Thread: Man of Steel's Tales

I thought I'd post a short story or two that I've previously written here, and let you guys and gals help me improve my writing. Constructive criticism is appreciated greatly. I write as a hobby, mostly short stories, mostly Star Wars based.

This one is a bit weak in the latter part, I feel. I had intended to rewrite it, as the 'job' felt both out of character and a bit lame, but I've never gotten around to it. It's Star Wars based, but I don't think it will be too difficult for a non-Star Wars fan to relate to. The first half doesn't use a great deal of SW terminology, and what little is there is easy to figure out. Without further ado:

Corellian Odds

I was just stepping out of the doorway of my favorite tapcaf when she ran right into me, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Looking down at her datapad, she hadn't noticed me, and I was preoccupied thinking about the essay I had yet to write on the Bothawui Conflict. My espresso, in it's plastifoam cup, spilled all over both of us, soaking the white shirt of my academy uniform and her blue blouse as she bounced off of my chest, looking up at my face then down at the mess the dark caf had made on our respective clothing. “I-I'm so sorry-I wasn't paying attention, I am so sorry,” she stammered, the startled yet apologetic expression on her beautiful face, surrounded by straight dark hair bringing an amused smile to my own face. “Don't worry about it. I wasn't paying attention where I was going either.” The girl looked sheepishly down at my now nearly empty plastifoam mug, then spoke again. “Let me buy you another cup of caf? Please?” I couldn't very well refuse such an offer from such an attractive girl as her. “Well... sure. Okay.” So much for that essay. “Great! Come on, then.” I followed her back into the tapcaf, her hips swaying with each step under the knee-length light blue skirt she wore, her dark hair swinging against her shoulders.


“What were you drinking?” she asked, reaching the counter. “Ah, an Unguay espresso, no foam,” I replied, peeling my wayward eyes away from her hips. She placed the order, and as we waited for the drinks to be prepared, extended a hand. “I'm Tyri.” “Eoin. Nice to meet you,” I said, taking her hand. “I really am sorry for that. I'll pay for your shirt, too.” “No, no. It was partly my fault, too. If I'd been paying attention, I could have stepped out of your way.” “Well, if you're sure...” The droid behind the counter handed us our caf drinks, and Tyri nodded toward a booth near the door. “Would you like to sit with me for a minute?” “Sure.” I slid into the seat opposite her as she sat, placing her datapad on the table. Tyri blew into her cup, cooling the hot caf with her breath, then took a careful sip. “Mmm, that's good. They have the best caf here,” she said, swallowing the hot liquid. Amazed at my good fortune in meeting such an attractive girl, as my luck usually went the other ay altogether, I just nodded, smiling. “So, I notice by your uniform you go to Guntell Academy? I'm transferring there from Hinyu,” she announced.


“Yeah, it's a pretty good school. Hinyu? Isn't that in Kor Vella?” She's going to be going to Guntell. Wow. This gorgeous girl is going to be in the same classes as me... I thought to myself as I spoke. Kor Vella was the capital of my home planet of Corellia, a large, mainly tourist-oriented city. Here in Junei, a much smaller city in the shadow of the mountain ranges, we hardly ever saw any off-worlders. “Yeah. My parents got me into Hinyu, then my dad lost a lot of money gambling, and they had to transfer me because money was getting tight.” I wondered briefly why she would tell me, a complete stranger, this. “Wow. That sucks. Hope everything works out.” Tyri smiled, just that small smile nearly halting my bodily functions with it's sheer beauty. “Oh, don't worry. He does it every year or so. Kind of a tradition, usually just enough to really make my mom mad. He just overdid it this time, is all.” She shook her head, her hair falling over into her eyes, a laugh coming from her near perfect mouth. “My dad's a mess,” she said fondly, brushing the hair from her eyes with a well manicured hand.


For some reason I felt at ease with her, something I hadn't felt around a girl in years, since my sister died. I grinned widely. “Sounds like it. I think I'd like your dad.” Tyri laughed, a sparkle in her eyes. I could tell she really loved her father. “Do you have anything planned for tonight?” When the most charmingly beautiful girl you've ever seen, much less had the extreme pleasure of meeting, asks you if you're busy that night, it doesn't matter if you had a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor himself. You're suddenly not busy at all. “Not that I know of. What did you have in mind?” “A friend told me about this great Coruscanti restaurant in Thoro Square. Want to go try it out with me?” Again, the answer was a given. “That sounds great. Want me to pick you up?” She smiled again, the sight melting my heart like warm nerf butter. “Sure. Around 1900 hours? I'm in Dorm Dorn Besh Kresh.” I replied, glancing at my wrist chrono, “Okay, 1900 it is.” It was 1426 now, so that would give me better than two and a half standard hours to get ready. Maybe I could even get started on that essay. Tyri stood, as did I, and said, “Well, I'd better be going. I still need to finish unpacking. See you at 1900!” “See you then.” With that, she was gone, whisking out of the tapcaf toward the school campus. I couldn't believe it. I had a date with the most beautiful girl on Corellia.

