Skywalker's Snip Stockpile

[Sheo Darren]

That's a really obscure story. I thought it drew inspiration from The Force Unleashed, but with an Anakin clone instead of Starkiller. Now Obi-Wan has two apprentices who are a pain in the neck, and Luke and Leia have double the father issues hahaha

 

[deathzealotzero]

Snort. Funny that you posted this right after I watched this video about Force Using Clones. Still an interesting idea and I hope you keep it up.

 

[Phht]

Oh wow. Galaxy of Fear. It's been a long time since I thought about that series. I think I still have a number of them in my SW "Legends" collection from when I was a kid. ... Yep, out of the 12 books, I'm only missing 8 and 10 somehow. And the cloning result for a Force sensitive clone in that book seems based on how the issue showed up in the Thrawn trilogy (Joruus C'baoth and Luuke).

While it would've been hilarious if he had ended up at the age he was for Ep 3 (imagine him meeting Obi-Wan while looking 20 years younger and having all his limbs), the cloning facility, etc wouldn't have known that DV was Anakin and thus could not know of other time frames to potentially stop the maturation.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Prototype Eurobote Thing​

The Abyssals. Demons. Sirens. Different names for the same beings. Monsters risen from the depths, seemingly to take revenge upon humanity. Or so the assumption went. No one truly knew what their motivation was, nor where they had come from. They had simply come into being, one terrible morning. All across the world, in every single ocean or sea, the Abyssals rose.

Seemingly as one collective being, they had delivered death and destruction unto mankind. Vessels, large and small, were sent to a watery grave. Military, civilian, it made no difference. They died the same. Without warning, without mercy, without honor.

Yet, with an unsated bloodlust, the monsters from the deep moved on. Ports and coastal cities burned. Pearl Harbor was subjected to a new attack. Taranto, Yokosuka, Cape Town, St. Petersburg. And many more besides. Tens, maybe even hundreds of thousands, died in those first few days. It was an unprecedented catastrophe. All the more so, for the fact all of humanity suffered. It mattered not where you were from or what you had done.

Everywhere and everything suffered.

This is not to say that mankind failed to fight back. Navies, Air Forces, even Armies. They all fought back with unmatched determination and ferocity. It was a united effort, in mission if not in action. It was not enough. Abyssals proved to have tricks that made modern weaponry less effective than it should have been. Some considered it magic, others some strange electronic jamming. From sudden storms, to missiles losing tracking, to strangely effective enemy aircraft. It all made the conflict far more difficult.

It should be little surprise that most navies endured horrendous losses, even as they bled the Abyssals back.

Into this situation, the first Ship Spirits arose. Young women, one and all, who stood tall and proud as they sailed to face the Abyssals. Japan was the first. Soon followed by the United States and Great Britain. These spirits, known to the Japanese as 'Kanmusu', fought alongside the battered navies of their homelands. They proved resistant to Abyssal tricks, and far more capable of fighting the monsters on even footing.

It took very little time for other nations to begin bringing their own old warships back. Few truly understood what they were doing. Even the Spirits, themselves, had no true idea how they had returned. Yet, from Greece and Turkey, to Sweden or Canada, these smaller navies did what they must. The Spirits were, after all, the best defense against the monsters that besieged the seas.

Yet, in central Europe, one nation took longer than most. A nation that had done its utmost to forget its past and the demons lurking in its history. Until, in the end, there was no other choice.

For even Germany had a coastline that needed protection.

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​

​

It was quiet.

That remained the most striking thing, months after the demons of the depths had arisen. What had once been a bustling port, filled with ship traffic and the sounds of laborers working, was quiet. Looking out a window at the empty docks and burnt out hulks, an old man sighed deeply. He could still pick out shell craters and bomb impacts. There was a shattered frigate, listing at the harbor entrance. And a freighter, run aground against a dock to save her crew. While not visible, he knew that a submarine lay broken on the harbor floor as well.

Kiel was no longer what it once was. Many of the citizens had moved inland, while the navy dispersed its remaining forces as much as possible. Leaving a silent and ruined port as a reminder of what had been lost.

Perhaps life will return, if this plan works. With a heavy sigh, the old man turned away. His eyes left the broken city, and turned instead to the man sitting in his office.

That was a younger man, dressed in a dark suit. His unremarkable face, beneath an unremarkable haircut, marked him as nothing more than a random political stooge. One sent to observe for the government, and make their concerns clear. Politics. No self-respecting military man cared for it, even as they acknowledged its importance. The old man, looking at his visitor, was no different.

He adjusted his Admiral's uniform, as if to drive the point home. His tired eyes bored into the politician, as he opened his mouth to say, "So, the government has finally agreed to make the attempt? I would have thought the devastation of our coastline would have made this move faster."

"..." For his part, the politician looked anywhere but the Admiral's face. He clearly had no real say in things, and didn't want to stick his neck out as a result. Instead, he simply sighed softly and replied with, "Yes. Berlin has decided to try. With the latest attack on Hamburg, it's become apparent that relying on the British and Swedish is no longer tenable. We must protect our own shores."

"A classically political answer, I see." The Admiral snorted, as he rubbed his chin. The younger man flushed, while his older counterpart walked over to his desk. "Ignoring, for the moment, that my comrades and I have been saying this for months...you do realize what this means, yes?"

"Yes." The politician agreed, with a short nod. "Admiral Patzig, you're the foremost expert we have on...this situation. If anyone knows what to do, it would be you."

That much was certainly true. Admiral Karl Patzig looked away from the civilian, and back to his window. He had been working with those spirits, British and Swedish alike. He'd even made the time to visit France and Italy, for as much good as that had done. So, yes, he knew more about the spirits than anyone else in his position. At least in Germany. He also knew that calling them back was no simple matter. It relied quite a lot on spiritual matters that varied between countries. Most common, though, was appealing to the patriotism and need to defend their homeland that all sailors shared.

Which, for better or worse, seemed to apply to the ships as well. Not much of an issue in America, Britain or France.

Yet a rather large issue in Germany. Patzig's eyes drifted over to a model of a Bayern-class battleship, resting on the windowsill. And that, of course, is the crux of the matter. No one wanted to be the one to suggest bringing back Nazi ships.

Or so the newspapers would certainly call it, if Bismarck- for example -was brought back.

"I would assume this has less to do with the damage to our ports, or to the reliance on our allies," Patzig didn't turn around, his voice dry as he spoke to the man behind him. The Admiral didn't need to see his face, as he continued with a dull tone, "And more to do with the fact Yavuz has seen recent successes in the Mediterranean."

And, indeed, the man behind him did look like he had swallowed a lemon. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, tugging at his red tie as the man went over the political answers in his head. Any number of trite arguments about how 'that wasn't actually true'. Or how 'that wasn't a consideration at all'.

Before, evidently, deciding for honesty. Because this really was over his head and the man had no real choice in the matter. "That...did ruffle feathers in Berlin, yes. Especially when someone pointed out that we could have had Goeben's hull as a museum right now, had that not been turned down."

Snorting softly, Patzig turned away and walked back to his desk. And the phone sitting atop it, for that matter. "Politicians, one and the same." As he picked up the phone, he sent one more flat look at his guest, "I'll make the calls, now. I had prepared something for this very event, and now is the time to use it."

And so, as he made the call, Patzig smirked internally. He was no fan of either the Nazis nor the Imperials. But it would be quite nice to not have to rely on other countries to defend his homeland.

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"Admiral...is that what I think it is?"

As they stood over the silent docks, Patzig turned a smug smirk over at the civilian. His expression could be likened to a shark staring down a particularly tasty fish, as he nodded his head. "Yes, it is. The museum was all too willing to lend it out when I asked. You see, I'm friends with the curator and several of the staff are interested in actually talking with a piece of history."

Perhaps an understatement. When the Ship Spirits weren't being used on the front, they were fielding unending questions from historians large and small. They were living pieces of history with perfect memories of their service histories. What historian wouldn't salivate at that? Especially with ships that had mysterious sinkings or otherwise were full of questions in their lives?

Some of the more tech savvy ones had even ended up on the internet, when things were working properly there.

That entirely aside, though, Patzig saw the politician sweating in his place. The man's eyes darting between the Admiral, with his graying hair, and the object sitting beside the pier. Patzig returned the look, dull green eyes staring out beneath an upraised eyebrow.

Until, with a heavy sigh, the younger man waved at the object, "Yes, but does it have to be...that piece of history?" Biting his lip and shaking his head, the man threw his hands up in defeat. "Of all the ships you could call back, you chose this one? I struggle to think of a more controversial pick, outside perhaps Bismarck or the other Nazi battleships."

That's an overreaction, if there ever was one. Outside Germany, this ship's name is more known for that silly airship. Even inside Germany, it would certainly not raise the same eyebrows as the Bismarcks or Scharnhorsts. And the ship, herself, certainly did nothing to warrant this reaction.

Not to say Patzig couldn't understand the concern, as he walked over to the object. A small bronze bell, sitting beside the pier. This bell had been returned to Germany during the Cold War, after sitting in some British archive for decades. Just one of many bells from the sunken High Seas Fleet, though perhaps one with an unfortunate name attached to it. Regardless, that bell was the center of the 'summoning ceremony'. It rested on a table, surrounded by an honor guard. Men carrying museum-piece Mauser rifles. And donning reproductions of Kaiserliche Marine uniforms.

"Appealing to the sense of patriotism, indeed." Patzig muttered under his breath, before spinning on his heel to look at the politician one last time. "This is your final chance to back out of this. Will Berlin accept this ship, this woman, back home? If not, we will have to find someone else. And I can assure you, name aside, you will not find a less controversial choice."

After all, any other options would have served in the war. Fought in the war. That could be...problematic with our allies, for the moment.

Silence. The only noise was the quiet breathing of the honor guard and the equally silent lapping of waves at the pier. Until, with a defeated shake of his head, the politician backed down. "No...no, you're correct. This ship never fought against our allies and has no connections to the Third Reich, name excepted. I'll...figure out what to tell my superiors."

