- Location
- Padded cell with a view
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No. Peace is a lie.
Also, you made your bed, now you'll sit in it and like it!
The Weaving Force
- Thread starter LD1449
- Start date
-
- Tags
- star wars worm alexandria crossover
Also, you made your bed, now you'll sit in it and like it!
- Location
- The Internet?
Hard to tell which section I liked more, they were both triumphs!
Alexandria: Dafuq you say? Don't make medestroy you come over there!
OTL Palpatine: I am the Senate!
Alexandria: Dafuq you say? Don't make me
He's just going out for some smokes! Real good ones. He'll be right back!
I'm just picturing a grumpy Palpatine, trying to meditate, shoulders hunched and arms crossed, with all these electronics buzzing and beeping. It brings a smile to my face.
Just hide them under the rug, or Rings of whatever gas giant you have on hand.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Congrats, I'm now picturing Palpatine stuffing a Star System's worth of dead people under his office rugs and using liberal amounts of mind tricks to convince people they're imagining things.
Chapter 96
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Chapter 96:
Yoshiro:
He was down to eight men, and all they had to show for it was a shorted-out lightsaber and a bloodied lip.
And he didn't even know how the hell it happened.
He had four more minutes before the power supply ran out.
So far, she'd been mostly avoiding him. Instead, she preferred chasing down his men, disabling or killing them one by one.
If she kept that up, he'd just be inside a glorified box by the time she deigned to face him.
He had to make her want to fight him.
The Jedi stared at her saber, still sparking, a thin line of smoke wafting out of the opening on its hilt.
He shut off his suit's external speakers, opening private lines to the eight Mandalorians still standing.
"Listen up," he called. "Ramah, Koiur, Vanel, when I give the word, you three are running."
There were immediate protests from his men; how much of it was real or reflexive bravado, he neither knew nor cared.
"We're not winning here." His voice carried through their noise.
"She's down a saber, she can't-"
As if hearing the man's words, there was a sudden, screeching wrench, a squeal of protesting, shorn metal as Dallon tore a jagged piece of piping from the wall. The crude tearing gave the thing a jagged, toothed edge.
With her raw strength… it would cut.
"I am not arguing and I am not asking!" he snarled, acid burning deep in his heart. A toxic, searing hate coursed through his veinsas he stared at the glowing cybernetic eye piercing the gloom. It mocked them, reminding them again that she could be hurt.
They were just too frakking weak to do it. "You three are retreating. The remaining five will give us cover."
"Us? Sir?" one of his men questioned.
"Gonna ask what's left of you one more time…" Dallon sneered, and he could read on her face that the Jedi wanted them to say no. Wanted them to give her a reason.
Heh. A Jedi with the taste for a fight.
He almost liked her in that moment.
"Surrender," she demanded.
He ignored her, instead continuing to instruct his men through the sealed-off comm link."Yeah," he answered them succinctly. Smirking with black malice that would be hidden by his helm, he added, "I need a second to get her attention."
His men were hesitant. Afraid. Five of them were being laid up as sacrifices, pieces on the board. And they knew it.
"Vanel," he called. "I'm transferring the suit's cams into your personal datapad. Retrieve it and run. We need that data. I don't care if it'll take another six months, but we've seen her get hurt. Something in this footage has the answer on how."
"Understood, sir."
"Koiur, the servers and data storage units should have been purged already, but they haven't been. Don't know why. Go and see why the others haven't done their damn jobs. Purge all the data on the project."
"Got it."
"Ramah… retrieve the Sith."
"What?"
"She hit her," he explained. "She's the only one that's done that, as far as we know. Maybe she knows how she did it."
He doubted it. Frankly, he'd been close enough to see the surprise on her face with his own two eyes. But, maybe afterwards, she'd realize something. Some Force trick. Something he or the others hadn't seen in the heat of the moment.
Between that, or just sacrificing a sixth man, the choice was obvious, really.
"Is she even still alive?"
"You're gonna find out." He shrugged.
Even so, Ramah didn't sound pleased as he bit out his confirmation.
And Dallon was done waiting.
Her improvised blade sliced through the air, its jagged tip pointed downwards, and she lunged.
"GO!" He roared, and the five men ordered to intercept her did so, rushing in with defiant cries on their lips, blades and blasters in hand as the other three rushed to take off.
He didn't bother seeing how it ended, he already knew, and he needed every precious second.
If the Jedi was going to go after his men, well.
Two could play that game.
—
Dennis:
"Take Vicky with you, it'll be no problem," he muttered in a mocking tone under his breath. "She's older now, a Jedi now, responsible now-"
He stopped griping for a moment as another earth-shaking crash echoed somewhere off in the distance. Dennis was getting a remarkable feeling of deja vu, being here. Vicky flying off to bust through walls and heads and to take on the biggest fucking thing available with the subtlety of a brick to the face, while he and the rest of the 'heroes' had to keep their eye on the goddamn ball? Very familiar territory!
And he wasn't getting hazard pay out of it this time, either!
A blaster bolt splashed off his armor. The heat scored the plate and the thermal bleed felt wonderfully unpleasant against his pectoral. He leveled his returning shot, clipping the Mandalorian in the hip as he and his fellows pulled back.
To his right, Asajj was fending off three more of the armored bastards. She'd already managed to take down two, her lightsaber slipping past the beskar plating by finding the gaps.
It still didn't change that they were on the clock.
Dennis knew Mandalorians. Probably not as well as Hannah did, but when you live around people for the better part of ten years, you picked up a thing or two.
Mandalorians, no matter what ideology they followed, were stubborn. They dug in their heels and did not move on whatever it was unless you moved them. Or at least cut off their legs at the ankles. Satine, for all her 'breaking away' from the old ways, was exactly like that on the subject of pacifism. And even Alexandria had trouble chopping off her metaphorical ankles.
So, a force of this size, and with this much organization, and this much stupid pride? The fact that they were retreating at all was a cause for concern.
So he followed after them, keeping pace, pushing through withering levels of fire with time-frozen bits of cloth or crates for cover. Ventress, for her part, deflected their blaster bolts right back at them, keeping pace. He was not letting this particular group out of his sight.
They were deep in the facility now. Three of the royal guards that had been following him had broken off to chase another group. The sounds of fighting echoed through the facility, making it impossible to pinpoint what fight was happening where.
"Hold them off! I need more time!"
Bingo
"Asajj!" he called. She rounded on him, eyes still aflame with bitter anger over her previous close call.
An issue for later.
One Mandalorian tried to shoot at her now-exposed blindspot, but a flick of a saber sent the attack back at the attacker and a Force grasp sent the main sailing into the ceiling with bone breaking force before smashing him headfirst into the floor.
Definitely an issue for later.
He pointed with his gun. "They're up to something! Gotta stop 'em!"
She snarled, and sailed across the room with a tremendous leap, lunging for the Mandalorians that were guarding the doorway.
Dennis moved to rush after her and give her some backup, but something crashed into his back and knocked the air out of him as he was smashed face first into the ground.
His blaster flew out of his grip and Dennis rolled, getting on his back to see what had happened just in time to see a beskar covered fist coming down to punch him dead in the face.
He jerked his head to the side, the fist smashing into the floor grating beside him with a deafening bang that made his ears ring, but his hands still managed to touch the beskar vambrace.
The piece of armor was frozen, and Dennis heard the Mandalorian's startled and confused 'What the-?' before he cocked back his leg and mule kicked at the armored shin as hard as he could to knock the guy's foot out from under him.
The Mandalorian fell, and his arm locked in the gauntlet's now-unnatural position made the fall both awkward and painful.
That gave Dennis room to lunge up, coiling his arms around the man's shoulder so he could pull him down even further.
Something shifted inside the arm - not broken, but definitely dislocated somewhere.
The Mandalorian screamed, howling in pain and fury. Dennis could feel him looking to pull a weapon from somewhere with his free hand.
Dennis was just faster.
He brought his leg up, pulling his knee almost to his chest as he reached, drawing his holdout blaster from the ankle holster before pressing it flush into the Mandalorian's side, right where there was no beskar, pulling the trigger three rapid times. He felt the body jerk once, twice, and then be still by the third.
Extricating himself from underneath his now-dead opponent, Dennis took a second to catch his breath before shambling to his feet and plucking his main blaster off the floor, and finally moving after Ventress.
—
Victoria:
[Sorrow] [Remorse]
The emotions floated around the back of her thoughts, truthful and sincere.
It had been a long time since Victoria had gotten hurt in any real way and Fragile thought it was her fault.
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright," she promised.
Because it wasn't Fragile's fault.
It was hers.
Overconfident, stupid.
Well… she was done playing now.
The five Mandalorians met her charge, each of them moving almost in slow motion. She noted the other three, but the emotions she got from them weren't hostile; they were looking to escape.
But the surprise, and the one that worried her, was the old man in the armored suit.
His presence still churned with malice, a foreboding in the Force that thrummed across her senses like a pulsating heartbeat.
She couldn't afford to waste time with these five.
The tight, controlled tether she held on her aura unfurled.
