Chapter 1: Awakening in a Dying Dream
POV: Kael Vorn (Kyle Ford)
The last thing Kyle Ford registered was the irony. He'd been rushing home to catch the Clone Wars finale—again—when the delivery truck ran the red light. Metal screamed against metal. Glass exploded inward. His final coherent thought, as the grille filled his windshield, was a bitter laugh. Figures. I'll never know how it ends.
Then came the falling.
Not downward, but through—through space that wasn't space, through colors that had no names, through a kaleidoscope of stars that sang in frequencies his dying brain couldn't process. The sensation stretched for an eternity and an instant, until—
Kael Vorn gasped awake.
Wrong. Everything was wrong. The air tasted metallic, recycled through industrial filters. Gray walls pressed close around him, scarred with the wear of countless tenants. This wasn't his bedroom. This wasn't his body. His hands—pale, calloused from work he'd never done—shook as he pressed them against his temples.
Kael Vorn. The name echoed in his skull like an unwelcome guest. Twenty-six years old. Systems technician. Lives alone in CoCo Town, Sublevel 3127. The memories were there, fragmentary and borrowed, like inheriting someone else's photo album.
Kyle Ford had died in that crash. He was certain of it. Which meant this was either the strangest afterlife imaginable, or—
A translucent interface materialized in his vision, characters scrolling across his field of view like a HUD display.
[FORCE CODEX SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[BIOMETRIC SCAN COMPLETE]
[WELCOME, GRAY INITIATE]
Kyle—no, Kael now—stared at the floating text. His engineering mind kicked into overdrive, cataloging impossibilities. Interactive holographic displays didn't exist. Neither did resurrection. Neither did Star Wars being real, but the view through his grimy window told a different story.
Coruscant stretched beyond the transparisteel in all its impossible glory. Traffic lanes carved through the air in orderly streams. The Jedi Temple's spires pierced the clouds in the distance, exactly as he'd seen in countless episodes. The holonet news stream flickered on the opposite wall, and Kael's blood turned to ice.
"—casualty reports from the Battle of Geonosis continue to mount. The Grand Army of the Republic has suffered significant losses, but Supreme Chancellor Palpatine assures the Senate that victory over the Separatists is within reach—"
Geonosis. The war had begun. Which meant Order 66 was less than three years away. Kael lurched to his feet, panic flooding his system. He knew what was coming. The betrayal. The purge. Anakin's fall. He could prevent it all, save billions of lives, if he could just warn someone—
"The Chancellor is Palpatine! He's Darth Sidious!"
The words that came out of his mouth made him stagger backward in horror.
"Purple monkey dishwasher battalion!"
Kael clapped his hands over his mouth, but the damage was done. He'd tried to speak about future events—about his meta-knowledge of this universe—and gibberish had emerged instead. Frantically, he grabbed a stylus and datapad from the rickety desk, scrawling Palpatine = Sidious across the screen.
The words transformed as he wrote them, becoming Banana = Refrigerator in his own handwriting.
[TIMELINE INTEGRITY PROTECTION ACTIVE]
[META-KNOWLEDGE COMMUNICATION BLOCKED]
[ADAPTATION PROTOCOL ENGAGED]
The System's messages hung in his vision like a death sentence. He could act on his knowledge—had to act on it—but he could never directly share what he knew. The cosmic joke was complete. He'd been given the power to save a galaxy and the curse that made it nearly impossible.
"Think, Kyle. Think like an engineer. Find the workarounds."
He could guide events indirectly. Plant suggestions. Manipulate circumstances. But first, he needed to survive long enough to matter. The System interface flickered, displaying what looked like a character sheet.
[FORCE ABILITIES DETECTED]
[FORCE SENSE: INITIATE RANK]
[TELEKINESIS: LOCKED - REQUIRES ACTIVATION]
[FORCE JUMP: LOCKED - REQUIRES ACTIVATION]
[CURRENT ALIGNMENT: 50% - TRUE GRAY]
[AURA STATUS: VISIBLE TO FORCE-SENSITIVES]
Kael stared at the readout. Force powers. He had actual Force powers. The implications hit him like a second truck—if he could use the Force, the Jedi would sense him. They'd want to know who he was, where he'd come from, why he'd never been trained. Questions he couldn't answer without sounding insane.
Frustration boiled over. This was impossible. Unfair. He'd been handed the greatest responsibility in galactic history and hobbled at every turn. Kael slammed his fist down on the apartment's dingy table.
The entire surface erupted upward.
The table flipped three meters into the air before crashing down, sending his few possessions scattering across the floor. Silver-gray energy crackled around his fingers like living mercury, and for a moment, Kael forgot to breathe. The power sang in his veins, alien and intoxicating.
[TELEKINESIS ACTIVATED]
[FORCE PUSH: 1/1000 USES TO APPRENTICE RANK]
[WARNING: AURA MANIFESTATION DETECTED]
[JEDI DETECTION PROBABILITY: 34%]
Through the window, the Jedi Temple's spires gleamed in the afternoon sun. Somewhere in those halls, Masters who could sense disturbances in the Force from kilometers away went about their duties. Kael's untrained burst of power would register like a flare in their perception.
He pressed his back against the wall, watching the silver glow fade from his hands. The System's warnings scrolled past his vision, but he barely registered them. The holonet continued its litany of war news—clone casualties, Separatist victories, Republic responses. Every report was another step toward the galaxy's darkest hour.
"I can't warn them directly. Can't tell them what's coming. But I can be ready when it does."
The Force Codex pulsed in his awareness, alien and patient. Eight abilities flickered in its database—basic techniques that any Padawan might know. Telekinesis. Enhanced senses. Improved reflexes. Small powers, but enough to start building something larger.
Kael moved to the window, staring out at the impossible city. Billions of beings went about their lives, unaware that their savior had just been born in a garbage-level apartment with borrowed memories and a head full of forbidden knowledge.
The Clone Wars had begun. The Republic's fall was inevitable.
Unless one dead software engineer could figure out how to debug the galaxy's code before it crashed permanently.
He had work to do.
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