With that tacit approval, Patzig turned back to the bell. And to the other man standing beside it. This was the leader of the little group, wearing the uniform of a Kapitän zur See of the Kaiserliche Marine. An authentic one in fact; borrowed from a museum, much like the dull bronze bell. That little extra touch would hopefully make the spirit attached to the bell...more receptive to their actions. Or so the hope went.

No matter the nation, the first summoning- other than Japan, where they had appeared on their own -was always an iffy one. A test to see what would truly work and what needed to be changed. The Italians had needed a couple tries to get Roma, for example.

But, those thoughts were a distraction.

"Herr Admiral, are you ready?" The Captain's voice was harsh like the grinding of gears in a turbine. This was a man who had served in the Navy his entire life, and it was abundantly clear that he had taken that to heart. He sounded less like a captain, and more a grumbly old sailor working the decks. Perfect.

"Yes. Start the summoning, and we shall see if anyone is listening." Patzig was not a particularly spiritual man. He found better things to do with his time than question everything in the world through a spiritual lens.

But even he felt a slight stirring in his heart, as a band kept carefully out of sight began to string up the old anthem of the Imperial German Navy. The rolling bass echoed over the calm waters of the harbor. The waters around the pier almost seemed to vibrate with the music, shifting and swirling in tune with the beats. Each drumbeat drew forth a wave. Each string picked up the wind. And each trumpet call brought out the cries of birds, previously silent as the dead dockside.

As the triumphant tones rang out, the honor guard around the bell snapped to full attention. Rifles held tight and faces all turned out to the harbor.

Leaving the Captain in his Kaiserliche Marine uniform to pull down the dark grey cap atop his hair. He sucked in a deep breath, thrust his chest out, and yelled. The voice of a sailor, calling out for all to hear.

"Attention!"

Following that single word, came orders. Orders to come to service and fight for Germany. Orders spoken with old Prussian diction and harshness, in a way that any Imperial German sailor would recognize. And, ideally, answer.

The Call to Arms.

A desperate plea to return.

One that would not go unanswered.

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A voice. A voice calling her to arms. A voice crying out for her to return.

A homecoming she would never have thought possible, after the cold Scottish waters had flooded her hull. After the last of her crew had departed, leaving her to rust silently in place. She had dimly felt the salvage and scrapping, before darkness had fully overtaken her. Never once had she contemplated returning home.

Should she answer the call, though? Germany had surely changed and those like her were no longer necessary. The War, a war to end all others, had ended. Germany had lost. The Kaiser had fled and his government had ended. There was nothing left of the proud nation she had served. The Navy she had wanted so dearly to fight alongside, had fought its last battle.

A great sacrifice to keep their ships from enemy hands. In the finest Pru...the finest German tradition. Honor, pride and duty dictated nothing less. No surrender. No aid to their enemies. No giving up on their pride.

That was all she had known.

Honor.

Duty.

Pride.

And the legacy of a name that carried so much weight on her shoulders. A name that had put so much pressure upon her.

She had hardly lived up to that name. Her guns had never seen the enemy. Her comrades and sisters had fought, yet she had not. She wasn't worthy of her name, of the man who had nearly saved Germany.

That was what she had always believed. Even as she sank beneath the cold waves of Scapa Flow, alone and silent.

Yet…

She was being asked to return. She was being called back by German hands.

Germany wanted her, despite everything. They yearned for her to return and serve again. To fight like she had been denied in the War.

She did not deserve her name.

But she was going to do her best to honor it and the call to arms.

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Deep brown eyes, shining like freshly made brandy, slowly opened for the first time in...however long she had been gone. Years? Decades? She didn't know the answer. At least, not yet.

Regardless, the sight that greeted them was both familiar and unfamiliar to their owner. The harbor of Kiel, distressingly empty of military and civilian traffic alike. Burnt out hulks of unfamiliar ships littering the area. Destroyed buildings laying beside the piers. And, in the distance, massive metal and glass buildings that she could hardly believe existed. All of that was a shock to her system the likes of which she had never felt.

And then there was the group of men standing upon the pier, looking at her with stoic faces. That was more familiar. They carried typical Mauser rifles and were, to the man, dressed in perfectly pressed naval uniforms. It was a relief to see, compared to the unfamiliar sights around her. And none of them evoked that feeling more than the aging man with gray hair, standing beside what she recognized as her bell.

An Admiral staring at her with a serious expression on his face. Yet, with a hint of a relived smile beneath it all. That smile was matched by...a feeling in the air. One that had her brown eyes misting over and her pale face flushing. Awe. These men were in awe of her, even though she had done nothing to deserve that.

So, in the interests of not lingering on that thought...

"SMS Hindenburg, reporting as ordered sir!"

She snapped her heels together upon the surface of the water. There was a momentary shock at the fact she stood with legs upon the cool waves of Kiel's harbor. But the instincts of a German warship were hard to break. Long forgotten memories of her crew doing much the same ran through her mind, foggier than Heligoland in the winter. Yet, her shoulders straightened perfectly. Her arm rose up in a picture perfect Imperial salute. Her neatly pressed uniform stretched over her new torso, the thigh-length skirt upon her hips rustling with the movement.

Hindenburg found it all very, very strange. Bizarre, even. Nonetheless, she was a proud warship of the Kaiserliche Marine and the Hochseeflotte. A bit of unearned awe and strangeness would not change that.

"Welcome back, Hindenburg." The Admiral's voice was clear and crisp as it carried over the water like a cool breeze. His dark green eyes looked into Hindenburg's brown, as if searching for some great mystery. "It is good to know you were willing and able to return."

"Of course," Hindenburg allowed her hand to fall from its salute, as she...walked along the water towards the pier. So very strange… "You called me to arms, and no German warship will ever ignore that."

She couldn't have ignored it even if she had wanted to.

"I understand that." A wan smile, weary and small, crossed the man's face. His hand reached down- when had he gotten so close? -to pull her from the water. "And I am very glad you answered the call. You are The First, Hindenburg."

Brandy brown eyes blinked, a question forming upon Hindenburg's full lips as the Admiral pulled her from the water. "The First? What do you mean Admiral?"

The emphasis he put on that statement was clear, even to her. Capital letters in his voice. This wasn't a throwaway line or anything of the sort. It was something...serious. Something major. Something important. And, well, SMS Hindenburg had no idea what she was being compared to.

"That…" the grip on the battlecruiser's hand tightened, the creak of metal echoing over the dripping of water from her legs. The Admiral stared at her with the most serious expression in his eyes that Hindenburg had ever seen.

And she was from a time when German sailors were expected to show no real emotion in serious situations. Prussian discipline at its finest, even if most of the sailors she knew were distinctly not Prussian.

"...is a very long story, Hindenburg. Come with me and I can explain everything."

She should have been happy to know more. But, as Hindenburg looked at her new Admiral's expression, she felt a chill run down her spine. She didn't know where it had come from or why she felt like her keel had just been run through the waters of the North Sea. However…

What's happened? Why am I The First? The first what?

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"This is all so…"

Standing in her room, a though that still baffled and amazed her in equal measure, Hindenburg sighed. That deep breath held so many conflicting emotions that it was a miracle she wasn't a babbling mess on the floor. Deep inside her new, human form, she felt her boilers running hotter than they had since her sea trials. Her brown-eyed gaze looked into the mirror before her, staring at the pale face reflected back. A face that was even paler with the knowledge the Admiral had imparted upon her.

Biting back a second sigh, Hindenburg leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk before the mirror. The old wood, at least as old as she was- it's been a hundred years! -rough against her very human skin.

The memories of the video and pictures she had seen came back to her.

Abyssals. Sirens. Demons from the deep. All over the world, they've attacked and killed so many. They're the reason Kiel is...is...

Her hands clenched the desk in her new room so tightly she wondered if the wood may splinter. Certainly it creaked worse than her hull settling into Scapa Flow.

"What am I going to do?" Hindenburg let the desk go, before she ruined it. She fell back on her heels, bouncing in place with nervous energy. Grinning faces flashed before her mind. "Derfflinger…Lützow…"

Her sisters. Her brave, brave sisters. They were better suited to this than she was, the battlecruiser knew that. They had fought. She'd only missed every chance at her own battles. "If only you could see me now. What would you say?"

Eyes returning to the mirror, the young woman brought a hand up to brush her hair. Deep, dark red- almost shifting to brown -locks met her grip. Hindenburg knew, if only from her crew's memories, that most men would consider her beautiful. Her brilliant hair may have only reached her shoulders, and been a mess of untameable curls at that, but the face it framed? Classically Teutonic. High cheekbones, and a sharp chin, with a small nose over full lips. Perhaps the only fault was how young she looked. A woman barely out of her teens.

She was very young. So very young and inexperienced.

But...she was the only one Germany had and what was she...

"Hallå!"

"Eeep!" Hindenburg flinched away from the mirror, her hand falling to her chest- and by extension, her pounding heart.

That shout had come from nowhere. It wasn't German. It was...Swedish? Hindenburg spun around, holding her chest as she scanned for the source of the voice. Her lookouts had been so distracted by her raging thoughts, that they hadn't noticed anything. And, even now, she still saw nothing. No man or woman standing in her doorway. Her very open doorway, at that. When had that happened?

All her brown-eyed gaze noted were the red painted walls and the draped window, with the dull setting sun shining past it. She was, from all appearances, alone. Had she imagined the shout? Why would she imagine a shout in Swedish of all things?

And then, as if to ensure she wasn't losing her mind, the voice spoke up again.

"Down here, big girl! Swear to God, you Germans always forget we exist…" it continued, developing a bit of a frustrated tone. A voice that sounded much, much older than Hindenburg's own. "Ah, can't blame you. We aren't exactly imposing. Not like you are!"

The battlecruiser's eyes slowly trailed down from the open door of her room...and to a grinning blue-eyed blonde. A very short one, built like a tank. Or a particularly busty woman. One who wore a short dress that barely reached her very pale, and very bare, thighs.

Of course, Hindenburg also saw the distinctive tripod mast of…

"Sverige?"