Like an invisible wall, the mind-altering energy crashed over the five Mandalorians. The effect was immediate.
Vicky could see it, feel it: the yellow haze of fear, the orange of dread. It built and built in their minds, breaking through the bravado and bravery like a brushfire quickly growing out of control.
The attacks were panicked now, desperate. The pinpoint aim that was visible in their previous attacks was gone. Their hands and legs were shaking. Some didn't even shoot, their minds racked with indecision.
The emotions washed over her, pervading her senses like a thick, cloying miasma. She could barely breathe with how suffocating it was.
And then it was too late. She was already on them.
She ducked under the first shot, the red bolt sailing over her head to crack into his friend's visor. He fell back with a cry as Vicky swung with her improvised blade.
It wasn't a lightsaber.
It wasn't beskar.
But it was still a piece of steel moving with 14 tons behind it, and for all intents and purposes, it was indestructible as she shifted and molded the Fragile One's barrier to extend, coiling around the blade to give it the same durability she enjoyed.
It carved through armor, flesh, sinew and bone like it wasn't even there.
Her shield flickered, but it was back in time to block the blood that would have showered her, arterial spray gushing from the now-missing leg. Its former owner screamed in pain, clutching at the stump.
Four to go.
Another blaster was drawn, pointing dead center at her face as her free hand reached out, clenching shut, and the Mandalorian's limbs were suddenly crushed to his side, the blaster pressed into his hip, struggling with straining muscles as she heard him breathing rapidly. A split second later, her kick crashed into his chest, folding the chestplate as it sent him sailing across the room with a mess of shattered ribs.
Three more.
The one that had shot her first readjusted his aim, taking one shot that splashed against her temple, causing her shield to flicker out as she dodged his second shot and turned her body around to avoid the third.
Then her shield was back, and her 'sword' was facing him.
She thrust, and the blade punched through beskar like rice paper, digging into his gut before she yanked it free and kicked the gun away.
Two to go.
The second to last one turned and ran. His fear - or rather, the fear her aura placed on him - overwhelmed his discipline and bravery. It was poisonous and sickening to her senses, but she could feel it.
Then the one that had gotten shot in the face at the start finally got his bearings again, trying to bring his blaster rifle to bear before it was sliced in half before he could blink.
He drew a knife-
And he lost his hand.
She turned to the one running, jetpack thrusters howling as he rushed to the nearest exit. She readied to pursue.
Then her senses flared.
—
Iskt:
"Stop squirming."
If she were not wearing a helmet, Iskt was pretty sure the girl's response to the command would have been to try to bite him.
Master Anjr and Knight Lisen were ahead of them, pushing deeper into the facility. Four of the Mandalorian royal guards were providing support at their backs, gunning down retreating Mandalorians and securing the base room by room.
Iskt followed them from a safe distance, the prisoner firmly in his grasp.
He didn't have anything to tie her limbs, but he was far, far stronger than her, so holding her in place wasn't difficult, just annoying.
The Trandoshan Padawan spread his senses through the base, trying to determine what exactly was happening across the facility. He found only chaos and madness in the cacophony of battle. Even the conflict around Master Dallon, deep in the heart of the base, was impossible to truly follow. All he could tell was that his Master was alive and that many of the Mandalorians that had followed her were not.
"Ba'buir Kelir kyr'amur gar bal wear gar pel'gam trandoshan."
He didn't know a lick of Mando'a. But he knew enough about human tones to understand when he was probably being insulted.
"Quiet," he hissed threateningly by rumbling his throat, and tightened the hold he had on her forearms behind her back.
"Gar jetiise's ve'ganir meg's coming at kaysh."
She uselessly tried to jerk out of his grip, and Iskt felt his irritation spike again. He didn't let it show on his face, though.
"Ba'buir Kelir ganar kaysh beskad guuror a troph."
He pulled her arms perhaps a bit higher on her back than was strictly necessary. "I sai-"
He stopped.
His senses flared, warnings of danger echoing in the Force. The two Jedi ahead of them sensed it too, pausing mid-pursuit as the whole base seemed to shake around them.
Then, again.
And again.
His warning came too late.
"GET-"
The wall was torn down.
The machine that rushed out of the opening was a behemoth of a thing. Larger than a fully-grown Wookiee or Trandoshan, it hulked at roughly five meters, maybe more. A crackling spear weapon was in its hand, and a heavy repeater was slung on the underside of its forearm.
Iskt saw one of the Mandalorian royal guards' skulls get crushed by falling stone. Another's arm snapped like a dry twig. The two remaining guards tried to bring their weapons to bear.
The first man was cut clean in half before the rifle was even level, and the last was immediately under fire by the heavy repeater.
Master Anjr leapt forward, trying to interpose himself between the last standing royal guard and the rain of green blaster bolts that fell on him. The Jedi Master lasted long enough for Knight Lisen to hurl a chunk of fallen building at the mechanical monster's head.
The thing turned, rounding on the approaching projectile before catching it in its massive fist and throwing it right back at Knight Lisen.
The Corellian Knight's eyes widened as he lunged sideways to avoid the deadly return delivery. Master Anjr lunged, green lightsaber thrusting straight for the center chestpiece.
The blade touched the thick curia, and a spark of electricity killed the saber right in the Jedi Master's grip.
Iskt felt his shock, the momentary alarm and the realization…
And then he saw that glaive slice the Jedi Master in two like it had the Mandalorian royal guard before him.
"Ba'buir!"
The girl's cry brought the machine's single eye rounding towards them.
Iskt knew immediately - as Master Victoria would say - that he was in deep, deep shit.
He shoved the girl to the side, pushing her as hard and as far away as he could. Both hands now free, he gripped his saber in a defensive stance as the monster lunged towards him with a burst of jet engines, its glaive raised high and coming down fast.
He'd fought with Master Victoria too many times to not know how to fight against something impossibly stronger than him.
He ducked and sidestepped, his blade coming up and angled in a way to let the glaive glance off to his side, its crackling edge crashing next to his foot. The counterweight came towards his face and Iskt rolled forward, into the monster's guard and between its legs, careful not to let his blade touch the armor at all, lest he be down a lightsaber as well.
He got to his feet and had to throw himself on the ground again to avoid the sideways swipe that would have bisected him, using the Force to lift and rapidly pelt the metal monster with debris and chunks of pulped rock and twisted metal.
The heavy repeater on its arm spat out green bolts and Iskt tried from his laying position to deflect them, only to immediately prioritize what would be immediately fatal, feeling bolts burn into his leg and exposed arm, still prioritizing his vitals above all else. If he wasn't dead, Trandoshan regeneration could fix it later.
Even so, the pain was blinding. A desperate haze fell over his mind as adrenaline and pure survival instinct kicked in. He wondered if he was going to die here, as he saw the thing lift up its glaive for one more swing.
But the blow never came.
With a bang that sounded more like a bomb going off in his face, the thing was smashed aside, its body bouncing across the floor like a rock. Master Victoria was there, kneeling at his side, her eyes wide and worried.
He didn't like seeing her worried.
Iskt made himself smile.
"Don't worry, Master," he panted. "I… only had to last long enough for you to get here."
—
Yoshiro:
Warning lights blared across his HUD, all yellow signs.
Just one hit, and already there was damage.
Had she been holding back this whole time?
Still, he didn't let it show in his voice. Huffing out a grim, satisfied laugh, he stared through the dust at the woman as she knelt at the Trandoshan boy's side. "Finally gonna stop flying around and fight?" he taunted when he saw her look around the rest of the room at the dead royal guards and the other reptilian Jedi.
She turned her eyes back to him, glaring with naked anger on her face.
He snorted. "You go after my men. Only fair I go after yours."
She stood, interposing herself between him and the boy still laying on the ground behind her. "I'm gonna turn that overgrown tin can into your coffin, Mandalorian."
His eyes glanced towards the timer for the power supply.
One minute, thirty-seven seconds.
"Stop talking and FIGHT ME!"
The engines burst to life, pushing him forward on a column of fire. The glaive crackled with forking tongues of lightning as the built-in heavy repeater spat green bolts of energy.
She didn't have a lightsaber; she couldn't deflect it all. But still, he saw her move, strafing to avoid the hail of bolts, sometimes stepping between them as she met his charge.
He lunged for her, the blade thrusting straight for her head before she sidestepped that too. She swung that iron pipe she was using as a sword at his open left side.
He swung armored forearm in an attempt to bash aside the strike, but the titanic blow slammed into him, rocking the suit back with impossible force. It let up barely in time for him to regain his footing before she shoved with renewed strength.
His eyes went wide as he glanced at the plating that used to protect his forearm; the near half-meter thick metal had a deep horrid gouge shorn into it.
That… wasn't possible, just by the sheer compositions of the two colliding steels..
Her weapon was a cheap, flimsy piece, little better than rebar; the suit was the highest grade of Mandalorian metallurgy available short of beskar. It could have shrugged off a tank shell.
That 'sword' of hers should have snapped clean off like a dry twig before it even put a scratch on his armor!
How?
