My name is Chester and I am the son of a former Republic Clone Trooper. I know what you are thinking, “Clone Troopers don’t have kids.” Yeah, that’s the general rule, but as with most things, there are exceptions. Now how about I drop the real bomb? I am Force Sensitive to boot. As if the first wasn’t hard enough to believe, the second surely can’t be true can it? Well, whether you choose to believe it or not, I assure you it is true. Rest assured I will explain it all to you and the strange culmination of events may give you some faith in what I am saying. If not, so be it. Without further ado I take you to the proverbial beginning.
My father was grown, not born. His life was one that was to be predetermined. Not by some mystical being, but by Kaminoans at the behest of a Sith Lord for a goodly amount of coin. He had no choice in life as most of us do. His purpose was simple. Be a soldier, follow orders to the letter and be prepared to sacrifice everything to win the day. It turns out, that even amongst large numbers of exact replicas of him, my father, Cody, stood out from his peers. He had a talent for leadership, strategy and an uncanny will to live. In basic training he advanced more quickly than his brethren and earned accolades as a leader. By the time he stepped foot on the dusty soil of Geonosis, he had been promoted to squad leader. Under the direction of the Jedi Generals, my father’s squad earned glory on the battlefield, crushing the Separatist droids under his boot heel.
As the Clone Wars drew to a close, my father had been promoted to the level of Commander working as the right-hand of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. They were a formidable force. General Kenobi had an uncanny ability to survive even the most overwhelming odds and my father could strategize a battle plan that would inevitably lead to the fall of the Republic’s enemies. Together they claimed many victories against seemingly insurmountable odds. He was even there when General Grievous was killed by General Kenobi as they mounted what would prove to be the last and most significant battle of the Clone Wars. It was also there on Utupau that my father’s lone failure would destroy him as Commander Cody and make him the man he is today.
It was Order 66 that sealed his fate. He knew it was there, always looming in his mind that he could, at any moment, be ordered to slay General Kenobi. He had pondered the moment for a long time knowing how difficult it would be to kill the venerable Jedi Master. Aside from the fact that Jedi are notoriously hard to kill because of their command of The Force and their training, General Kenobi had a penchant for making it out of scenarios that no other could. His plan was to let the Jedi Master get far enough ahead of the unit to be able to use the large laser cannons to finish him off. Surely no lightsaber was going to block a laser that powerful. What seemed to be a flawless plan turned out to be one that was ill-fated. When Order 66 arrived, he enacted his plan and it appeared to work. When his men couldn’t find a body though, he feared that he had failed, and he was correct. It was that mistake that defined the rest of his life.
Despite the fact that he failed to kill the Jedi Master, one would think there wouldn’t be much in the way of repercussions. I mean General Kenobi and his partner took on an entire Separatist Capital ship. He killed General Grievous single handedly. He defeated the feared Darth Maul when he was just a Padawan. He diced up Darth Vader like a roast Bantha at holiday dinner after having survived a near miss from a piece of small artillery. The guy, as I have already noted, was nigh impossible to kill. Unfortunately for my father, his failing to kill General Kenobi made it possible for Kenobi to track down Darth Vader and turn him into the iron-lunged black knight he is today. Rumor has it Vader’s charred stump of a body was found next to a river of lava on Mustafar shrieking “I’ll bite your legs off.” But, because Darth Vader was Emperor Palpatine’s pet project, my dad became the whipping boy for the whole debacle and was sent to the insidious Imperial Prison on Dathomir. It was on that planet that I was conceived.
I mentioned that my father had an uncanny will to live; well that same will was put to the test on Dathomir. It’s not a planet frequented by travelers. The fact of the matter is, it’s far too dangerous a planet for ordinary folk and actually has a tendency to claim the lives of hardened veteran soldiers and hunters. Famed for its Rancor population and clans of man hating Force wielding witches, it’s not a place for the faint of heart. To add to it, the prison there isn’t exactly under close scrutiny, so the prisoners are treated more harshly than a normal prisoner of the Empire.
As my father tells it; he was on the verge of death when he was saved. One of the clans of Dathomirian Witches, the Nightsisters apparently had a run in with some Imperial Scouts and many of their male slaves were killed in the ensuing battle. Their Queen, Axkva Min, a brazen woman by any standards, decided that they needed to replenish their ranks of slaves so she organized an assault on the Imperial Prison. She and a veritable army of Nightsisters and their tamed Rancors attacked the prison and kidnapped most of the prisoners. As slaves the prisoners were not any good in an emaciated and physically broken state, so they were nursed back to health. The slaves that showed the best physical and mental strength and fortitude were given special treatment and were tasked for “clan procreation.” In other words they were the concubines of the upper echelon of the Nightsister clan. My father was chosen by Axkva Min herself. Needless to say, she would bear his fruit, and that fruit would be me.
Bear in mind that the Nightsisters are all women only using men for slavery and their carnal pleasures. The fact that I was a boy was quite displeasing to my mother (I use the term loosely). It was so disappointing in fact that my father was relegated to one of the lesser clan sisters and I was slated to be sacrificed to the Sarlacc (not to dissimilar from the one on Tatooine). Fortunately it was not to happen that way. My father managed to slip past the guards one night and get me out. He had apparently seen an Imperial shuttle fly overhead towards the prison. In a desperate act, he escaped with me, stole the shuttle and fled into the core worlds. We eventually made it to a small, swampy moon of Naboo called Rori and settled in there. The events have taken their toll though. The once great Commander Cody is now quite possibly the most famous drunk in the city of Narmle and possibly the whole of Rori. I am not sure when he crawled into his bottle of Corellian Whisky as I was far too young to remember. What I do know is that life has been interesting to this point and I can’t imagine what the future holds. Rest assured it won’t be easy for the Force Sensitive bastard son of a fugitive clone trooper and Nightsister Queen, especially under the rule of the Galactic Empire.
There you have it. That’s the beginning. The explanation of how a former Republic Clone Trooper had a Force Sensitive son. It seems that the Force has something in store for my father and I, or at the very least, me. What possible reason could there be for such a strange series of events other than some predetermined destiny? Whatever it is, I intend to keep a record of it.