Her voice was filled with honest confusion. Hindenburg had only seen the Swedish coastal defense ship a handful of times. She had been launched around the same time as herself, after all. And Hindenburg had such a short time in her first life that...there hadn't been many chances to run into the Swede. If Hindenburg had expected to see someone her own age, though, she'd be disappointed.

Because this Swede looked much older. Maybe not in her face, which retained a youthful exuberance. The eyes, on the other hand? Those reflected an age and maturity that put Hindenburg to shame.

"The one and only!" Sverige gave a little bow, her hands grabbing her short dress and flaring it out enough that Hindenburg's eyes flickered to the door...wondering if a passing sailor may have just gotten a bit more than he expected of the Swede. "Hindenburg, right? Ah...lesse...you had two more guns than the 'ole Iron Dog, if I remember that right."

Hindenburg shuffled slightly, "Yes. How did you know that?"

"...'done my reading. We've been covering for you all for so long that someone had to do it." The Swede waved her hand dismissively, walking around Hindenburg to flop down upon her couch.

And, for that matter, to stick her feet out and prop them upon the battlecruiser's coffee table.

"Nice to see one of you finally come back! Didn't think you'd be the first though." Her jovial and entirely lacking seriousness tone aside, Sverige's eyes were quite intent when they looked up into Hindenburg's brown. "Now, why did you come back first, Hindy?"

Hindy?

Mind spinning at the strange actions of the Swedish warship, Hindenburg sat down in the free armchair across from her. Brown eyes turned down on her pale hands that clenched in the loose fabric of her short skirt. Hindenburg didn't really know how to answer that question. At least…

"I want to live up to my name."

...not without telling her greatest fear and worry.

"Ah." Sverige just nodded sagely. Or, at least, what the strange Swede thought counted as such.

It was more of a short jerk of her head that set bouncy blonde locks shaking atop her head. Hindenburg was beginning to wonder if this strange woman had a serious bone in her body. Or, if she did, how well she was at hiding it.

"You know, always did wonder why the Germans named a ship after a man that was still alive. Guess he was a big deal, yeah?"

Hindenburg smiled softly as old memories rushed to the front of her mind, "He was. You can't really understand unless you were German but...Hindenburg was legendary. It was his efforts that pushed Russia away from the Fatherland and probably out of the war. And he almost won in the West too!"

Sure, that was also Ludendorff's efforts, but it was still Hindenburg who was the one that Germans looked up to. Or...at least had looked up to. One of the things her Admiral had told her shook the battlecruiser to the core. She was still coming to grips with it, considering how much she had valued her name. A name that...

"But...now, I don't know what to think." Hindenburg turned her eyes back on the coastal defense ship. A sheen of tears shone in the brown depths, that she made no effort to wipe away. "He's not respected anymore. The man I was named after gave the crown of our nation to a madman!"

Sverige's own smile finally fell away, the Swede sighing heavily. "That he did. Let me guess, Hindy. You want to redeem your name."

"I...yes." Hindenburg nodded, with a small frown on her lips. "I want that more than you could ever know. This name of mine was such an honor. It didn't matter that he was Army. Just like Mackensen, we had a legacy to uphold and so many expectations. And...I still want to do that. Despite everything I've learned since I came back."

With a nod, Sverige climbed to her feet and walked over to the much taller battlecruiser. "Well, let's get to it then!"

"What?" Hindenburg blinked slowly, even as Sverige flung her hand out and tried to tug her to her feet.

A futile effort really. Hindenburg was lean and lithe, not an inch of fat on her toned battlecruiser body. But she still displaced a good three-times as much as Sverige did, and that was without being fully loaded with fuel and ammunition. Hindenburg didn't need to use her own thrust against the Swede, who had about as much power as a destroyer. Still, the Swede tried.

"We're going to get you out in the field! And you'll show the Germans just what your name means!" Sverige panted, straining every last bit of her weak horsepower in an attempt to budge the heavier battlecruiser.

All Hindenburg could do was smile. Taking pity on the straining Swede, she jumped to her feet, nearly sending Sverige sprawling. The wide smile on her face kept her new...friend from complaining.

Yes. A friend. Hindenburg had needed one, and here came a strange Swede offering a hand in friendship. It was enough to make her grin widely, while planting her hands on her hips and nodding fiercely down on the short woman.

"We will! I'll do everything I can to show that the Hindenburg name is still honorable and proud!" The old fire that had sustained her in the dark days of the War had returned to Hindenburg. Sverige's words had done more good than the Swede may have realized.

That said…

"Just lead the way, Sverrrrriiiiggggg…!"

It did little to help the fact that Hindenburg was still inexperienced, as the sudden jump to her feet upset her balance.

And sent the battlecruiser falling face first atop the poor Swedish warship, the two landing with a resounding thud and a pile of flailing limbs. The crash of metal on metal probably woke up the entire base. It did absolutely nothing to stop Hindenburg from giggling madly, with Sverige right alongside her. The blush lighting a fire across her face didn't matter, not really. She had a friend and a goal. That was all that mattered.

---

If you've been in the fanbase long enough, you'll probably at least vaguely recognize this. Good 'ole BelBat. This would be largely based on one of the old Eurobote snips there. Trying to get the muse to cooperate leads to looking at older works, leads to remembering we had more plans for Hindy here. We really like the idea of her being the first back. The last Imperial German battlecruiser. One with a very loaded name, once you get past the 'haha, burning airship' memes. One that saw no real service, which means she's a largely blank slate to work with. And can also lead to comedic moments with her lack of experience leading to being a bit...clumsy.

Really, there's a lot of fun. Especially since it defies the trope of 'All Bismarck, All The Time' with German botes.

Were we to run with this, it'd be a largely European-focused thing. Both Baltic and Med. Which is very underrepresented in botegirl fiction, as much of that focuses (understandably so) on the Pacific. Both American and Japanese. We might also work in the Tiger-in-Australia bits, because that was fun too...plus, on the Euro front, we actually have a canonical Swede now in Gotland. This is so old, she wasn't a thing at the time

Anyway, this was a lot of old material. But also modernized and brought up to more current standards, while cutting out the BB references. Standalone and all of that. Hopefully good. And hopefully we didn't miss any old parts in there that were meant to be cut out >.>

Also still getting used to the larger screen with the desktop, so there may be weird formatting. It's a lot wider than the old laptop.

As for Hindy's design:

Spoiler: bote

Spoiler: bote again

 

[Wolf of the Sea]

And sent the battlecruiser falling face first atop the poor Swedish warship, the two landing with a resounding thud and a pile of flailing limbs.

Click to shrink...

Sverige: Wheezing Hindy, you're crushing my bunkers!

Which could result in even more comedy.

Still, I like the idea that inexperienced ships, tend to be clumsy.

 

[Cooldude101011]

Prototype Eurobote Thing​

Click to shrink...

It is nice to see the high seas fleet. Such as in Changing Destiny or Indestructible Spirit.

I do understand the worry about the Kriegsmarine ships, would they have more loyalty to Germany and its people, or to the Nazi party?

And indeed, historians are having a field day. Finding out what happened to Surcouf, how exactly did Hood sink, etc

Y'know, I'd actually be really interested in a snippet (or a few) that covered these types of topics. Shipgirls meeting any still living former crewman (maybe even meeting their fairy counterparts?), tons of historical questions, etc

He also knew that calling them back was no simple matter. It relied quite a lot on spiritual matters that varied between countries. Most common, though, was appealing to the patriotism and need to defend their homeland that all sailors shared.

Which, for better or worse, seemed to apply to the ships as well. Not much of an issue in America, Britain or France.

Yet a rather large issue in Germany.

Click to shrink...

Ah, Germany. I find it very sad and disheartening that Germany has always (since WW2) had this self-hating attitude towards their own history. Simple things like love for your homeland, patriotism, nationalism and such should not be an issue, at least when in moderation. Examples of such things at healthy moderate levels would be the modern day US, France or say the UK during WW2.

Instead of facing its past and accepting that it happened, Germany is afraid of its own past, moving to be as far away from the Nazis as possible. Even shunning or distancing itself from things that are even remotely connected to the Nazis, even if they aren't Nazi in origin. They seem to feel guilty for the sins of their fathers, or by this point, grandfathers.

Summoning the Imperial German ships may work for awhile, but if/when the Abyssals grow stronger, Germany will be forced to face their demons.

Anyway, enough about Germany.
Are you still writing Changing Destiny? If not and it's abandoned or something, could you at least post a basic outline of how the story would've gone? So that it's not just left as a cliffhanger?

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 4: Enter Nanami​

Ah, right, I had almost forgotten about this. I kind of wish I had forgotten about it.

Kurosaki Ayumi wore a fond, if strained, smile as she walked into the living room of her childhood home. On the television, a certain 'lovable idiot' was doing his trademark laugh. And, because her family was more silly than she'd like to admit, her father and baby sister were doing the same.

She still wasn't sure how much Isshin was playing that up for the sake of the joke. The man damn well knew better, although without his powers he might not actually know what Kanonji was up to. She could easily imagine him slipping into Captain Shiba Mode if he did. Her father was an idiot, but he was still a Shinigami, in the end.

For the moment, though...

"BWAHAHAHA!" Kurosaki Isshin and Kurosaki Yuzu cried out, with identical silly grins, as they watched the tv.

Ayumi rolled her eyes fondly, as she raised a lazy hand to fistbump Karin. "So, about as obsessed as ever?"

"When are they ever not obsessed with the newest trend?" The dry delivery was classic Karin, as the 'mini Ayumi' rolled her own eyes. "By the way, Ayumi-nee, do you know where Rukia dragged Ichigo off to?"

"Nooooo...?" Ayumi wasn't lying, as she grabbed some leftover rice. Although, I can make a pretty good guess. Probably a Hollow.

Karin looked at her, suspiciously, before shrugging. "Ah, whatever. I should probably get my homework done."

"Need any help?" That question was expected, since Ayumi had always made sure her siblings were good on their school work.

For her part, Karin gave a bemused frown. "Honestly, Ayumi-nee, I can do my own work now. I don't need you holding my hand anymore."