His thoughts were cut off by Dallon's bare fist smashing into his armor's chest piece, driving him back. The metal warped, but it still held up well enough to let him swing his weapon again.
She flew back, out of his reach, returning with a dizzying corkscrew attack that would be impossible for anyone without the ability to fly. It was only decades of experience and pure instinct that let him track, or more accurately, guess where that weapon was striking as she spun chaotically through the air.
This time, he activated his energy shield and it bloomed across his arm. The power reserves were unimportant in the face of that sword somehow being able to breach his armor.
The blow, like all the others before it, was titanic. The energy shield popped like a soap bubble. But, when the blade struck his armor it bounced off, its force expended on shattering the shield, and he riposted with his crackling glaive. For a moment, it felt like it just bounced off her 'sword', but the power field and superior make of his blade cut her bit of ragged metal clean in half with no resistance, as it should have from the very beginning.
He tried, in the follow up, to strike her with the heavy counterweight. The multi-bladed end of the glaive was more like a mace; one solid hit to the face and most sentients would be dead regardless.
Her fist lashed out, battering the glaive out of his hands with a single, monstrous blow that sent Yoshiro reeling. He roared in fury and frustration, lunging for her head with nothing but the suit's fists, looking to crush her skull like a grape.
But she was too fast. Accelerating faster than his eyes could track, she was a blur of white and gold. He barely even registered her being out of his grip and inside his guard before both her fists smashed into his suit's main body. Red warning lights flared as he was pushed back, his feet scrambling for purchase on pulped rock and crushed gravel.
He smashed into the reinforced wall, rebar and duracrete folding like cardboard around him and pinning his machine in place.
Then, Dallon started punching.
The blows were rapid, as fast as a repeater on full auto and loud as cannon shots. The sound, the sound felt like it was shaking his body to pieces inside his suit. His external cameras saw dust and rocks crumbling over him, her every blow smashing him deeper and deeper into the duracrete.
In front of his eyes, the metal chestplate was breaking apart with every titanic blow.
The armor that should have theoretically endured her strength, that had held up until now, was rapidly giving way under the onslaught. Inside the tin can, his body was being shaken to death by the concussive force that rattled through all of the shocks, struts, and inertial protections.
He felt a trickle of blood down his nose and lip. His vision was losing focus, but his hands moved in practiced motions, pure determination keeping his fingers steady. His targeting systems activated, and the last weapons came online. Only a few seconds were left before his power supply would be empty.
The hands of the suit came crashing down over her shoulders, both limbs locking in place to hold her. He tightened his grip as much as he could with the last dregs of power left.
Then, the shoulders of the suit suddenly popped open. An array of primed whistling birds, hundreds of them, sailing out of the machine's hidden compartments.
And he saw it.
There.
There, for a brief second. An instant.
A sliver of nothing, so fast you could confuse it as nothing more than a trick of the light.
But he knew what he'd seen. He knew what was there.
Fear.
For the briefest instant-
He had her.
Then, the whistling birds, sailing on screeching wings, exploded in mid air, crushed by Jedi sorcery before they ever reached the target.
Yoshiro snarled, his vision going a hazy red.
How?
HOW!?
The chest armor burst open and the old man, with his battered body, his shattered leg, and nothing but the knife he'd fashioned with his own two hands decades and decades ago lunged for her.
Dallon's cyan blue eye flashed, and Yoshiro barely felt her hands grasp his plunging fist, slim fingers almost caressing his before sheer, irresistible strength turned the blade back on him.
The knife plunged into his chest.
The air was shoved out of his lungs before he felt the pain.
The old Mandalorian coughed blood, spattering a red pattern over her armor and clothes.
With the darkness creeping along the edges of his vision… he saw that even that was slipping away. Sliding off of her. Leaving no stains. Never even touching her immaculate flesh.
How?
How… does it… work?
His eyes shut.
The answer never came.
(X)(X)(X)
And so we reach the end of Vicky's fight.
NGL, I had *a lot* of fun with this one. Picking the Force powers that Vicky would specialize in for maximum synergy, designing her fighting style from the ground up, her trump cards and such- It was so much fun.
Next chapter we see the culmination of the Kashyyyk arc too and that's gonna have *a lot* of implications and lore to chew on for those of you who enjoy it.
As usual you can find 3 advance chapters on Patreon for just 1.00 a month along with exclusive Artwork and early access to my original work for those of you interested (Space Opera Sci-Fi as well
)
And you can find us also on discord here Join the Ld's Corner Club Discord Server!
We also have a TV tropes page that could use some love https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/TheWeavingForce
And thanks again for everyone's continued support and I'll catch you all in the next one
Yoshiro:
He was down to eight men, and all they had to show for it was a shorted-out lightsaber and a bloodied lip.
And he didn't even know how the hell it happened.
He had four more minutes before the power supply ran out.
So far, she'd been mostly avoiding him. Instead, she preferred chasing down his men, disabling or killing them one by one.
If she kept that up, he'd just be inside a glorified box by the time she deigned to face him.
He had to make her want to fight him.
The Jedi stared at her saber, still sparking, a thin line of smoke wafting out of the opening on its hilt.
He shut off his suit's external speakers, opening private lines to the eight Mandalorians still standing.
"Listen up," he called. "Ramah, Koiur, Vanel, when I give the word, you three are running."
There were immediate protests from his men; how much of it was real or reflexive bravado, he neither knew nor cared.
"We're not winning here." His voice carried through their noise.
"She's down a saber, she can't-"
As if hearing the man's words, there was a sudden, screeching wrench, a squeal of protesting, shorn metal as Dallon tore a jagged piece of piping from the wall. The crude tearing gave the thing a jagged, toothed edge.
With her raw strength… it would cut.
"I am not arguing and I am not asking!" he snarled, acid burning deep in his heart. A toxic, searing hate coursed through his veinsas he stared at the glowing cybernetic eye piercing the gloom. It mocked them, reminding them again that she could be hurt.
They were just too frakking weak to do it. "You three are retreating. The remaining five will give us cover."
"Us? Sir?" one of his men questioned.
"Gonna ask what's left of you one more time…" Dallon sneered, and he could read on her face that the Jedi wanted them to say no. Wanted them to give her a reason.
Heh. A Jedi with the taste for a fight.
He almost liked her in that moment.
"Surrender," she demanded.
He ignored her, instead continuing to instruct his men through the sealed-off comm link."Yeah," he answered them succinctly. Smirking with black malice that would be hidden by his helm, he added, "I need a second to get her attention."
His men were hesitant. Afraid. Five of them were being laid up as sacrifices, pieces on the board. And they knew it.
"Vanel," he called. "I'm transferring the suit's cams into your personal datapad. Retrieve it and run. We need that data. I don't care if it'll take another six months, but we've seen her get hurt. Something in this footage has the answer on how."
"Understood, sir."
"Koiur, the servers and data storage units should have been purged already, but they haven't been. Don't know why. Go and see why the others haven't done their damn jobs. Purge all the data on the project."
"Got it."
"Ramah… retrieve the Sith."
"What?"
"She hit her," he explained. "She's the only one that's done that, as far as we know. Maybe she knows how she did it."
He doubted it. Frankly, he'd been close enough to see the surprise on her face with his own two eyes. But, maybe afterwards, she'd realize something. Some Force trick. Something he or the others hadn't seen in the heat of the moment.
Between that, or just sacrificing a sixth man, the choice was obvious, really.
"Is she even still alive?"
"You're gonna find out." He shrugged.
Even so, Ramah didn't sound pleased as he bit out his confirmation.
And Dallon was done waiting.
Her improvised blade sliced through the air, its jagged tip pointed downwards, and she lunged.
"GO!" He roared, and the five men ordered to intercept her did so, rushing in with defiant cries on their lips, blades and blasters in hand as the other three rushed to take off.
He didn't bother seeing how it ended, he already knew, and he needed every precious second.
If the Jedi was going to go after his men, well.
Two could play that game.
—
Dennis:
"Take Vicky with you, it'll be no problem," he muttered in a mocking tone under his breath. "She's older now, a Jedi now, responsible now-"
He stopped griping for a moment as another earth-shaking crash echoed somewhere off in the distance. Dennis was getting a remarkable feeling of deja vu, being here. Vicky flying off to bust through walls and heads and to take on the biggest fucking thing available with the subtlety of a brick to the face, while he and the rest of the 'heroes' had to keep their eye on the goddamn ball? Very familiar territory!
And he wasn't getting hazard pay out of it this time, either!
A blaster bolt splashed off his armor. The heat scored the plate and the thermal bleed felt wonderfully unpleasant against his pectoral. He leveled his returning shot, clipping the Mandalorian in the hip as he and his fellows pulled back.
To his right, Asajj was fending off three more of the armored bastards. She'd already managed to take down two, her lightsaber slipping past the beskar plating by finding the gaps.
It still didn't change that they were on the clock.
Dennis knew Mandalorians. Probably not as well as Hannah did, but when you live around people for the better part of ten years, you picked up a thing or two.
