Credit to Simon Coles on Artstation for the Y- and X-Wings. Other ship images from Wookiepedia or starwars.com.
Article the original comes from is here. First jokester which got obliterated by the B-Wing fans is here.
Sadly I do not have a source for this one.
The month of bittersweet revelry had passed all too quickly. From the awe inspiring airshows over Alxina Secundus to Ord Mantell's intimate cantinas you had done your best to keep a spirit high, to put on the face of a hero for the crowds and a comforting friend to your coworkers. And yet, with every day that ticked down, the knot in your stomach only tightened. First it was the sleep which went. Then came the pacing. Finally, unable to contain yourself you began to spend your nights poring over datapads and old books, searching with increased desperation for some way out, some formula or theory which would offer a way out. And yet there was none. What you had been told was true. To save this galaxy your fleet, your family, your Vanguard would need to be scattered.
And so here you were, arrayed with hundreds of other ships huge and small above the swirling swampy world of Dagobah. Before you all hung that black and purple disc which seemed to consume all light, inviting-no, demanding you enter into its unknowable depths. For a brief, horrifying moment, as had happened so many times before, the thought flashes through your mind that you have been set up. The math proving Vanguard must end has been made absolutely clear, but the nature of this portal has been entirely kept from you. Nothing you have seen guarantees safety out the other end. Are you about to become one of thousands sacrificed to oblivion so that the galaxy may live?
But the moment passes, as it always does. You can't afford to linger on such thoughts. You've sailed into certain death alongside these friends so many times. What's one more?
Only, the thought nags, this time you are going alone.
That knot starts to tighten all the more just as that message you've been dreading comes down the line. A voice you have become intimately familiar with gives its final speech, some poetic words you barely hear, and then orders the fleet forward. Some surge into the black maw with enthusiasm. Others hang back reluctantly. You wish to be the latter, and yet soon find your ship swept along with the tide. The portal looms greater and greater like an approaching predator, swallowing one vessel after another to leave not a trace of the friends you once knew. As it approaches you don't even register your digits hewing their permanent deformations into the armrest, nor do you have it in you to even utter a final goodbye as you brace yourself for the familiar jolt of hyperspace. All you can do is tighten your fingers more as the portal utterly fills your vision, your ship's prow sinking into it to propel you towards-
Nothing.
There is no jump. Instead the portal is gone. Dagobah and its thick clouds continue spinning exactly as they were. The stars, so many of which you have now visited, hang there with their same promise. You wonder briefly, with a smidge of hope, if the portal failed. But then you notice what else is missing.
You are alone.
That realization falls like an axe. You are finally back, returned to your own timeline. And yet you don't actually feel home.
Then you see it. In front of you, on a small panel (was that there last week?), a low light blinks. It's clearly no communication. It's not an alert. And yet it is coming from inside the ship. Too physically and emotionally spent now for caution, you press it.
Before you a tiny hologram of your old friend, the Vanguard overseer, looks bent and weathered. They look exactly as they did when telling you that the fleet must be scattered. And yet here there is clearly some joy in the look.
"Hello, Admiral. If you're receiving this it means you all made it back to your times. Thanks to you this galaxy has been saved, and you deserve every day of retirement if that is what you desire. My only regret is that you could not take your rest here. The prospect of being without you all fills me with agony, which is why, though you may never return to this galaxy, I could not allow you to go completely empty handed."
The hologram shifts with what you might mistake for sheepishness, something which might be a first. "I know some of you were suspicious as to why we held an entire month of celebration before sending the Vanguard on its way. And as you can see, at least a portion of that was because we needed to perform some . . . unsanctioned retrofits on your starships. This console you see is to interface with a new sort of hyperdrive we have developed from research into the spacetime anomalies. We call them ultradrives. I would attempt to bore you with the details, but in truth it is all simple enough. Please do experiment."
Realizing then that they have come to the end, the person which guided you in building, naming, and commanding the Galactic Vanguard finally pauses, considering. But they pull themselves up to full height, eyes staring up to yours. "While these drives can do many things, we haven't found any way for you to return here. Goodbye, my friend. And may the Force be with you, always."
As the hologram flickers away you are faced again with the void and its blackness. And yet your eyes are drawn to that panel. You flick a switch, only to hear static. You turn a knob and that static becomes voices . . . voices you know! It's Byss and some of the Furies in frantic, excited conversation. Another switch and you find yourself facing a screen swimming with names, each for a different Vanguard member. You work your way through the list, unsure what even to make of the swimming characters, before punching as if by random at the Dominion.
Immediately, without ceremony, you are plunged into darkness. Flinching upwards you see through the windscreen that massive Death Star-sized Lucrehulk blotting out the very stars themselves. It is only through some truly unsafe maneuvers and whole lot of expletives that you avoid becoming a negligible black stain across her surface.
But as you wrestle back control of your craft and swing around Dominion's massive equatorial ring, the sight all around leaves you a new sort of speechless. Through your improved communications you can listen to the chatter or Vanguard members across all time and space. As you look starships blink in and out between timelines, a twinkle of purple light the only sign that they were even coming or going.
Your family may never be able to share one timeline for long. But when it matters, across all realities, you will be there for one another. Long live the Galactic Vanguard.
Afterword:
Thank you once again to everyone who has contributed and continues to contribute to the Galactic Vanguard project. If you made it this far, congratulations on finding the secret unlisted part six! I don't anticipate doing any more of these myself, as I do feel the Vanguard has grown well beyond my own personal abilities to create scenarios for. And so my parting gift is to offer a true multiverse of possibilities, allowing anyone who has a story or prompt to throw our heroes and antiheroes into any scenario across the Star Wars or other universes. And even if nothing comes of it, I like to imagine the cozy ending of our characters popping into one another's timelines whenever they please for a little chat and maybe some tea. It's what they've earned.
Despite being over a year old now I'm still blown away by the passion people have had for this little project I started. It's become one of if not my single favourite piece of creative writing, and directly inspired me to copy it in other settings.
Truly, from the bottom of my heart, you have my gratitude. May the Force be with you all.
From top to bottom and left to right I believe these are:
Barbie and Spiderman still work, and trying to find out what these are online has been incredibly nostalgic. Unfortunately they just take up so much space that I imagine I'll have to toss them.
Over the pandemic my family were trying to keep ourselves sane, and that involved a whole lot of Star Wars. After watching Darran Robinson's guide video on YouTube a few of us were inspired to take a crack at our own hardware store hilts, and these were the results.
In descending order you have my father, who came up with a very weighty hilt finished with black spray paint to emulate carbon buildup. Then my brother, who felt content keeping his more handy and pristine. And finally there's my attempt, which never made it to fruition.
I confess feeling a bit backed into a corner with my choices here. I'd intended to go with a less common colour scheme. But using chrome and copper ended up limiting my parts choices. Pieces didn't fit together snugly which led to each component shifting even when tightened down, and eventually my whole motivation just sort of died.
Seeing all the incredible builds here has inspired me to perhaps give this another go. I hope to be back with the result some day.