Proving that she was her father's daughter, no matter how she might deny inheriting the silliness, Ayumi held a hand to her heart. She even put on a fake pout, which only served to make Karin heartily roll her eyes.

"I guess you don't need my help anymore." Ayumi held the pout for a few seconds...before letting it fade into a proud smile. She reached over and ruffled Karin's hair, ignoring her sister swatting at her hand. "Really, though, I'm always here if you need my help. You can even call me at school if you need to."

For all that she rolled her eyes, Karin let a small smile cross her lips. "I know that." The eleven year old hopped to her feet, and gave Ayumi a quick hug. "I'll get that done now. Let me know when short stuff brings Ichigo back, yeah?"

Ayumi snorted, "Not sure you have any room to talk there, Karin."

"I'm eleven. She's ancient. I think I'm allowed to joke about her being my size." Karin was certainly smirking now, as she left for her room to get away from the guffawing television.

It was never going to stop being weird, was it? Her sisters knowing everything, that is. Intellectually, she knew they were fully aware about Hollows and Shinigami. Not about their father, obviously, but just about everything else.

On the one hand, she wasn't complaining about one less lie.

On the other hand, Ayumi couldn't help but sigh as she sat down in the vacant seat. Her sisters were better prepared, now, but they were also far too young to be worrying about something like this. She vastly preferred watching Yuzu geek out over Kanonji, to imagining them facing down a Hollow. Well, at least they knew when to run.

Besides! She had better things to do, like teasing Ichigo and Rukia.

"We're back!" And speak of the devil, there was Ichigo right now.

As he walked into the living area, Ayumi's brother looked...tired. Tired but pleased, as he caught her eye. Warm brown met vivid crimson, while Ichigo raised a hand in a wave. Beside him, Rukia looked perfectly fine. If a bit guilty, probably at her inability to fight.

At least she won't lose all her powers. Ayumi had convinced Urahara that his plan would never work, so Rukia was only in a gigai that kept her from regaining her powers. It wasn't actively draining her.

She dearly wished that they could put a fake Hogyoku inside her, instead of the real one. Really mess with Aizen's plans.

Alas, the clever bastard would never fall for that. Ayumi wasn't really sure how he figured out the Wish Orb was in Rukia to begin with. Expecting him to fall for a fake one, without knowing how he figured that out in the first place?

Yeah. As risky as this all was, it was still the best plan they had. In any case...

"Guess you moved back in, Ayumi?" Ichigo sent her a small smile, as he wearily plopped into his usual chair.

Ayumi passed him some food with a nod, "Yup! What, did you think I was going to stay in a hotel while I'm home?"

"Not really." Her brother shrugged, before digging into his food with the energy of a starving man.

Ah, the appetite of a teenage boy. Ayumi was glad she hadn't had to worry about that. Nah, she just got the fun of living through puberty twice. She wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy.

"Anyway," the dark-haired woman turned her gaze on Rukia, who was watching Ichigo with a fondly bemused expression. "Guessing you were hunting Hollows?"

Rukia flinched, a little, clearly still getting used to Ayumi's red-eyed gaze. "Yes. I...can't handle them on my own, so I guide Ichigo to where my Denreishinki picks up Hollows."

Ichigo nodded along, stopping his inhalation of dinner for a moment, "I swear, we never get a break, either. Hollows keep showing up as fast as we can kill them." He sent a steady look at his sister, a little scowl alighting upon his lips. "Why aren't you out there, nee-san? You can fight Hollows better than I can."

Ayumi shrugged and gave her brother a small smile. She actually appreciated him fighting down his overprotective instincts to let her do her thing.

"True enough. But, now that Rukia's here, Karakura has a specifically assigned Shinigami." Ayumi waved in Rukia's direction, the Shinigami in question blushing a little "If I go out and hunt every Hollow I sense, don't you think Soul Society miiiiight start asking questions?"

Ichigo's scowl deepened, and he turned to look at Rukia. Who sighed softly, and shook her head before saying, "Your sister is correct, Ichigo. When we receive a Hollow alert and dispatch the target, I have to report to Soul Society so they're aware of what happened. If Hollows start appearing and vanishing without any report..."

"...they'll want to know what's going on." Ichigo finished, leaning back in his chair with an annoyed look. "How come that wasn't an issue before Rukia showed up?"

It was a fair question. Ayumi couldn't blame her brother for asking it, either. That said, explaining the internal politics of the Soul Society would take way longer than she had. And it wasn't really relevant right now anyway.

So, instead, she simply said, "Hollows showing up and vanishing isn't anything new. When Rukia wasn't here, they probably just assumed anything I killed just left after a hunt."

Rukia nodded along, "Most likely. I confess that I'm nowhere near a high enough rank to have records like that, but it makes sense." She sent a sharp look at Ayumi, proving that- unnerved or not -she was still a military officer of a sort. "While we're on the topic, however, I have a question. When you kill a Hollow, is it purified, Ayumi?"

I guess she doesn't want to be on 'full name basis' and calling me 'Kurosaki' would probably be weird with Ichigo right there. Ayumi smiled at Rukia using her first name, before sobering up. A serious frown taking shape, as she nodded at the petite Shinigami. "I had Urahara check that before I ever hunted a Hollow. My sword isn't a Zanpakuto, but it does purify like one."

And wasn't she thankful for that, indeed.

Urahara wasn't even sure how it worked, but it did. If it hadn't, Ayumi would never, ever have killed Grand Fisher like she had. If her powers destroyed souls like a Quincy, or absorbed them like a Hollow, she wouldn't have finished the job like that. It would have meant killing her Mother, in a true and final sense.

No reincarnation, no Soul Society, just an end to her existence.

Might be whatever I inherited from Dad mixing with my own powers. It's the best guess I have, right now.

Rukia's mouth was a thin line, yet she nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. You haven't given me the impression you're as hard-headedly reckless as your brother."

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo snapped, food forgotten as he just about hopped up to slam his head into Rukia's.

Ayumi put a hand on his shoulder, which stopped that, as her red-eyed gaze shifted to the living room. Isshin returned her look, a hint of seriousness in his eyes, before he grinned his goofy grin and let out another hearty 'bwahahaha'.

Yuzu had never turned away from the TV in the first place, fully engrossed in the silly idiot on the screen.

"...by which I mean that you don't seem the type to not be careful with your powers, Ayumi." Rukia sent a dry look at Ichigo.

He simply scowled and sat back down, grumbling, 'I'm not that bad, damnit' under his breath.

"I appreciate your confidence in me, although you haven't seen me spar with Urahara yet." Ayumi smiled at Rukia, glad that the Kuchiki girl trusted her.

Ichigo, meanwhile, shifted from a scowl to a frown, "Which reminds me, nee-san, when are you going to show me that? I still don't buy that Hat'n'Clogs is that good."

At that question, both Ayumi and Rukia shared a look. Ayumi for obvious reasons, and Rukia because she had picked up on Urahara being more than he let on. Ayumi still doubted Rukia knew who he was, though, simply because that was before her time.

In any case, it did bring up something Ayumi had forgotten. "You know, on the topic of Urahara, I have a couple things to talk to him about." She climbed to her feet, and gamely ignored the scowl on Ichigo's face. "Relax, my dear little brother. I'll be back soon."

"Who said I wasn't relaxed?" Ichigo grumbled.

Rukia actually smirked, as she countered with, "The scowl on your face did."

The two launched into one of their legendary, to Ayumi, bickering fits. All the while, the other Kurosaki family members went about their night. It was a normal night for this family, in a lot of ways.

Ayumi sometimes wondered how she had ever lived without it.

---

When she stood beside Urahara, looking down on her Summoned Sword an hour later, the eldest Kurosaki child frowned.

"I don't get it. I'm certain I had it, when I fought Grand Fisher. But nothing's changed since then!" She didn't pout, not at all, but she did frown. She couldn't help it, as the blue broadsword stubbornly remained just that.

A ghostly blue broadsword.

Not the elegant silver katana that she knew her powers could summon. That she had used to finish off Grand Fisher, when her anger and rage had slipped her ironclad control. She hid it well, but her temper could be every bit as bad as Ichigo's. Worse, even, when she really let her dark side out.

It scares me, sometimes. Ayumi reflected, before shaking her head. Exactly how much influence her Demon side held was a question for later.

"I'll admit I still don't fully understand your powers," Urahara held his hand out, allowing Ayumi to place the sword in his hand.

It was much more fitting to his size, now, than it had been when she was a child. Urahara still looked wrong, somehow, holding the Demonic blade. He could wield it as well, or better, than Ayumi. Yet it still seemed off, likely because he was a Shinigami, not a Demon.

"However," the man continued, swinging the blade experimentally. His lips pursed, as his gray eyes clinically examined her blade. "It might be something similar to Shikai. Not in the sense that your powers are sealed, inside this sword, but in the sense that you have to unlock your true abilities."

That prompted Ayumi to give her best imitation of her brother's scowl, "Damn. I wouldn't have the first idea how to do that, either."

She really hoped it didn't involve being stabbed repeatedly. That was how Dante unlocked his Devil Trigger and that was a barrel of worms she didn't want to touch. Both the stabbing part and the transformation as well.

"Neither do I, but that's the fun in it!" Urahara practically chirped, and Ayumi stared at him with a flat expression. "What? Did I say something?"

"The implication of experiments was there." Ayumi's response was dry, though her lips pricked into a small smile at the corners when Urahara held a hand over his heart.

The man could pull off a pout better than her baby sisters. And that was one of the great mysteries of Urahara Kisuke.

The pout faded quickly, however, as Urahara handed her the Summoned Sword, "Regardless, the best thing I can suggest is continued training. Clearly you have the power, and that curious blade, but you need to unlock it." A serious look overtook his face, while he continued with, "Anger seems to be a powerful trigger, but I wouldn't recommend pursuing that route. Anger in battle only leads to mistakes."

The serious look even reached his eyes. That was enough to make Ayumi return it, because Urahara rarely let himself look that serious. Any time he wore that look, it was time to sit up, shut up, and listen. Because this was Captain Urahara, the smartest man in Soul Society. Arguably the most dangerous, as well, even if he didn't have the raw power of Yamamoto or the broken abilities of Aizen.