Mandalorians, no matter what ideology they followed, were stubborn. They dug in their heels and did not move on whatever it was unless you moved them. Or at least cut off their legs at the ankles. Satine, for all her 'breaking away' from the old ways, was exactly like that on the subject of pacifism. And even Alexandria had trouble chopping off her metaphorical ankles.
So, a force of this size, and with this much organization, and this much stupid pride? The fact that they were retreating at all was a cause for concern.
So he followed after them, keeping pace, pushing through withering levels of fire with time-frozen bits of cloth or crates for cover. Ventress, for her part, deflected their blaster bolts right back at them, keeping pace. He was not letting this particular group out of his sight.
They were deep in the facility now. Three of the royal guards that had been following him had broken off to chase another group. The sounds of fighting echoed through the facility, making it impossible to pinpoint what fight was happening where.
"Hold them off! I need more time!"
Bingo
"Asajj!" he called. She rounded on him, eyes still aflame with bitter anger over her previous close call.
An issue for later.
One Mandalorian tried to shoot at her now-exposed blindspot, but a flick of a saber sent the attack back at the attacker and a Force grasp sent the main sailing into the ceiling with bone breaking force before smashing him headfirst into the floor.
Definitely an issue for later.
He pointed with his gun. "They're up to something! Gotta stop 'em!"
She snarled, and sailed across the room with a tremendous leap, lunging for the Mandalorians that were guarding the doorway.
Dennis moved to rush after her and give her some backup, but something crashed into his back and knocked the air out of him as he was smashed face first into the ground.
His blaster flew out of his grip and Dennis rolled, getting on his back to see what had happened just in time to see a beskar covered fist coming down to punch him dead in the face.
He jerked his head to the side, the fist smashing into the floor grating beside him with a deafening bang that made his ears ring, but his hands still managed to touch the beskar vambrace.
The piece of armor was frozen, and Dennis heard the Mandalorian's startled and confused 'What the-?' before he cocked back his leg and mule kicked at the armored shin as hard as he could to knock the guy's foot out from under him.
The Mandalorian fell, and his arm locked in the gauntlet's now-unnatural position made the fall both awkward and painful.
That gave Dennis room to lunge up, coiling his arms around the man's shoulder so he could pull him down even further.
Something shifted inside the arm - not broken, but definitely dislocated somewhere.
The Mandalorian screamed, howling in pain and fury. Dennis could feel him looking to pull a weapon from somewhere with his free hand.
Dennis was just faster.
He brought his leg up, pulling his knee almost to his chest as he reached, drawing his holdout blaster from the ankle holster before pressing it flush into the Mandalorian's side, right where there was no beskar, pulling the trigger three rapid times. He felt the body jerk once, twice, and then be still by the third.
Extricating himself from underneath his now-dead opponent, Dennis took a second to catch his breath before shambling to his feet and plucking his main blaster off the floor, and finally moving after Ventress.
—
Victoria:
[Sorrow] [Remorse]
The emotions floated around the back of her thoughts, truthful and sincere.
It had been a long time since Victoria had gotten hurt in any real way and Fragile thought it was her fault.
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright," she promised.
Because it wasn't Fragile's fault.
It was hers.
Overconfident, stupid.
Well… she was done playing now.
The five Mandalorians met her charge, each of them moving almost in slow motion. She noted the other three, but the emotions she got from them weren't hostile; they were looking to escape.
But the surprise, and the one that worried her, was the old man in the armored suit.
His presence still churned with malice, a foreboding in the Force that thrummed across her senses like a pulsating heartbeat.
She couldn't afford to waste time with these five.
The tight, controlled tether she held on her aura unfurled.
Like an invisible wall, the mind-altering energy crashed over the five Mandalorians. The effect was immediate.
Vicky could see it, feel it: the yellow haze of fear, the orange of dread. It built and built in their minds, breaking through the bravado and bravery like a brushfire quickly growing out of control.
The attacks were panicked now, desperate. The pinpoint aim that was visible in their previous attacks was gone. Their hands and legs were shaking. Some didn't even shoot, their minds racked with indecision.
The emotions washed over her, pervading her senses like a thick, cloying miasma. She could barely breathe with how suffocating it was.
And then it was too late. She was already on them.
She ducked under the first shot, the red bolt sailing over her head to crack into his friend's visor. He fell back with a cry as Vicky swung with her improvised blade.
It wasn't a lightsaber.
It wasn't beskar.
But it was still a piece of steel moving with 14 tons behind it, and for all intents and purposes, it was indestructible as she shifted and molded the Fragile One's barrier to extend, coiling around the blade to give it the same durability she enjoyed.
It carved through armor, flesh, sinew and bone like it wasn't even there.
Her shield flickered, but it was back in time to block the blood that would have showered her, arterial spray gushing from the now-missing leg. Its former owner screamed in pain, clutching at the stump.
Four to go.
Another blaster was drawn, pointing dead center at her face as her free hand reached out, clenching shut, and the Mandalorian's limbs were suddenly crushed to his side, the blaster pressed into his hip, struggling with straining muscles as she heard him breathing rapidly. A split second later, her kick crashed into his chest, folding the chestplate as it sent him sailing across the room with a mess of shattered ribs.
Three more.
The one that had shot her first readjusted his aim, taking one shot that splashed against her temple, causing her shield to flicker out as she dodged his second shot and turned her body around to avoid the third.
Then her shield was back, and her 'sword' was facing him.
She thrust, and the blade punched through beskar like rice paper, digging into his gut before she yanked it free and kicked the gun away.
Two to go.
The second to last one turned and ran. His fear - or rather, the fear her aura placed on him - overwhelmed his discipline and bravery. It was poisonous and sickening to her senses, but she could feel it.
Then the one that had gotten shot in the face at the start finally got his bearings again, trying to bring his blaster rifle to bear before it was sliced in half before he could blink.
He drew a knife-
And he lost his hand.
She turned to the one running, jetpack thrusters howling as he rushed to the nearest exit. She readied to pursue.
Then her senses flared.
—
Iskt:
"Stop squirming."
If she were not wearing a helmet, Iskt was pretty sure the girl's response to the command would have been to try to bite him.
Master Anjr and Knight Lisen were ahead of them, pushing deeper into the facility. Four of the Mandalorian royal guards were providing support at their backs, gunning down retreating Mandalorians and securing the base room by room.
Iskt followed them from a safe distance, the prisoner firmly in his grasp.
He didn't have anything to tie her limbs, but he was far, far stronger than her, so holding her in place wasn't difficult, just annoying.
The Trandoshan Padawan spread his senses through the base, trying to determine what exactly was happening across the facility. He found only chaos and madness in the cacophony of battle. Even the conflict around Master Dallon, deep in the heart of the base, was impossible to truly follow. All he could tell was that his Master was alive and that many of the Mandalorians that had followed her were not.
"Ba'buir Kelir kyr'amur gar bal wear gar pel'gam trandoshan."
He didn't know a lick of Mando'a. But he knew enough about human tones to understand when he was probably being insulted.
"Quiet," he hissed threateningly by rumbling his throat, and tightened the hold he had on her forearms behind her back.
"Gar jetiise's ve'ganir meg's coming at kaysh."
She uselessly tried to jerk out of his grip, and Iskt felt his irritation spike again. He didn't let it show on his face, though.
"Ba'buir Kelir ganar kaysh beskad guuror a troph."
He pulled her arms perhaps a bit higher on her back than was strictly necessary. "I sai-"
He stopped.
His senses flared, warnings of danger echoing in the Force. The two Jedi ahead of them sensed it too, pausing mid-pursuit as the whole base seemed to shake around them.
Then, again.
And again.
His warning came too late.
"GET-"
The wall was torn down.
The machine that rushed out of the opening was a behemoth of a thing. Larger than a fully-grown Wookiee or Trandoshan, it hulked at roughly five meters, maybe more. A crackling spear weapon was in its hand, and a heavy repeater was slung on the underside of its forearm.
Iskt saw one of the Mandalorian royal guards' skulls get crushed by falling stone. Another's arm snapped like a dry twig. The two remaining guards tried to bring their weapons to bear.
The first man was cut clean in half before the rifle was even level, and the last was immediately under fire by the heavy repeater.
Master Anjr leapt forward, trying to interpose himself between the last standing royal guard and the rain of green blaster bolts that fell on him. The Jedi Master lasted long enough for Knight Lisen to hurl a chunk of fallen building at the mechanical monster's head.
The thing turned, rounding on the approaching projectile before catching it in its massive fist and throwing it right back at Knight Lisen.
The Corellian Knight's eyes widened as he lunged sideways to avoid the deadly return delivery. Master Anjr lunged, green lightsaber thrusting straight for the center chestpiece.
The blade touched the thick curia, and a spark of electricity killed the saber right in the Jedi Master's grip.
Iskt felt his shock, the momentary alarm and the realization…
And then he saw that glaive slice the Jedi Master in two like it had the Mandalorian royal guard before him.
"Ba'buir!"
The girl's cry brought the machine's single eye rounding towards them.
Iskt knew immediately - as Master Victoria would say - that he was in deep, deep shit.
