h e y o
I would like to say first off thanks for clicking on this story, but also to give it some time. lemme explain, the first few chapters of this story were made years ago on another platform, and i only came back to it recently to continue forwards, meaning that even with the edits and refurbishes I've made to the first few chapters they may still seem objectively bad by some, but i promise you it gets better, and that i edit them when i can to fix any errors. also any and all criticism is welcome, Thanks for choosing Rise of the Rust, and Enjoy!!!
:)
PROLOUGE ---------------------------------
Jake stepped out onto the red sand, his small shack barely visible behind him. The place was a patchwork of mud, scrap metal, and anything else he'd scrounged up and deemed "structurally sound." At sixteen, he had never cared much for aesthetics; it was just a home. His shirt and pants, both torn and sun-faded, clung to his frame, and the dust of Geonosis seemed permanently embedded in the cloth.
Jake had been scavenging for as long as he could remember. Day after day, he combed the barren landscape for remnants of the Galactic War, twisted metal, broken weapons, burned-out droid husks. Anything of value went back to town, where he could sell it for enough credits to scrape by. Despite the endless work and the brutal sun, his skin stayed pale. His body was lean, almost underfed, yet wiry muscle spoke of years of labor. His brown eyes had a restless shine, and his dark hair, which was coated in sand most of the time, had taken on a reddish tint.
R4, his astromech companion, waited nearby. Its three photoreceptors shone and scanned the horizon with practiced vigilance. The droid's once-bright shell of red and gray had long since dulled, battered by sandstorms and time. Yet, despite the chips and scars, R4 was steadfast and loyal in a way no one else in Jake's life had ever been.
Life on Geonosis had never been Jake's choice. He didn't remember how he got here, nor who his parents were. R4's memory banks had been scrambled years ago thanks to its own clumsy accidents, so there were no answers there, either. It was just the two of them, making out a living on the outskirts of a canyon town. The settlement was a strange mix of humans, Trandoshans, and of course, the Geonosians, who had carved it into existence long ago.
The Geonosians bore the brunt of the aftermath more than anyone. Once a proud species, now they kept mostly to themselves, shadows of what they'd been before the Separatist defeat. Jake's scavenging provided decent credits, but it didn't win him many friends. People muttered that he was reckless, maybe suicidal, for digging through the battlefields where the Republic and Separatists had clashed. He brought back valuable gear, yes, but to the townsfolk, it was dangerous "Separatist junk." Jake never cared much for their opinions; socializing wasn't his strong suit anyway, plus, the same people who said that would still happily buy said "junk".
. . .
The Empire.
Jake had seen enough Holonet broadcasts of clones and their newer replacements, gunning down protestors on distant worlds. The thought of them ever colonizing Geonosis left him cold. He wasn't a fighter. He'd defend R4 with everything he had, sure, but he knew he'd be shaking the whole time.
His feelings toward the Republic's old army of clones were….odd. They'd stormed Geonosian hives, slaughtered civilians, and even tried to confiscate his scrap in the name of "the Republic." The Geonosians in town still spoke bitterly of those days, and Jake's own hatred had only deepened with their stories. Still, he didn't see clones as lesser beings, just as victims, in a way. Soldiers born in labs, ordered to fight wars they never chose. The droids were the same really. When Jake scavenged, stepping over their rusted bodies, he sometimes caught himself pitying them. None of them had asked for this.
Droid or Clone.
He shook himself from the thought and stretched. "Ready for another scrap run, R4? We need credits for food and, y'know, the usual crap."
"Beeep boo booo!" R4 chirped, the sound cheerful.
Jake chuckled. "Yeah, I know how much you love scrapping." He slung on his makeshift backpack, fashioned out of a battle droid's signal booster backpack, then revved his speeder bike. R4 tried to roll up, only to tip over and fall face-first into the sand with a thud. Jake groaned, hopped off, and helped the droid upright, brushing sand from its dome.
The speeder engine sputtered to life as it shot the two forwards, R4s frame being held by chains Jake stole from some guy's backyard about a year ago.
In the distance, the silhouette of a ruined transport cast a massive shadow over the battlefield. Within minutes, Jake and R4 arrived, parking the speeder on the edge of the war zone. The sight still stopped him in his tracks, no matter how many times he came here.
The ground was littered with corpses of war. Battle droids sprawled at broken angles, their plating blackened by laser fire. Clone troopers lay scattered among them, armor riddled with holes. The acrid scent of burned metal and dust lingered, carried on the wind like a ghost of the war itself. Jake swallowed hard and stepped forward. Standing still in such a place always gave him chills, like one of the clone skeletons would somehow jump at him. .
His boot struck something solid. He glanced down, a B2 Super Battle Droid, half-destroyed, its torso charred and its head lying meters away, clearly ripped out by hand.
Jake grimaced. "Jeez. Did the clones all have anger issues or something?"
R4 beeped back, the tone teasing.
Jake smirked. "Yeah, yeah, war's hell. Still, this guy didn't start it. Poor bastard was just following orders" he motioned to the dead droid…
The irony hit him even as he said it, and he added quietly, "Guess the same goes for the clones." R4 beeped in agreement.
Hours passed as they scavenged. Jake stripped wiring from tanks, yanked parts from droid carcasses, and pocketed whatever looked salvageable. Clone gear, though tempting, was harder to stomach. He hated them, sure, but a valuable part was still valuable.
Finally, he slumped onto the hull of a ruined AT-TE, the dry wind tugging at his hair. The battlefield stretched out before him, both haunting and strangely beautiful. The sun bathed the red canyons in gold, as if pretending none of this had happened.
"Life must've been different back then," he muttered, half to himself. R4 gave a questioning whistle.
"I mean during the Clone Wars. I don't know much, just what I've seen on the Holonet and what the bugs say, but sometimes I think… maybe things would've been better if the Separatists had won seeing what the Empire is doing." He sighed. "Not that I'm any kind of politician."
Pushing the thought aside, he stood and brushed himself off. His pack bulged with scrap, heavy but worth the effort. R4 rolled up beside him as they trudged back toward the speeder.
For now, the path ahead seemed certain. Unbeknowst to the underknowledged boy, certainty was a lie.
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HELLO, so allow me to explain. i never had a plan on what this story would be, and only got one around chapter 5 or 6, plus, these first few chapters were made by a much younger me, so they aren't the best. i've planned on going back and rewriting the,, such as this Chapter which i rewrote, but i've been so focused on finishing the newest chapter, along with my vacation that i've just been pushing it aside. so just bare with me here, and just hold out till the chapters get good. I will rewrite them. I promise you that. however please actually do read the quote on quote "shitty" chapters, because they are very important plot wise.
if you decide to stay then THANK YOU SO MUCH, and happyy reaadinggg!!