Then again, his Bankai might well be the most dangerous one out there.

"I understand that you can heal from nearly any wound you could conceivably receive. That's no excuse for making mistakes like that, especially when we still don't know the exact limits of your powers." The scientists word were spoken with complete conviction.

Ayumi nodded, with a small little sigh thrown in for good measure. Yeah, that tracked. "Don't worry, Urahara. I'm not about to do something that stupid."

"Of course not. From what you've told me, your brother is the hard-headed one." And the smile was back, the serious moment ended, with Ayumi resisting the urge to flick the scientist.

Situation normal.

"Well, I guess I'll just get back to training then." Ayumi dispelled the sword and shrugged at her...friend. Yeah. They were friends, she supposed.

They had stopped being 'acquaintances' or 'partners' or 'colleagues' a long time ago. She was fully aware that Urahara probably saw her as a particularly precocious niece, too.

"You aren't interested in training right now?" Urahara almost looked disappointed, when he said that.

Which also tracked, because the man was more like his Zanpakuto than he let on. Benihime was, if nothing else, a blade that thrived in blood and combat. And the ex-Captain quite liked testing himself against Ayumi's powers. Both from a scientific desire to understand them...

...and simply because she gave him an outlet for his combat desires. While helping him 'knock the rust off' as much as someone her level could.

"No offense, Urahara, but I did promise Ichigo I'd head back home soon." Ayumi enjoyed the spars too, but she didn't really feel like being stabbed today. "Besides, I think he wants to see us spar in person. He doesn't believe you're as good as I said you are."

A dangerous glint appeared in Urahara's eyes. Ayumi pitied her brother, when the time came for the ex-Captain to take over his training. Ichigo was not going to have a fun time, even if it was necessary to prepare him for the future. As Ayumi constantly told herself, every time she thought about her brother's future pain.

"I suppose we will have to educate your brother, when the time comes. I look forward to that." Urahara's dangerous glint remained, over a shark-toothed grin.

Oh, Ichigo, you have no idea what you've just awoken. No idea at all. Then again, Ayumi had pointed Ichigo at Urahara anyway. When she mentioned the whole 'stabbed in the gut' thing.

Soooooo, well, she was probably to blame a bit as well.

"Don't beat him up too badly, Urahara." Ayumi gave the scientist a stink-eye, raising an eyebrow at his grin. "Remember, if you stab him, it actually sticks."

"Details. Do you think I don't know how to train someone without high-speed regeneration?" Urahara let the grin fade, replaced by deep chuckles.

Ayumi rolled her eyes, "I know that you can. My point remains."

"Noted, my dear student." With a bow and a wave, Urahara gestured out of his shop. "Run along, then. Give my regards to your brother. And do be sure to keep him working on his Zanpakuto. I want to see how that develops."

You and me both, Urahara. You and me both.

"I'll make sure he does. Yoruichi having any luck on yoinking an Asauchi?" Ayumi brushed her skirt down, and got ready to leave.

Urahara simply shrugged, in response to her question, "As yet, no. I'm not sure how they were treated in your world, but those swords are tightly regulated. They all come from the Zero Division and are tracked very, very carefully."

Well, Ayumi couldn't say she was surprised. If there was only one source of those blades, it stood to reason that they would be monitored closely. Especially if the Zero Division got twitchy when something went missing. Wacky Afro Man seemed the type to be displeased if one of his babies was lost without good reason.

Oh well. She knew that Ichigo could manage, just fine, with a fake blade generated by his latent Quincy abilities. It still would have been better if they could get him a real sword, sooner rather than later.

"I'll be sure to inform you when she does find one, Ayumi." Urahara walked up to her, joining Ayumi as she left the shop.

They both stepped out into the cool night air, looking up to the sky. There wasn't anything to see, aside from the moon and stars. It was a quiet night, and there was no odd feeling in the air. The night was...peaceful. Nice.

Ayumi turned to Urahara, and gave him a small smile. It even reached her red eyes, too. "Well, I'll see you later. Should I expect the kids to 'drag' you to that idiot's show?"

The ex-Captain stared at her, innocently pulling out his fan. He fanned himself with it, doing very little to hide his grin, "Am I not allowed to enjoy a good performance, Ayumi?"

"You and I both know what that man is actually doing." Ayumi rolled her eyes at him, giving in to the urge to flick his head.

Of course, since this was Urahara and she was nowhere near his level, the man simply leaned back. And her flick missed entirely.

Naturally.

"All joking aside," Urahara laughed at her expense, keeping his fan over his face. "We will be there, yes. The kids do enjoy his show, much as Jinta would deny it. And I'm curious to see how your brother will handle the situation."

Ayumi didn't bother asking if Urahara expected her to handle it. Ichigo needed experience. And, for better or worse, this was good practice. It wasn't a particularly dangerous Hollow, it let him get some combat training in, and would ultimately not hurt anyone.

She was protective towards her brother. Overprotective, even.

But, sometimes, Ayumi knew she had to step back and let Ichigo breathe. Let him fight his own battles.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." She muttered under her breath. Urahara, damn him, sent her a pitying look. She ignored it. "Right, I'm off then. Say hi to the kids and Tessai for me, okay?"

Urahara snapped his fan shut and gave her a jaunty wave, "Will do!"

Waving back over her shoulder, Ayumi left the shop behind and set off for home. She was looking forward to a nice shower, and sleeping in her own bed for once. There really was nothing like coming back home, after months at university.

Even with her brother and father constantly butting heads.

---

The Next Morning​

---

"GOOOOOOOOD MOOOOORNING ICHIGAH-"

Ayumi opened her eyes, red orbs unfocused and bleary. The young woman sat up in her bed, her black hair rolling over her shoulders. She tiredly brought a hand up to brush that bed hair aside, lingering for only a moment on the white streak over her eye.

Her head slowly swiveled, past her bedroom door, towards the window. The window her father was currently clinging to, like his life depended on it. He had a nasty welt on his head, though Ayumi knew it would vanish in short order. Always did.

"What kind of father attacks his son after a late night!" Ichigo's bellow came from the next room over. Nothing new there either.

If anything, as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and threw her blankets off, Ayumi was more impressed at her father for grabbing her window. Ichigo probably threw him out of his room, after all.

"Dad, you really need to pick better times to ambush Ichigo." Ayumi got out, past a deep yawn, as she walked over to her window. Her nightdress shifted over her shoulders, when she pulled it open.

Her father had crocodile tears aplenty, as he fell into the room. And bear-hugged his eldest daughter, sobbing all the while, "My dear Ayumi! You love your father so much more than your cruel brother, you know that?"

"I heard that!" Ichigo shouted back, through two open windows.

"You were meant to, my harsh son!" Isshin shot back, the crocodile tears fading as soon as they came.

Ayumi just sleepily accepted the hug for the over-performance it was. She was very, very used to this. She'd even missed it, a little, if she were asked to admit it.

"As funny as this is, Dad, can you let me go? I kinda need to get dressed." Ayumi pried herself from her father's grip, giggling at his pouty face. "Come on, you're asking for it when you attack Ichigo like that."

"He needs to be ready for anything!" Isshin puffed his chest out, the image rather ruined by the t-shirt and sweats he wore. Certainly not fitting the image of an exiled Shinigami Captain.

Other than his face, anyway, which dipped into 'Captain Shiba' mode, as Ayumi called it. She was the only one he ever showed that to, since she was the only one in their family who knew his secret.

Or, rather, the fact he knew Urahara and about Hollows. He never had told her about his past, and she'd never asked. They had a bit of an understanding. Both knew they were keeping secrets from each other, and both silently agreed to share those secrets when they were ready. It was how their relationship worked.

"Yeah, yeah," Ayumi just waved a lazy hand, which prompted her father to drop the serious look. "Just be more careful with the Kurosaki Love Kick or whatever you're calling it now. I do need my beauty sleep."

Isshin instantly returned to his trademark goofy grin, at that, "You're beautiful no matter how you look, Ayumi." His grin widened, as she blushed the same shade as her eyes. "Now, that aside, when are you planning on bringing a good-"

Without missing a beat, Ayumi opened her door, pushed her father out, and shut it in his laughing face. "Not answering that question, Dad."

Embarrassing as he is, I did miss that. Ayumi mused, as she ran a hand through her unruly hair to bring it to some semblance of 'controlled'. "Right, what are you going to do today, Ayumi...?"

Ichigo and her sisters had school. Which meant Rukia would be 'going to school' as well. Her father would probably be working, and while she could go bug Urahara, she kind of wanted a break. This was the last time her life would be peaceful, for the foreseeable future, after all.

Hmmm. Ayumi opened her door, bundled dress in her arms, and set out for the bathroom.

Maybe a mall trip was in order. Might as well enjoy that while she could. It wasn't like the Soul Society had malls, and she was planning on spending a lot of time there in the future.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

After freshening up and saying her goodbyes to her family, Ayumi found herself at Karakura's largest mall. She hadn't been expecting much to change, in the relatively short time she was gone, but it was...almost disappointing in a way.

Nothing had really changed at all.

That was nice, she supposed. Too much change wasn't necessarily a good thing. It did, however, mean she had very little to do. Arguably her own fault, that. I don't have any friends I can call up to talk to. My own choice, yeah, but it does make things a bit boring.

Oh well, Ayumi could find things to do. Like sit at a table, eating food that would have Yuzu pouting at her over how unhealthy and greasy it was. If there was any advantage to her powers and intense training regimen, it was the fact she could eat whatever she wanted. Ayumi didn't have to watch her weight like most women her age did.

Too bad she didn't have anyone to show that off to.

"Ah well. I guess I can at least pick up some presents while I'm here." Ayumi's eyes shifted from her food, to the pile of packages next to her.

She wasn't exactly loaded or anything, but her father gave her a good allowance. Kisuke also paid her for 'working at the shop', although the man was an unrepentant cheapskate. She got more in allowance than in 'pay'. Still, between the two, she had enough.

Most of those packages were dresses for Rukia, so she didn't have to borrow Yuzu's clothing. As amusing as it was, that the tiny Shinigami could wear her eleven year old sister's clothes.