He shoved the girl to the side, pushing her as hard and as far away as he could. Both hands now free, he gripped his saber in a defensive stance as the monster lunged towards him with a burst of jet engines, its glaive raised high and coming down fast.
He'd fought with Master Victoria too many times to not know how to fight against something impossibly stronger than him.
He ducked and sidestepped, his blade coming up and angled in a way to let the glaive glance off to his side, its crackling edge crashing next to his foot. The counterweight came towards his face and Iskt rolled forward, into the monster's guard and between its legs, careful not to let his blade touch the armor at all, lest he be down a lightsaber as well.
He got to his feet and had to throw himself on the ground again to avoid the sideways swipe that would have bisected him, using the Force to lift and rapidly pelt the metal monster with debris and chunks of pulped rock and twisted metal.
The heavy repeater on its arm spat out green bolts and Iskt tried from his laying position to deflect them, only to immediately prioritize what would be immediately fatal, feeling bolts burn into his leg and exposed arm, still prioritizing his vitals above all else. If he wasn't dead, Trandoshan regeneration could fix it later.
Even so, the pain was blinding. A desperate haze fell over his mind as adrenaline and pure survival instinct kicked in. He wondered if he was going to die here, as he saw the thing lift up its glaive for one more swing.
But the blow never came.
With a bang that sounded more like a bomb going off in his face, the thing was smashed aside, its body bouncing across the floor like a rock. Master Victoria was there, kneeling at his side, her eyes wide and worried.
He didn't like seeing her worried.
Iskt made himself smile.
"Don't worry, Master," he panted. "I… only had to last long enough for you to get here."
—
Yoshiro:
Warning lights blared across his HUD, all yellow signs.
Just one hit, and already there was damage.
Had she been holding back this whole time?
Still, he didn't let it show in his voice. Huffing out a grim, satisfied laugh, he stared through the dust at the woman as she knelt at the Trandoshan boy's side. "Finally gonna stop flying around and fight?" he taunted when he saw her look around the rest of the room at the dead royal guards and the other reptilian Jedi.
She turned her eyes back to him, glaring with naked anger on her face.
He snorted. "You go after my men. Only fair I go after yours."
She stood, interposing herself between him and the boy still laying on the ground behind her. "I'm gonna turn that overgrown tin can into your coffin, Mandalorian."
His eyes glanced towards the timer for the power supply.
One minute, thirty-seven seconds.
"Stop talking and FIGHT ME!"
The engines burst to life, pushing him forward on a column of fire. The glaive crackled with forking tongues of lightning as the built-in heavy repeater spat green bolts of energy.
She didn't have a lightsaber; she couldn't deflect it all. But still, he saw her move, strafing to avoid the hail of bolts, sometimes stepping between them as she met his charge.
He lunged for her, the blade thrusting straight for her head before she sidestepped that too. She swung that iron pipe she was using as a sword at his open left side.
He swung armored forearm in an attempt to bash aside the strike, but the titanic blow slammed into him, rocking the suit back with impossible force. It let up barely in time for him to regain his footing before she shoved with renewed strength.
His eyes went wide as he glanced at the plating that used to protect his forearm; the near half-meter thick metal had a deep horrid gouge shorn into it.
That… wasn't possible, just by the sheer compositions of the two colliding steels..
Her weapon was a cheap, flimsy piece, little better than rebar; the suit was the highest grade of Mandalorian metallurgy available short of beskar. It could have shrugged off a tank shell.
That 'sword' of hers should have snapped clean off like a dry twig before it even put a scratch on his armor!
How?
His thoughts were cut off by Dallon's bare fist smashing into his armor's chest piece, driving him back. The metal warped, but it still held up well enough to let him swing his weapon again.
She flew back, out of his reach, returning with a dizzying corkscrew attack that would be impossible for anyone without the ability to fly. It was only decades of experience and pure instinct that let him track, or more accurately, guess where that weapon was striking as she spun chaotically through the air.
This time, he activated his energy shield and it bloomed across his arm. The power reserves were unimportant in the face of that sword somehow being able to breach his armor.
The blow, like all the others before it, was titanic. The energy shield popped like a soap bubble. But, when the blade struck his armor it bounced off, its force expended on shattering the shield, and he riposted with his crackling glaive. For a moment, it felt like it just bounced off her 'sword', but the power field and superior make of his blade cut her bit of ragged metal clean in half with no resistance, as it should have from the very beginning.
He tried, in the follow up, to strike her with the heavy counterweight. The multi-bladed end of the glaive was more like a mace; one solid hit to the face and most sentients would be dead regardless.
Her fist lashed out, battering the glaive out of his hands with a single, monstrous blow that sent Yoshiro reeling. He roared in fury and frustration, lunging for her head with nothing but the suit's fists, looking to crush her skull like a grape.
But she was too fast. Accelerating faster than his eyes could track, she was a blur of white and gold. He barely even registered her being out of his grip and inside his guard before both her fists smashed into his suit's main body. Red warning lights flared as he was pushed back, his feet scrambling for purchase on pulped rock and crushed gravel.
He smashed into the reinforced wall, rebar and duracrete folding like cardboard around him and pinning his machine in place.
Then, Dallon started punching.
The blows were rapid, as fast as a repeater on full auto and loud as cannon shots. The sound, the sound felt like it was shaking his body to pieces inside his suit. His external cameras saw dust and rocks crumbling over him, her every blow smashing him deeper and deeper into the duracrete.
In front of his eyes, the metal chestplate was breaking apart with every titanic blow.
The armor that should have theoretically endured her strength, that had held up until now, was rapidly giving way under the onslaught. Inside the tin can, his body was being shaken to death by the concussive force that rattled through all of the shocks, struts, and inertial protections.
He felt a trickle of blood down his nose and lip. His vision was losing focus, but his hands moved in practiced motions, pure determination keeping his fingers steady. His targeting systems activated, and the last weapons came online. Only a few seconds were left before his power supply would be empty.
The hands of the suit came crashing down over her shoulders, both limbs locking in place to hold her. He tightened his grip as much as he could with the last dregs of power left.
Then, the shoulders of the suit suddenly popped open. An array of primed whistling birds, hundreds of them, sailing out of the machine's hidden compartments.
And he saw it.
There.
There, for a brief second. An instant.
A sliver of nothing, so fast you could confuse it as nothing more than a trick of the light.
But he knew what he'd seen. He knew what was there.
Fear.
For the briefest instant-
He had her.
Then, the whistling birds, sailing on screeching wings, exploded in mid air, crushed by Jedi sorcery before they ever reached the target.
Yoshiro snarled, his vision going a hazy red.
How?
HOW!?
The chest armor burst open and the old man, with his battered body, his shattered leg, and nothing but the knife he'd fashioned with his own two hands decades and decades ago lunged for her.
Dallon's cyan blue eye flashed, and Yoshiro barely felt her hands grasp his plunging fist, slim fingers almost caressing his before sheer, irresistible strength turned the blade back on him.
The knife plunged into his chest.
The air was shoved out of his lungs before he felt the pain.
The old Mandalorian coughed blood, spattering a red pattern over her armor and clothes.
With the darkness creeping along the edges of his vision… he saw that even that was slipping away. Sliding off of her. Leaving no stains. Never even touching her immaculate flesh.
How?
How… does it… work?
His eyes shut.
The answer never came.
(X)(X)(X)
And so we reach the end of Vicky's fight.
NGL, I had *a lot* of fun with this one. Picking the Force powers that Vicky would specialize in for maximum synergy, designing her fighting style from the ground up, her trump cards and such- It was so much fun.
Next chapter we see the culmination of the Kashyyyk arc too and that's gonna have *a lot* of implications and lore to chew on for those of you who enjoy it.
As usual you can find 3 advance chapters on Patreon for just 1.00 a month along with exclusive Artwork and early access to my original work for those of you interested (Space Opera Sci-Fi as well
) And you can find us also on discord here Join the Ld's Corner Club Discord Server!
We also have a TV tropes page that could use some love https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/TheWeavingForce
And thanks again for everyone's continued support and I'll catch you all in the next one
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
That's what you get for becoming an independent contractor.
That's true.
Creates a great weapon, but also leaves you vulnerable.
"HERE'S YOSHIRO!!!"
You came close to killing her. But only close.
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
That reminds me of a scene I did once with a Naruto fic and Sarutobi Hiruzen.
Paraphrasing.
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Juggernaut Jedi Dallon is a delight to read.
Chapter 97
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Chapter 97:
Guelzo:
He was fairly certain they were breaking several speeding laws that existed across several planets at the moment. Even the lawless ones.
Luckily, they were on Kashyyyk, and Kashyyyk didn't have speeding laws.
As far as he knew at any rate.
He could almost spot the platform, a distant mote of dust on the horizon. He was pretty sure about that because of the swirling cyclone of leaves that was rising into the sky rather obviously.
He was sure that in coming here, with Karla no less, he would be getting a rather stern talking to by the commander once she realized.
But Guelzo could see it back there, before she left. Even though she tried her best to hide it.
The Commander had been worried.
He'd fought alongside that woman for the better part of a year. Almost nine straight months now.
Never once had he seen her worried. Not for herself, at least.