* * * * * *

Of course, as with most things in my life, it didn't work out. By the time I got there, a friend had invited her to go to a different restaurant, and not thinking, she had been talked into it. So I was left sitting in my late-model speeder, dejectedly listening to the local radio broadcasts. That had been eighteen years ago, long before I got where I am today. I sighed, straightening up in my seat, shaking off the daydream. That was one of the more vivid memories of my younger years, just another reason I had eventually become what I had. A thief. Not just any thief, though. I only stole from the rich, preferably only Imperials or those who supported the Empire. I gave what I could to those who needed it, making the occasional donation to the Rebellion, but mainly giving to those whose lives the Empire had disrupted. I was good at what I did. A master of disguises, expert slicer and superb actor, I could bluff, slice, or con my way through anything to get the goods. Despite the large amounts of credits I often possessed, I lived modestly. I owned an upper level apartment on Coruscant, which is where I did most of my work, and another apartment back on Corellia. Neither were furnished richly, just well enough to be comfortable when I was there, which I often wasn't.


Such as today. Though I hated taking public transport on Coruscant, it was at times a necessary evil. Glancing out of the viewport beside me, I saw that the shuttle was approaching my stop. Standing, I made my way to the front of the vehicle, reaching the doors just as the transport came to a stop. Stepping through the doors down onto the worn duracrete of the busy street, I looked around, surveying the crowds. All manner of sentients could be seen in the streets, each hurrying to their respective destinations. So many people, most with jobs they likely considered important. I began to walk, heading toward Kulu Square. There were a group of buildings facing Kulu Square, including a museum and a bank. My destination was the museum. A large plaque out front proclaimed Coruscant War Museum and Memorial in bold lettering.

They had a certain artifact from the Clone Wars that I needed. Apparently there had been a top-ranking general on the side of the CIS in the Clone Wars, by the name of Grievous, and he had the habit of collecting his Jedi victims' lightsabers. He had carried on his person four of these trophies, and when he had died at the hands of a Jedi, one had been recovered and the others reproduced. It was that one functioning lightsaber on display here that I was after. I had a collector willing to pay top credit. I paused briefly at the steps leading up to the museum's entrance at this level, adjusting the collar of the uniform I wore. I had decided upon a less direct approach for this job. I had a uniform made that matched that of the security inspector, who was due to run a routine check on the museum security later today. I had all the appropriate identification and papers, and had planned it down to the minute.

Checking my chrono, I saw that I was running a good five minutes early. Perfect. I walked briskly up the steps and through the automatic doors, striding confidently, with just a hint of a limp in my left leg. I headed straight to the main security desk, nodding to the guard at the entrance, who looked at the nameplate on my chest with apprehension. Reaching the security desk, I spoke to the senior guard on duty, “Security Inspector Held Spalden. I was due to arrive later this afternoon.” The man rose from his seat quickly, dropping a flimsiplast news bulletin onto the floor in his haste. “Inspector! We weren't expecting you for several hours. What brings you so early, sir?” This was going to be too easy... “Surprise is an important element in a proper inspection, as I'm sure you well know, Mr. ...” I made a show of looking for his nameplate, which I had already noticed was missing from his uniform shirt. “Er, Julf, sir. Trew Julf.” “I see. I'll need your passcards, Mr. Julf,” I said expectantly.

Always be expectant, I'd learned. If you expect to be obeyed, you stand a much better chance of being obeyed. Trew Julf fumbled at his belt, unclipping his small ring of passcards and handing them to me wordlessly. I took them and indicated for him to follow me, as protocol called for. This was the tricky part. The shift change was in exactly fourteen minutes, and I had to be out by then, because the senior guard that would go on duty then knew the Security Inspector by sight. So I started directly for the floor that the model of General Grievous and his equipment was displayed on.

To be continued at a later date, if I don't completely rewrite it first . . .

* * * * *

Let me know what you think, all opinions welcome, especially prais-- Er, constructive criticism. I know it's not all that great, but I write what my fingers type, if that makes any sense, and go back and edit it later. Most of my writing comes off the top of my head, with no real thought behind it, just . . . daydreams, really. Anyhow, please do comment. More on the way pending comments on this one.