Hmm, I wonder what they're up to. Ayumi leaned back in her chair, idly sipping a soda. Her eyes moved to the ceiling of the mall, as if it could give her any answers. That idiot is tonight, I think. Which means Uryu will make his move soon. I can't think of anything else between now and then...

As if fate were conspiring against her, in that regard, Ayumi stiffened in her seat.

Her gaze snapped to the exit of the mall. The average people walking back and forth were the same. Not one of them showed a sign of noticing anything off. As if nothing had changed at all, and they were simply continuing on as ever.

She could sense what had changed.

A new power on the edge of her senses, making no effort to hide. A power that was probably a bit above Ichigo's current level. Not by a huge amount, but enough. A Third Seat? She wouldn't know.

What Ayumi did know, is that this meant Soul Society was showing an interest they shouldn't be. Was it because of that one guy?

And if she could sense the power, it was a given that everyone from Urahara, to Uryu to Rukia could. Probably not her hard-headed brother, but that didn't mean much. Other than the fact that Rukia won't tell him about it, and will probably go charging off on her own. I need to head this off at the pass.

Ayumi gathered up her presents, sending a regretful look at her half-finished meal. Before she shook her head and set out of the mall.

The moment she was in an alley next to it, the young woman vanished in a flash of purest blue.

---

Meanwhile​

---

Exiting the Senkaimon, Shimizu Nanami frowned lightly. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, and exhaled.

"The World of the Living." Her voice carried easily through the air, lost to the wind rushing past her long blonde hair. "It always does feel different..."

The very air felt distinctly off. To someone who had spent centuries in the Soul Society, the air would always seem different. The ambient reishi was nowhere near the same. There was barely any of that in the World of the Living.

Not to mention the sensation of being surrounded was gone. You couldn't take a step in the Seireitei without sensing power all around you. With thousands upon thousands of Shinigami roaming about, it wasn't really surprising.

In the World of the Living, that's gone. There's never more than one Shinigami per assigned area, barring some truly unusual circumstances. And spiritually aware humans are incredibly rare.

Nanami shook her head. Differences aside, she wasn't technically here on a sightseeing jaunt. Her Captain had joked about it being a break- and maybe it was, from the 3rd Seats -but she still had a job to do. As such, the woman reached into her uniform and pulled out the scroll. It felt heavy in her hands, as she unfurled it.

'Nanami,

I need you to do a favor. Find Rukia and ask her some questions. I have received a concerning report from the Stealth Force. The report claims that Rukia transferred her powers to a human boy. While I was told she did it to save the boy's family, this remains a serious accusation..."

The 4th Seat sucked in a deep breath, before a scowl overtook her features. "Giving her powers to a human boy. Kuchiki, you know exactly what that meant."

Nothing good, for sure. That was one of the few laws that even a Noble couldn't escape consequences for, which spoke to how seriously it was taken. Almost anything else, up to and including having an affair with a human, could be written off as 'noble privileges'. Not this.

"...if this should be true, I want to get ahead of the pass. Rukia does not deserve the ridicule and punishment that would entail. Especially if she acted in the interest of protecting a human family.

I would also like to know more about the boy, himself. He resembles Kaien to an uncomfortable extent, save for bright orange hair. That cannot be a coincidence. I would already insist on meeting him, after the...failure that was the first Substitute Shinigami. His resemblance to Kaien only reinforces that."

Everyone in the 13th Division still mourned Lieutenant Shiba's death. Nanami was no exception, as she remembered his easy smiles and happy joking. She had been a Sixth Seat when he died, but he had never hesitated to talk with her like she was his equal. Few other officers were so easy to interact with.

Fewer still were the Nobles who not only deigned to lower themselves to talking with the masses, but did it without hesitation. Shiba Kaien had felt less like nobility and more like 'one of us'.

So who is this boy who resembles him? Lieutenant Shiba died far too young, and far too long ago, to have a human child. And I sincerely doubt he reincarnated so quickly...and the coincidence of meeting Kuchiki in his new life? I can't believe it.

With a firm shake of her head, blonde hair swaying in the breeze, Nanami read the final part of the message.

"Furthermore, I would ask that you locate the boy's sister. The report claimed that she had spiritual powers of her own, unlike anything I have seen. Not Shinigami, not Quincy. There is something about her that I have never encountered, and I would like to know more.

I do not need to tell you how the Department of Research and Development would react. I want to meet this young woman before that should happen.

She has dark hair and red eyes. Unfortunately, beyond that, I do not know what she looks like.

Thank you, Nanami. And do be careful, for my sake."

Rolling the scroll back up, Nanmi placed it back in her uniform. Her face smoothed out, as she looked curiously down upon Karakura.

A Substitute Shinigami. A potentially rogue subordinate. And a human woman with powers that even her Captain, one of the oldest and most experienced alive, knew nothing about. This was not, even slightly, what she had expected that morning. It was also a sign of the trust Captain Ukitake had for her. He wouldn't have sent her, had he not trusted her.

It made Nanami happy, of course. It also made her realize the weight on her shoulders.

"I suppose I should begin looking for-" She began to speak, to herself, before stiffening in place.

Before she could so much as twitch, a blue sword was hovering before her. Pointing right between her eyes.

The woman's green gaze followed that sword, to see a dark-haired woman floating before her. In the woman's hand, a larger version of the same sword rested. Pointed down, for the moment, but in position where it could be brought up in a moment.

The more striking thing, somehow, was the angry red gaze staring at her. Unnatural red eyes, narrowed with clear hostility.

"Who are you?" The woman asked, standing upon a blue reishi platform of some form. Her voice echoed over the wind, as her black hair swept over her shoulders.

Other than a streak of pure white, resting above that red gaze.

Nanami was very careful to not reach for her blade, as she replied. Slowly and carefully. "Fourth Seat Shimizu Nanami of the 13th Division, of the Gotei 13."

Across from her, the woman blinked. Once. Twice.

And then her shoulders slumped, as she muttered something under her breath. The only thing Nanami caught was something about 'I've never heard of her before...'. She raised an eyebrow, in spite of the blade between her eyes.

A blade that remained in place, as the woman looked back up, "So! I guess Captain Ukitake sent you to check things out, then?"

"Yes." Nanami replied, continuing to remain still as a statue. "I was sent to locate Kuchiki Rukia, and the siblings she was seen with."

She sighed, ever so slightly, and smiled at the woman.

"It's safe to assume you're one of them, correct?"

The woman looked at Nanami, red eyes narrowed. And then, out of nowhere, the blade between the 4th Seat's eyes vanished. It was there one moment, and gone the next. The one in the woman's hand remained, though, as she brought her other hand up to brush her hair back. A sigh followed, as the woman let that hand fall.

Her gaze remained fixed on the 4th Seat, when she spoke once more. "Yeah. If Ukitake sent you, he already knows about me. I guess there's no harm in this..." She muttered something else under her breath, though this time Nanami couldn't hear it. "The name's Kurosaki Ayumi."

Kurosaki. Nanami filed that away for later. The name meant nothing to her, of course. The important part, for the moment, was that it wasn't Shiba. And her first name is Ayumi. I'll need to make note of that for the Captain.

Nanami was admirably calm, all things considered, as the woman with strange powers stood across from her. The sword remained, as did the curious reishi platform. Yet, she sensed no ill intent from Kurosaki Ayumi. Nor any moves to attack. Perhaps she was simply investigating a strange power.

Presuming that she could sense reiatsu in the same way a Shinigami could. All evidence did point that way, considering how quickly she had arrived.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki Ayumi." So, in the interest of maintaining the calm atmosphere, Nanami inclined her head. Nothing was lost by being polite, as her Captain would probably say. "Although, I'm afraid this isn't a casual visit. Would I be correct in assuming you know the location of Kuchiki Rukia?"

Kurosaki's eyes narrowed, but she made no move to re-summon that strange blade. "I do, but I'm not going to tell you. Not yet."

Nanami met her imposing crimson gaze, her green eyes searching for something. When she found it, the 4th Seat let out a soft sigh and cupped her chin. It was clear. Kurosaki cared for Kuchiki and was wary of any threats.

Understandable, perhaps. Even if the girl didn't know the extent of Kuchiki's crimes, she would be wary of a stranger wanting to find her.

Not that I'm a stranger to Kuchiki, really, but I understand the thought. Nanami chuckled a little, internally, before shaking her head. Her blonde hair shifted, as she held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I suppose that's fair. I am an unknown factor, after all."

Kurosaki sighed deeply, herself, and rolled her eyes. "From what I know of the Gotei, I doubt you're an unknown factor for Rukia." The young woman ran a hand through her hair, lingering for a moment on the curious white streak. Before letting out a soft grumble of frustration. "It's not that I don't trust you, or Captain Ukitake or anything like that. I just don't want to toss more problems at Rukia right now."

When she spoke those words, a fond smile crossed Kurosaki's face. And, for just a moment, Nanami thought she saw Lieutenant Shiba across from her. Allowing for the obvious gender differences, and the red eyes, the resemblance was striking.

She could easily believe this girl was a Shiba. Not Lieutenant Shiba's child, no, because he would never have had an affair. But a Shiba? Certainly.

Kurosaki looked the part. And she certainly acted the part, as well, with her protectiveness of Kuchiki. Nothing mattered more to Shibas than family and friends. They would sooner die than betray someone they cared for.

It was enough to bring a melancholy smile to the 4th Seat's face. Lieutenant Shiba would be proud of her, I think.

Still, that was for later.

"I am also interested in meeting your brother." Nanami decided to get that out of the way, early. If the way Kurosaki's eyes narrowed, it was probably a good thing she did. "Not to punish him or anything of the sort. Captain Ukitake is simply interested in meeting the boy."

"And why is that?" Kurosaki asked, without bothering to hide her suspicion. Her hand tightened on the strange blue sword she held.

Nanami wasn't intimidated. Not really. Somehow, she felt that if Kurosaki was going to attack her, she already would have. Still, no need to escalate the situation by lying or deflecting.