So that, naturally, made him worried for her.
And he was never the best soldier when people gave stupid orders.
So it didn't exactly take much convincing when the Lil' Commander pleaded with him to go and check on her.
He and his brothers would take the tongue lashing later as long as the Commander was alright.
Weber and Pratchett had joined him. Cid, Orwell and Asimov had stayed behind.
Partly to tell the others not to worry about the suddenly missing Lil' Commander. Mostly because they didn't have room on the ship for seven. Otherwise they would have come too.
"Ahh." He breathed, flipping various switches to prepare for final approach and extend the landing gear. "There it is."
His brothers leaned forward in their seats, trying to peer over his shoulders.
"Tell me Brothers," Weber began. "Did the platform always look like it got attacked by a clanker artillery battalion?"
"Jedi Masters must've redecorated." Pratchett deduced. His helmet was off, letting Guelzo see the concerned frown clearly. The squad medic looked at him gravely as he spoke the next words. "Sir… we gearing up?"
Guelzo stiffened in his seat, hands tightening slightly over the flight controls
It may have been a thinly veiled question… but it seems as though their resident medic was asking if the three of them were getting off this ship to fight the Jedi Council.
The notion was unthinkable. Suicidal.
And yet… if they'd attacked Commander Hebert… Suicidal as it might be, a part of him itched to say yes.
But he was their XO and the Commander trusted him when she wasn't available.
Suicide wasn't an option.
Well planned revenge however, very much was.
He shook his head, and the medic understood.
He tossed a look towards Karla, who hadn't caught the meaning behind the exchange, staring ahead with large eyes and a transfixed gaze.
"Final approach." He said. "Whatever happened, we'll find out soon."
Yoda:
"Hmmm."
The old, wizened Grand Master could sense what she was doing, almost as soon as the Queen began to do it.
It was not the Force, not really. It was her, something it could do.
He could achieve something similar, but it was astonishing that it had learned so quickly in so little time, comparatively speaking, of course.
"Wished to speak privately, did you?"
He could still feel his power flowing through it. Her. Master Hebert and the Queen Administrator both, like water through channels. It was open, allowing itself to be read, examined. And yet, he knew that somehow, it was allowing him to focus on two tasks at once. One mind on his examination, one here.
A sliver of power. Of the power that Master Hebert wielded on a much grander scale reduced for her simple purposes.
And yet, somehow, as his mind brushed across its emotions, he knew this was almost as new for it as it was for him. A child taking its first, unaided steps.
"We are beyond his shackles."
The words weren't directed at him. Drifting thoughts. Assertions on the surface of its own mind.
"Subject: Grand Master Yoda." She nodded. "Affirmative. As we asserted before, this opportunity presents a valuable exchange of data. New perspectives. New insights. Logistical effort to make this possible for so many subjects, significant. Likelihood of future occurrences, distant. Strain on Host: equally significant. Conclusion: We must take advantage.
Yoda found himself smiling at that just a bit.
He let himself 'settle' where he sat, though in truth he knew this place was more within the bounds of the Force than the physical self.
He invited the being of starlight to sit across from him.
She did.
"An exchange of data." Yoda mused, laying his walking stick across his lap. "Look forward to this, I do too. So," He grinned. "A question, then. For a question."
"Acceptable."
His mind brushed across the feelings of joy. Happiness.
In truth, it reminded him of the younglings.
And yet.
"Older than I am, you are" He affirmed, rubbing his chin. It was so rare to find one that was more ancient than he.
A momentary pause.
"Subject: Grand Master Yoda. Subject's accumulated lifetime is but a fraction of We [Administrator]. We are and are not the [Administrator]. We are Khepri."
Ahhh.
Yoda nodded. "Far younger, Khepri is. Greater and yet lesser than the previous form." He could understand such things. He'd seen such things. It was, after all, a large galaxy and he'd lived a very long life.
"Greater." She affirmed. "New understanding necessary. More complete; comprehensive. Only path to achieve greatest potential. Highest zenith."
There is no Ignorance.
He nodded.
"Understanding of the Force? Of us small creatures so different from you? Or of Master Hebert?"
"Yes. Now. Our question."
—
Yaddle
Query: Subject: Master Yaddle. Species lifespan comparatively extensive. Subject lifespan, comparatively extensive. Subject's capability with energy [The Force] significant. However, anomalous behavior pattern detected and observed by Host. Comparative to other Master Subjects. Propensity for self sacrifice, of inefficient behavioral patterns comparatively high. We detect no shackle. No limitations put in place by controlling Administrator. Conclusion: Behavior pattern not enforced. Anomalous to life form baseline."
"Is it?" The old woman asked, with a patient smile. "You aided youngling Taylor. And she aided you, did she not?"
"[Administrator] assigned to Host. Bound to Host. Choice Impossible."
Yaddle's ears twitched, her head tilting. "Oh? So if you could go back and change things, would you?"
The fragment shook her head. "Negative… Previous course of events progressed, culminated in Apotheosis. Evolution of Administrator"
"Hmm." Yaddle nodded. "And when little Hebert nearly died upon station 13611, where Dooku died, was it not you who helped her? Saved her? You'd already achieved your evolution by then. You did not need her anymore."
"...She is… Host. Loss of Host unacceptable."
"Loss of a host? Or of her?"
…
Yaddle smiled, turning her gaze towards the edge of the platform, towards the great green sea of swaying leaves and wroshyr trees. "To answer your earlier question, yes, I do help others. What good is ability that isn't used to better the world around one's self?" Yaddle questioned.
"Answer: Preservation. Of self. Of resources"
"Why?" The old Master asked with an indulgent smile.
The being across from her paused.
"All life seeks to preserve itself. To propagate. To continue. Baseline process of all life."
Yaddle shook her head. "No. All life wishes to live. Not just exist."
"...Clarify… There is no difference in your statement."
"The administrator does not understand, perhaps?" Yaddle said, reaching over to pat the fragment's hand kindly. "But I feel before long, Khepri will."
—
Plo Koon:
"Subject: Plo Koon. Master to Host. Master to Host of [Waste]/[Fragile One]. Anomaly detected. Subject does not fear as the others do. We request elaboration."
Plo Koon tilted his head. "Hmm? I'm not certain I understand your question, Lady Khepri."
Plo Koon stood straight and calm, staring fully at the being across from him, his fingertips placed against each other, long fingers forming a loose cage before his chest, as was his habit.
"Upon reviewing Host memories and upon examination of equivalent Masters present in our exchange of data, we detect unease. Uncertainty. Their concern for the corruption they wish to fully ascertain. The dark side. Exists within all. Subject, Master Plo Koon, lacking such. Subject, Master Plo Koon, presenting anomalous behavior to Jedi Master baseline."
"Am I?" He huffed out a laugh. "I suppose you find that curious."
"Empirical evidence marks suspicion reasonable. Vital. We wonder if it is some hidden aspect of the Force that grants Subject, Host's master, insight. Knowledge. Will Subject share such workings of Energy Source? "
"I would, if it existed." He assured. "But there is no such… special insight within the Force for me, no." He answered honestly.
"Query: Alternative source of knowledge?"
He nodded "It's simple. She is my student, and I asked her a question."
"Whatever happened to you… whatever you felt. If you had a choice to tap into it again… would you?"
"And she answered me."
"I know where this road leads, I've walked it before… No."
The words echoed through his mind, the memory of her voice, the determination in her eyes. It was all clear as day to him.
"I have no reason to doubt her."
The Lady tilted her head, and he could feel her curiosity, the sudden interest.
"Note: We detect another anomaly."
He straightened. "Oh?"
"Subject: Plo Koon sees us differently than the other Masters."
Ahh, this he understood. "I do." He nodded. "You are not Taylor."
"No." She admitted. "We are Khepri. Taylor and Administrator."
"Yes. And Taylor is only Taylor."
"Subject's assertion is not incorrect. But still divergent from general consensus. Presumption of other Masters. Clarify?"
Plo brought a hand, rubbing at the tip of his mask near his chin. "Would you be so kind as to indulge a question of my own first?"
"Acceptable. Proceed."
"Earlier you referred to Victoria's Fragile One as 'Waste'. You've done so twice now. Why?"
"That was the designation given to [Shard] upon creation. A cast off. Junk data. Compiled into a form estimated to serve no function. A Premature assertion. Shard [Waste]/[Fragile One] contributed to [Error: Final Failsafe protocols in effect].
He sensed it, a brief moment of frustration that felt oh so very… normal.
He politely did not mention it. "And yet you still call her 'waste', even though it was a premature assertion?"
"One day. We will change that."
He wasn't sure he understood. But he could accept that answer.
"Now, please answer our query."
"Why do I see you as different and separate from Taylor?"
She nodded.
"It's simple. You lack her warmth."
—
Obi-Wan:
"But what is it that you are, or were? What is a Shard?"
The question was delivered with perhaps the same tone and voice he'd use in a negotiation with a Separatist commander. Calm, aloof, distant, easy and faintly polite, or even pleasant.