Soul King knew she'd dealt with Kiyone and Sentaro enough to know that didn't work.

"Substitute Shinigami are..." Nanami trailed off, biting her lip slightly. No need to sugarcoat this. "...frowned upon, to say the least. From what Captain Ukitake told me, it was to save your family. Not to steal Kuchiki's powers. Correct?"

Kurosaki's red eyes remained narrowed, before she gave off a hearty sigh, "That's about it, yes. My brother doesn't have an evil bone in his body, he'd never steal powers like that."

"Be that as it may," the 4th Seat continued, her own lips twisting into a slight frown. "His actions, and those of Kuchiki, were illegal. Captain Ukitake is the one assigned to handle Substitute Shinigami, so he simply wishes to talk with your brother and sort the situation out."

She didn't bring up the Shiba connection, for the moment. It was something she wasn't sure of, and Kurosaki...well. Kurosaki didn't bear the Shiba name. It was entirely possible she wasn't related. Unlikely, perhaps, but possible.

In any case, Kurosaki stared at Nanami. Hard. Before dismissing the sword in her hand, as it vanished in a cloud of blue reishi. The young woman rubbed at her face with her free hand, before pointing down towards the city of Karakura.

"Let's get out of the sky and talk this over some more. I'm...not against you meeting Rukia or my brother. But I want to know more about you and why you're here, first." Her hand fell away, sharp red eyes staring deep into Nanami's soul. "If you do anything that I feel threatens them, you'll wish you never came here."

For her part, Nanami held her hands up in a placating gesture. With a small smile and a slight nod. "More than fair, Kurosaki Ayumi. Lead the way."

This was still more progress than Nanami had really expected, to be honest. Even if it was abundantly apparent that Kurosaki didn't trust her, as the woman led her towards the ground.

This entire situation is curious. I do wonder what her powers are, and what relation she has to Lieutenant Shiba...and Kuchiki, for that matter.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

More of that Bleach idea. Something that we've been messing around with for awhile, but finally decided was 'good enough' to toss in here. Possible formatting weirdness aside. Shifting from a doc to here always acts weird.

 

[Cooldude101011]

Interesting. I do actually have an idea for a snip, I think a shipgirl meeting a former crewman would be quite fascinating, it's interesting to think about. Are you still writing Changing Destiny?

 

[MarkAren]

More of that Bleach idea. Something that we've been messing around with for awhile, but finally decided was 'good enough' to toss in here. Possible formatting weirdness aside. Shifting from a doc to here always acts weird.

Click to shrink...

I love the fact that someone from Soul Society trying to play the Rukia situation like 'let's not let this get all out of hand, cooler heads should prevail' can still add a heaping dose of tension just from Isshin. I'm eager to see how you let this all play out.

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Chapter 4​

'...we need to stand against the Mandalorians! Thousands, millions, are crying out for the Jedi! Entire planets, no, entire star systems have been destroyed by those butchers! Staying here, safe in our temples, is leaving the galaxy to...'

A young man, brown hair falling down his shoulders. A Jedi Knight, calling to those in the Enclave to listen. Other Knights and younger Padawans, staring with awe at his conviction. At his strength. The man with short cropped dark hair, beside him, nodding along. As did many in the crowd.

As she did, caught up in youthful fervor and a desire to do something. Her own Master had fought against the Mandalorians. Was it wrong to save those who couldn't save themselves? Was it so bad for Jedi to do what Jedi had always done? They were defenders of the peace. They fought to protect the Galaxy and Republic, as they had done for generations. What was so different, now, that the Council refused to act? The young woman, barely out of her teens, couldn't understand. So, she listened and thought.

'...don't listen to the Council. They are wise, but shortsighted. They don't see the threat of the Mandalorians. They don't understand how the Galaxy needs our help. They're content to sit in their ivory towers, as the people suffer beneath them...'

The dark-haired man, now bald and clad in armor, stood before her again. Other Padawans by his side, as they nodded and agreed with his words. Many Jedi had gone with the two men. They had defied the Council and chosen to work with those who fought for the Galaxy. And, as the words echoed in her ears, the young Padawan did the same. She stepped forward, with the bald man giving her a gentle smile and a pat on the shoulder. His words were lost to her, as everything faded away...

'...Surik, you're my most talented strategist. Alek has power, and others have skills of their own. However, I have yet to see a better general. I don't care that you're young, or that you were only Knighted recently. Results are what I care for, and you give me excellent results. As such, I'm promoting you to General. You will be my second in command, on the strategic level. Don't disappoint me, especially since my first assignment is Dxun. We're taking the fight to the Mandalorians...'

Dxun. Bloody Dxun. So many lives lost, so many dead by her hand. Either Mandalorians who fell to her blade, or Republic soldiers she had ordered to their deaths. She was no great strategist. Simply someone who knew how to throw lives away for the best result. If that made her a great General, she almost wished she had never shown those talents. It didn't matter that more would have died, had someone else commanded them. It only tore more wounds into her heart, every time she ordered her men to their doom.

A doom that ultimately came for far, far too many at Malachor V.

'...we cannot win. There are too many of them, and not enough of us. Revan has engaged Mandalore in direct combat, but that may not be enough. If we continue to fight like this, we'll only beat ourselves into the dirt. The Mandalorians simply have too many men, too many ships. To continue this fight is suicide. I must spring my trap.'

As thousands of men and women died, she watched. From the bridge of her command ship, she ordered her subordinates to their deaths. Her eyes tracked each and every ship. They grew more pained with each distant explosion. And, yet, the Mandalorians fought on. They were suffering horrendous losses all their own, but they would never give up. They would keep fighting. And they simply had more resources, even at this point of the war. It was not a fight that could be won by conventional arms.

So, she did what Revan had praised her for. She turned away from the battle, to face her Zabrak engineer. A man she might have even called a friend. He returned her stare, as they looked at each other for what felt an eternity. Before she simply nodded. No words, no orders. A simple nod.

He activated the Mass Shadow Generator. And she screamed, as Malachor V and the fleets dueling above it died. As she died, if not in body, than in soul.

'...you're far too trusting. Dantooine is too remote to make an effective demonstration. Don't worry, we'll deal with your Rebel friends soon enough...'

This was not her memory. She saw a young woman, brown hair in buns, standing on a shadowed starship bridge. A dark figure, unclear beyond his heavy breathing, behind her. A man in a grey uniform, smirking at her, as he gave orders. Orders that saw a powerful weapon fire. Orders that destroyed a world, even more thoroughly than Malachor had been.

Billions of voices cried out...and were suddenly silenced. And she screamed, once again.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

"...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Meetra Surik shot up, a scream escaping tortured lips. Her hand resting on a heart that threatened to pound out of her chest, as wild green eyes snapped around her surroundings. The...medical room. Aboard the Ebon Hawk. She was resting atop the cot, with Mical by her side. The blonde haired man did not flinch, nor did he move away from her. He simply reached a hand out, placing it on her shoulder to gently push her down.

"Relax, Exile. You're among friends." His gentle, soothing, demeanor did little to push away the memories.

Nonetheless, Meetra allowed his action. She lay back down, her brown hair matted to her forehead by a cold sweat. Her memories. And a vision not her own. Billions died. A world died. I don't know which one, or how it was done, but I know it to be true.

She had ordered the destruction of Malachor V, and it had cost her everything. Friends, comrades and so many others. Her connection to the Force, that had only recently been restored to her. And yet, for as terrible as that had been, it was a drop in the puddle by comparison. Malachor had been an abandoned world. The fleets, massive as they had been, were perhaps a million strong at most. Not billions upon billions of innocents, snuffed out in a moment.

What depraved monster would order such a thing? Construct such a weapon? The Mass Shadow Generator had been an act of desperation to end a war ravaging the entire known galaxy. This...

Meetra sucked in a steadying breath, as a hand came up to rest against her face. Speculation would get her nowhere. Instead, she calmed her breathing and slowly, hesitantly, reached out for the Force. Part of her expected nothing. That she had cut herself off, once again.

Yet, that was not the case. Her hesitant overture was returned, with a wave of soothing energy rushing through her tired soul. The Force remained, as it always had, ready to answer her call. Shrouded in Darkness, yes. Wounded by the destruction of a world, true. But the Force remained and it answered her call. The Jedi Exile allowed the barest of smiles to cross her face, as she let the energy flow through her.

"I see you've awoken, my friend." A soft, aged, voice broke her from the meditation.

Allowing her hand to fall away, Meetra turned her head. Standing in the doorway to the medical room, Ben Kenobi had his arms crossed over his chest. A small smile over his gray beard, as he looked in on her and Mical. Meetra returned the smile, though she remained on the bed. "Yeah, I have. Sorry, I...have things in my past that I'd rather not talk about."

"As we all do." Ben nodded sagely, with an old pain in his blue-grey eyes. The man uncrossed his arms and stroked his beard with one hand, as he continued, "And our pasts can make us more vulnerable to shocks than others. Although I fear no Force Sensitive was truly prepared for what we just experienced."

Beside the bed, Mical hummed softly. "That was a shock unlike any I've ever experienced. I will be the first to admit my training is not complete, but even so..." The blonde man shuddered a little. "It felt as if billions of voices screamed in terror, echoing through the Force. Not even in the Mandalorian Wars did I feel something like that."

Ben's eyebrow climbed up at the mention of the Mandalorian Wars, something that no longer surprised Meetra on the bed. She was almost certain, at this point, that her crew had somehow entered the future. Perhaps so far that her story, and that of Revan and Mandalore, was nothing but a forgotten legend.

Still, we can sort that out after we reach Alderaan. For now...

With a soft sigh of exertion, Meetra swung her legs out and sat up once more. This time, other than a lingering headache, her body didn't protest. Honestly, she'd had worse. Waking up on Peragus had been a nightmare in comparison. At least this time she wasn't surrounded by corpses and a woman pretending to be one. Which, as she felt a dull ache in her heart, was another memory she'd rather not dwell on.

Even if she did wonder how Kreia would have reacted to all of this.