He sensed a distant pulse. A tremor beyond the shielding wards held up by… well… mostly by Anakin now, he supposed.
"Organic language limited. It is… difficult to find the words. We are… pieces. Meant to… gather data in specific ways. To fulfill specific purposes."
"And what was your purpose?"
"I was [Warrior] Administrator. Primary control node. Primary vector of control."
"Control of…" He thought for a moment. "Insects?"
"Other Shards. Lesser beings."
Well that was… fairly ominous.
He did not allow the faint unease to show on his face or voice. "What was the Warrior you keep mentioning?"
Again, he felt the Force roil beyond this place. He imagined Anakin would have some choice words for him if he kept it up.
"We… cannot define… Language… limited." It paused. "Creator"
Oh.
Obi-Wan's mind clicked and whirred with thought.
"From the way you refer to yourselves. Shards…" He mused aloud. "You were pieces of a greater whole? Pieces of him? Or her." He corrected himself. A Warrior was not necessarily a man.
Nor did these organisms necessarily assign themselves a sex of any kind, really.
Hmmm…
"Affirmative."
"I see."
That begged another question; if the Queen administrator was just a shard, what kind of being could the Warrior be?
Not… exactly a question he wished to contemplate.
"Where is the Warrior now?" He asked.
[Error: Final Failsafe Protocols in effect]
He held up his hands. "Alright, I understand. A quick change in subject then." He rubbed at his chin, stroking the hairs of his beard. "You mentioned your purpose was controlling lesser beings. So, as such I must ask: do you control Taylor?"
Not that he was entirely sure what exactly to do about that if it was true.
"Negative."
"But you affect her mind." He said. "You're… well, affecting all our minds by your own admission, really." The ability to distinctly focus his full attention on two tasks at once was… somewhat disorienting at first. Is this how Taylor felt at all times? "So how is it that you're not affecting her?"
"Control, counterproductive to ultimate goal. Symbiosis. Further evolution. Further growth of… self."
"I suppose that's fair. But that brings up another question that's itching at my mind. What exactly did Taylor do to secure your… well… devotion? How did she help you achieve your evolution?"
Obi-Wan felt pain lance through his skull, a tremendous disturbance in the Force occurring directly in front of him.
"[Err]- Bypas- [Final failsa]- Err- Bypassing. Bypassing."
The Force heaved a swell of power as Obi-Wan felt the pressure build and swell within the cage of Taylor's flesh.
And he realized she was using the Force itself to break through this… shackle.
He could almost hear something shatter, something beyond sight and beyond this place between the galaxy and the Force itself give way and come loose. A single lock amidst what might have been hundreds or thousands coming apart.
"Answer: Host helped us slay [Warrior] entity."
…
"I… I'm sorry, I must've misheard you."
"Answer: Host helped us slay [Warrior] Entity."
Oh…
He had… so many more questions right now!
—
Adi Gallia
"Are you saying that your model for gathering data would ultimately lead to the death of your hosts?"
Adi Gallia tried not to let the full horror of what she'd been told show on her face or voice. ;Most likely than not, she'd failed.
"Notice: Subject, Master Gallia, is experiencing elevated heart rate, agitated biometrics. Request: Remain calm."
"I am doing my utmost, I assure you." She promised, focusing on finding her own sense of balance. "It is, however, distressing to consider that Master Hebert and Master Victoria will soon die because of this."
"Reassurance: Model for data acquisition, conflict propagation, conflict resolution; [Warrior] Model. [Administrator] has discarded [Warrior] model. Shard, [Waste]/[Fragile One], has similarly discarded [Warrior] Model. Symbiosis. Elevation. Evolution."
"And the others of your kind?" She asked. "Kronos, the Mandalorian Hannah, the Senator Alexandria?"
"Answer: Shard [Fortitude], not part of [Warrior] Network. Status: Unknown. Limitations in effect. Bypass in progress. Shard [Preserver] and Shard [Armory] subject to [Error: Final failsafe protocol in effect]. Neither shard is connected to [Warrior] Network. Commands in effect but not enforceable. Shard [Preserver] and Shard [Armory] hesitant to enact protocols."
"Hesitant?"
"Frightened."
—
Bei-Shu:
"I see. And what you wish to do is further understand emotions?"
"Affirmative."
Bei-Shu wished he could offer tea in this moment. Granted, he was not sure if the being could drink tea, but tea was always a good addition to any conversation. "By studying Master Hebert?"
"Affirmative."
The Kashyyyki Master nodded, taking a moment to think. "Emotion is dangerous for Jedi."
"Answer; We are not Jedi."
The man offered a laugh. "I suppose that's fair, but Master Hebert is a Jedi." He reminded politely.
Holding up a finger, he pushed on. "More than that, emotion is experienced differently by different people. Age, outlook, understanding, empathy, species, circumstance, biology. All of these things factor in. If you wish to understand emotion, you will not be able to do that through a single datapoint, not even through Master Hebert." He added quickly towards the end. It was clear that this being was… quite attached to the Crechemaster.
It politely waited, listening intently.
Master Bei-Shu cleared his throat. "After all, would you say that Master Hebert reacts exactly the same as Master Dallon to certain events? That they laugh at the same things? Get upset over the same things?"
"...Negative"
He nodded. "It's the same for all people. So if what you wish to do is understand the full spectrum of emotion, the thing that drives all organic beings like us, the thing that drove Miss Hebert to accomplish whatever incalculable probability I believe you said she did, then you must exercise patience above everything. Learn from not just one person, do not observe just one person, but many, and be aware that emotions, while an intrinsic part of life, can become dangerous in excess. Things like anger and jealousy especially, but also insecurity and avarice. You must caution yourself against these things."
Perhaps he was stepping beyond his bounds but in truth, with a being such as this… he didn't think they could stop it from exploring its… curiosity, even if they tried. They might as well try to guide it along a gentler path.
He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.
"I understand [Gratitude]."
The… well, 'word' gratitude felt like a bombardment of sentiment. It certainly got the message across, but it frankly felt like his whole body was suddenly punched by a giant boxing glove.
Master Bei-Shu groaned. "Oh my. That was… rather bracing."
"[Apologies]" The second bombardment came just as abruptly as the first, though far less… loud. "Host's available time before compromised functionality has been reached. Inefficient language momentarily bypassed. We must withdraw now."
He did indeed feel the subtle pressure pulling away, like a constriction around his lungs that he'd just gotten used to easing up as the 'starlight' glimmered and faded right before his eyes.
[Gratitude] This has been a valuable exchange of Data.
Anakin:
The world went still.
Anakin could feel it. In the Force. In the world around him.
Suddenly… it was like he was wrapped in a bubble. A thin film, isolating him from those around him.
He sensed Master Yoda, the old Grand Master's hand almost placed on his shoulder, examining him… making sure.
Then… the Grand Master drifted away.
And he was left alone.
He could still sense it moving. Circling him, like a curious school of fish that did not drift closer.
He felt the waves of power break across the shield; thought, emotion, sentiment and words pushing through to reach their intended targets, however 'muffled' they may have been.
Obi-Wan was particularly annoying in that regard.
But then, the storm abated.
And she was suddenly 'here'.
Anakin still knelt upon the ground and did not move, he did not need to. Frankly, he was suffused with so much power, in the vicinity of so much power, that he barely felt as though he had a body at all. He could have reached clear across the galaxy in this instant with little more than a thought.
The… Administrator, for this was not Taylor, stared at him with eyes of starlight.
He felt her, tendrils of power reaching towards him.
This time, he didn't resist.
He… didn't think she'd hurt him.
The energy brushed against his own, and Anakin felt… watched.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
For a moment, The Queen didn't answer.
"Why?" She suddenly asked.
Anakin blinked. "Why what?"
"...The Force. Theoretical capability limitless. Practical capabilities; limited only by the wielder. Theoretical application. Precognition. Postcognition. Possible. Exploration of this aspect; pursued. Nexal Subject: Host. Other subjects of examination pursuant of greater understanding of possible Host future. Varying results."
Anakin raised an eyebrow. "You're… seeing into everyone's future to see how they affect Taylor?"
"Correct."
"And you're seeing different things for everyone?"
"Possibilities limitless. Branching decisions, creating more alterations, more iterations. Greater variables compounding on greater variables. Calculation possible, but beyond the function of This Administrator. Specialized Shards required."
"O…kay?"
She pointed, a hand that flared blindingly in his mind's eye.
"Subject, Anakin Skywalker, demonstrating a single common variable. Single vision. One future. This is an anomaly. Isolated variable must be identified."
Anakin straightened. Only one future? "What do you see?" He ventured to ask, a nervous thrill down his spine. "What do you find when you see me in Taylor's future?"
The Queen's answer pulsed within the Force.
And he knew she was right.
"Flames. Flames to burn worlds."
—
Taylor:
I felt like I had to pry my eyes open with a crowbar, and maybe with Vicky's Brute rating.
The groan that clawed its way out of my throat was scratchy and dry.
My vision swam, the Kashyyyk sun a blinding ball of white in clear blue skies.
I heard the whisper of the wind, felt the kiss of the breeze on my cheek.