"Be that as it may, we have no way of learning what happened for the moment." Ben held his arms up, shrugging as his robe shifted over his shoulders. He smiled, faintly, and shook his head. "Perhaps that is a blessing, for the moment. I have no doubt we will come to regret the knowledge, when we learn the truth."

Meetra and Mical shared a look, before sighing in unison. That was certainly true.

"Well, we should probably check in with Atton and see how close we are to Alderaan. Maybe we can find out some news there." Meetra was about to stand up, when Atton strolled into the room. As if he had heard her words. "...or we could just ask him now. So, Atton, how close are to Alderaan?"

The shaggy haired pilot snorted at the question. His eyes shifted around the cramped medical chamber, before settling on Meetra. His gaze softened, and his voice lost some of its characteristic swagger. In favor of gentle softness, when he responded, "A couple minutes out. I was coming to check up on your before we came out of hyperspace, actually. I think the kid was about to charge in here before I did."

At that statement, Ben Kenobi chuckled. "I suppose he would, at that. Luke is so very much like his father, in that regard..."

The old man trailed off, before shaking his head. The pain in his eyes deepening, enough that Meetra almost commented on it.

Almost.

Ben wasn't a member of her team. And it had taken many days, and much prodding, to get her teammates to open up about their own pasts. She had known Master Kenobi for all of a few hours. There was no reason to poke at his past right now. Perhaps later, if they stuck around with each other. Which did seem rather likely. I still don't know what happened to the Jedi in this time. Clearly nothing good, or Master Kenobi wouldn't have been so insistent on 'not being a Jedi'. I think we should stick around with him until we know more, just to be safe.

Still, that was for later. For now, Meetra turned to Atton with a small smile, "Guess I should get up to the cockpit then. I am the co-pilot, after all."

Atton snorted again. Mical, on the other hand, reached a hand out. He gently pulled the Exile to her feet, with a pensive expression on his face. "If you're certain, Exile. But I would suggest you don't push yourself. We still aren't certain what we felt, as of yet."

"Other than a lot of death." That was really the only response that fit, in the moment. Even Atton turned away, as Meetra sighed. "Right, right, enough moping! Let's focus on the mission for now."

Not that she actually knew what the mission was. Simply that Ben and Luke needed transport to Alderaan. She had accepted on the premise that Ben was a Jedi, and Jedi helped their own. She wasn't going to ask him for details, but still, the fact remained.

Atton looked as if he were reading her mind, before shrugging with his usual cocky grin, "Then let's get back to the cockpit. I think we've spent enough time sitting around, doing nothing."

"As if sitting in the cockpit, watching hyperspace, is doing anything." Mical actually joked, with such an innocent expression on his face that even old Ben couldn't help a hearty laugh.

Despite everything...it felt good. To laugh and joke, in the face of what they had all felt.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-​

Unfortunately, that good feeling would not last. Soon after returning to the cockpit, Meetra found herself hard at work. Beside her, Atton was swinging the Ebon Hawk through rapid evasive maneuvers. His face scrunched up in concentration, while Meetra adjusted the shields and power supply to the engines.

This isn't right. Alderaan doesn't have an asteroid field this close, and things don't change that quickly. Not on a galactic scale!

For as soon as the Hawk had left hyperspace, the old freighter was pummeled by small stones. With a swarm of larger asteroids, big and small, surrounding her. Far too densely packed to be a normal asteroid belt. And certainly not one so close to Alderaan. Even with the stellar drift issue, Meetra trusted Atton and T3's navigation skills. They had been set to come out in near orbit of the Core World. About as close as they could get without the gravity well tugging them out in more violent fashion.

None of this made any sense. Unless...

"I don't get it," Atton grumbled, as he spun the Hawk over a particularly large asteroid. He wouldn't say it, vocally, but he was flashing back to Peragus. "There's no asteroid field on the star charts. Not here."

Meetra flicked a couple switches, sending a set of red blasts at a nearby rock. As that detonated, she slumped back in her seat. "I'm more concerned by the fact Alderaan isn't there." The young woman shook her head, when Atton flicked his eyes her way. "Ignore the asteroids, for the moment. We should have come out of hyperspace in close orbit of Alderaan. And it's not there."

As the final rocks fell behind the Hawk, Atton looked at Meetra and frowned deeply. "The only way that makes any sense is..."

"...if the Empire destroyed the planet." Ben Kenobi finished, walking into the cockpit. He stood by the Galaxy Map, while Luke Skywalker stood beside him. Gaping dumbly at the old man, who looked even older in that moment. "It's as I feared, then. No darkness, no depravity, is beneath the Emperor."

Meetra and Atton shared another look, before the Jedi Exile spun around in her chair. "I think you'll need to tell us more about this Empire, soon. For now, we need a new plan. Alderaan is clearly out. Are there any other locations we could go, instead?"

"Almost certainly." Ben, still looking tired, nodded. And frowned. "However, I would not know where. Perhaps our droid friends have an idea, but I have been in exile for far too long."

Atton couldn't help a bark of laughter, "Great, we've picked up another Jedi exile. Join the club, old man."

While Ben frowned at her friend, Meetra sighed. Right. That wasn't exactly helpful, but it also wasn't surprising...

Before she could finish the thought, an alarm began to blare. And the Ebon Hawk shook violently. Meetra spun her chair around again, while Luke stumbled into the curved wall of the cockpit.

"What was that?" He gulped, nervously looking at the unfamiliar instruments.

"That was blaster fire." Atton responded, head back in the game as his hands danced over the cockpit controls. "Looks like...a single fighter. I think. Don't recognize the design."

As he said that, the fighter in question zoomed past. It was massive in the viewport, for a moment, before speeding away towards a distant grey sphere. The fighter, for its part, was a round central fuselage with two straight panels on either side. Not wings. But what looked like solar panels, pointed straight up on either side of the spherical center section.

It looked nothing like an Aurek or Sith Interceptor.

Ben frowned deeply as the fighter flew away, "That was an Imperial fighter. A short range one."

"So it had to have come from a base." Meetra nodded along. "Atton, follow it. I have a feeling we'll find answers if we do."

A bad feeling, admittedly. But, if Ben was right and this 'Empire' had destroyed Alderaan? It stood to reason that this fighter was related to that. Either based off whatever had done the planet in, or at least a ship involved in it. Following it would give answers. Maybe not the answers they wanted, but...it was all they had.

It didn't stop Atton from groaning, though. "Damnit, Exile. Fine, let's go into the laigrek nest. That's never failed us before."

The reference was lost on Luke, who simply stared at the retreating starfighter, "It's getting away! What if they identify us?" He frowned, hand twitching towards his father's lightsaber. "We'd be in big trouble if they do."

"Kid, they shouldn't have anything to identify." Atton snarked, though his attention was fully locked in on the fighter. Possibly thousands of years of development or not, it wasn't that much faster than the Hawk. If he pushed the engines a bit...

Meetra, to answer the unspoken question, finished Atton's statement. "We were very careful leaving Tatooine. As near as we can tell, the Empire shouldn't know you're aboard the Hawk. Or who we are, for that matter."

"I dearly hope you're correct, my friend." Ben looked at the fighter with a pensive frown. "In any event, that fighter is a close range model. Wherever it originated, it can't be far."

Beside him, Luke seemed to have recovered his nerves. The young man stared out at the fighter, biting his lip in thought. His hand tapped his father's lightsaber, in a nervous tick. With a soft sigh, Luke shook his head, "Maybe it got lost from a convoy or something? Biggs showed me how fighters like that could dock with Gozantis."

That name meant nothing, to Meetra or Atton. So, they let their guests talk to one another and focused on chasing the fighter.

As they continued to chase the Imperial ship, the sphere in the distance gradually grew larger. At first, it appeared to be a moon. It was too large to be a normal asteroid, and far too uniformly round. And it was certainly too large to be a space station...right? Citadel Station had been larger, yes, but it was also built around Telos. Yet, an asteroid or moon didn't fit either. Meetra couldn't say why. But it just didn't.

Staring at the sphere, as they grew ever closer, Meetra could only think one thing.

That's no moon.

"It looks like it's going for that moon!" Luke, however, didn't think the same. He leaned over the center console, pointing out at the large sphere. "See! I wonder if that's where the base is..."

Atton looked over at Meetra, a grim look in his eyes. She returned the look.

"There's no moon on the charts, not here." Atton reached up a hand, gently pushing Luke back. "Which means..."

Ben finished, grimly, "That's no moon. It's a space station."

---

You know, thought about continuing this into the Death Star...but this felt like the right place to end it. Also, yes, another snip. This time going back to the Jedi Exile side of things.

For now, not much changes compared to ANH. Hasn't been much room for things to change, really. Up to boarding the Death Star, things follow the same pattern. Could have had the Hawk be slower than the Falcon and arrive after the Death Star already left, we suppose. That is a viable option. However, to do that is to consign Leia to her death. Tarkin ordered her execution, and Vader- who is highly unlikely to realize she's his daughter -certainly has no reason to dispute that. Since we don't much feel like killing off one of the main characters of the OT off-screen, that means things follow the stations of canon. For now.

Things will be going rather off the rails, once aboard the Death Star

 

[Cooldude101011]

Hey @Skywalker_T-65 I'd really like to know if your still writing Changing Destiny or if it's abandoned.

Nonetheless, this snip is pretty cool, I'll check out the earlier chapters.

 

[Sheo Darren]

Two new shorts in as many days. I'm very happy.

Ayumi's protectiveness of her family shows. And makes an impression on Nanami, who I'm surprised to learn is an actual character from a Bleach game.

Meanwhile, Meetra's unknowingly raising death flags for Obi-Wan, although she's surely going to keep Ben alive in this timeline.

Thanks for the fun updates!

 

[CV12Hornet]

Hey @Skywalker_T-65 I'd really like to know if your still writing Changing Destiny or if it's abandoned.

Nonetheless, this snip is pretty cool, I'll check out the earlier chapters.

Click to shrink...

This is not the Changing Destiny thread. Stop badgering Sky about it.

 

[Cooldude101011]

This is not the Changing Destiny thread. Stop badgering Sky about it.

Click to shrink...

Okay, sorry. I'll stop