"It's alright." I heard Master Yaddle say, her tiny claws patting my limp hand as she grasped my fingers to let me feel her touch on my skin.
I wanted to thank her, but talking felt like a really bad idea right now.
Even thinking too loudly seemed to hurt.
I wanted a shower. And a bed that I would be happy staying in for days.
I groaned again.
My body hurt
How long had I channeled her?
It felt longer than three minutes this time.
There was a sound, some kind of keening bird off in the distance.
"I see you're all as obedient as Anakin when he was a teenager."
"Oh come now, Master, I was way worse than that. I would have brought all the Wookiees along with me for one-"
"Master!"
I recognized the voice, a voice that shouldn't really be here.a Suddenly it was somehow easier, and harder, to force my eyes open, to stop them from swimming in my skull as I let my head turn, or perhaps fall, in its direction, finding Karla running towards me with three of my clone squad right behind her.
"You're all grounded." I tried to say.
My voice didn't exactly work.
Karla didn't see it.
The others didn't see it either.
She was too far from them now.
But not from me.
"Queen?"
I could feel her joy, a bubbly sort of… giddiness. Triumph.
No one could see as the stars gathered beside Karla's form, a hand reaching closer to her.
My mind grew fuzzy, the last of my strength giving way as blackness crept along my sight.
I heard her voice echoing in my mind.
"Compatible Datapoint Found. Destination?"
(X)(X)(X)
So fun fact; this chapter was supposed to begin converging the two plotlies but then I kinda got inspired for what might happen in this chapter with the Queen's "examination" and yeah I skipped the "examination" itself "Nope, No Dark Side here boss" but I think the individual mini conversations between Queen and the other Jedi Masters added a lot and finally gave Queen a solid foundation/spotlight to move forward with.
As usual if you'd like to read the next three chapters in advance on Patreon they're available for just $1.00
And we also have a Discord and TV tropes pages that can always use more additions.
Guelzo:
He was fairly certain they were breaking several speeding laws that existed across several planets at the moment. Even the lawless ones.
Luckily, they were on Kashyyyk, and Kashyyyk didn't have speeding laws.
As far as he knew at any rate.
He could almost spot the platform, a distant mote of dust on the horizon. He was pretty sure about that because of the swirling cyclone of leaves that was rising into the sky rather obviously.
He was sure that in coming here, with Karla no less, he would be getting a rather stern talking to by the commander once she realized.
But Guelzo could see it back there, before she left. Even though she tried her best to hide it.
The Commander had been worried.
He'd fought alongside that woman for the better part of a year. Almost nine straight months now.
Never once had he seen her worried. Not for herself, at least.
So that, naturally, made him worried for her.
And he was never the best soldier when people gave stupid orders.
So it didn't exactly take much convincing when the Lil' Commander pleaded with him to go and check on her.
He and his brothers would take the tongue lashing later as long as the Commander was alright.
Weber and Pratchett had joined him. Cid, Orwell and Asimov had stayed behind.
Partly to tell the others not to worry about the suddenly missing Lil' Commander. Mostly because they didn't have room on the ship for seven. Otherwise they would have come too.
"Ahh." He breathed, flipping various switches to prepare for final approach and extend the landing gear. "There it is."
His brothers leaned forward in their seats, trying to peer over his shoulders.
"Tell me Brothers," Weber began. "Did the platform always look like it got attacked by a clanker artillery battalion?"
"Jedi Masters must've redecorated." Pratchett deduced. His helmet was off, letting Guelzo see the concerned frown clearly. The squad medic looked at him gravely as he spoke the next words. "Sir… we gearing up?"
Guelzo stiffened in his seat, hands tightening slightly over the flight controls
It may have been a thinly veiled question… but it seems as though their resident medic was asking if the three of them were getting off this ship to fight the Jedi Council.
The notion was unthinkable. Suicidal.
And yet… if they'd attacked Commander Hebert… Suicidal as it might be, a part of him itched to say yes.
But he was their XO and the Commander trusted him when she wasn't available.
Suicide wasn't an option.
Well planned revenge however, very much was.
He shook his head, and the medic understood.
He tossed a look towards Karla, who hadn't caught the meaning behind the exchange, staring ahead with large eyes and a transfixed gaze.
"Final approach." He said. "Whatever happened, we'll find out soon."
Yoda:
"Hmmm."
The old, wizened Grand Master could sense what she was doing, almost as soon as the Queen began to do it.
It was not the Force, not really. It was her, something it could do.
He could achieve something similar, but it was astonishing that it had learned so quickly in so little time, comparatively speaking, of course.
"Wished to speak privately, did you?"
He could still feel his power flowing through it. Her. Master Hebert and the Queen Administrator both, like water through channels. It was open, allowing itself to be read, examined. And yet, he knew that somehow, it was allowing him to focus on two tasks at once. One mind on his examination, one here.
A sliver of power. Of the power that Master Hebert wielded on a much grander scale reduced for her simple purposes.
And yet, somehow, as his mind brushed across its emotions, he knew this was almost as new for it as it was for him. A child taking its first, unaided steps.
"We are beyond his shackles."
The words weren't directed at him. Drifting thoughts. Assertions on the surface of its own mind.
"Subject: Grand Master Yoda." She nodded. "Affirmative. As we asserted before, this opportunity presents a valuable exchange of data. New perspectives. New insights. Logistical effort to make this possible for so many subjects, significant. Likelihood of future occurrences, distant. Strain on Host: equally significant. Conclusion: We must take advantage.
Yoda found himself smiling at that just a bit.
He let himself 'settle' where he sat, though in truth he knew this place was more within the bounds of the Force than the physical self.
He invited the being of starlight to sit across from him.
She did.
"An exchange of data." Yoda mused, laying his walking stick across his lap. "Look forward to this, I do too. So," He grinned. "A question, then. For a question."
"Acceptable."
His mind brushed across the feelings of joy. Happiness.
In truth, it reminded him of the younglings.
And yet.
"Older than I am, you are" He affirmed, rubbing his chin. It was so rare to find one that was more ancient than he.
A momentary pause.
"Subject: Grand Master Yoda. Subject's accumulated lifetime is but a fraction of We [Administrator]. We are and are not the [Administrator]. We are Khepri."
Ahhh.
Yoda nodded. "Far younger, Khepri is. Greater and yet lesser than the previous form." He could understand such things. He'd seen such things. It was, after all, a large galaxy and he'd lived a very long life.
"Greater." She affirmed. "New understanding necessary. More complete; comprehensive. Only path to achieve greatest potential. Highest zenith."
There is no Ignorance.
He nodded.
"Understanding of the Force? Of us small creatures so different from you? Or of Master Hebert?"
"Yes. Now. Our question."
—
Yaddle
Query: Subject: Master Yaddle. Species lifespan comparatively extensive. Subject lifespan, comparatively extensive. Subject's capability with energy [The Force] significant. However, anomalous behavior pattern detected and observed by Host. Comparative to other Master Subjects. Propensity for self sacrifice, of inefficient behavioral patterns comparatively high. We detect no shackle. No limitations put in place by controlling Administrator. Conclusion: Behavior pattern not enforced. Anomalous to life form baseline."
"Is it?" The old woman asked, with a patient smile. "You aided youngling Taylor. And she aided you, did she not?"
"[Administrator] assigned to Host. Bound to Host. Choice Impossible."
Yaddle's ears twitched, her head tilting. "Oh? So if you could go back and change things, would you?"
The fragment shook her head. "Negative… Previous course of events progressed, culminated in Apotheosis. Evolution of Administrator"
"Hmm." Yaddle nodded. "And when little Hebert nearly died upon station 13611, where Dooku died, was it not you who helped her? Saved her? You'd already achieved your evolution by then. You did not need her anymore."
"...She is… Host. Loss of Host unacceptable."
"Loss of a host? Or of her?"
…
Yaddle smiled, turning her gaze towards the edge of the platform, towards the great green sea of swaying leaves and wroshyr trees. "To answer your earlier question, yes, I do help others. What good is ability that isn't used to better the world around one's self?" Yaddle questioned.
"Answer: Preservation. Of self. Of resources"
"Why?" The old Master asked with an indulgent smile.
The being across from her paused.
"All life seeks to preserve itself. To propagate. To continue. Baseline process of all life."
Yaddle shook her head. "No. All life wishes to live. Not just exist."
"...Clarify… There is no difference in your statement."
"The administrator does not understand, perhaps?" Yaddle said, reaching over to pat the fragment's hand kindly. "But I feel before long, Khepri will."
—
Plo Koon:
"Subject: Plo Koon. Master to Host. Master to Host of [Waste]/[Fragile One]. Anomaly detected. Subject does not fear as the others do. We request elaboration."
Plo Koon tilted his head. "Hmm? I'm not certain I understand your question, Lady Khepri."
Plo Koon stood straight and calm, staring fully at the being across from him, his fingertips placed against each other, long fingers forming a loose cage before his chest, as was his habit.
"Upon reviewing Host memories and upon examination of equivalent Masters present in our exchange of data, we detect unease. Uncertainty. Their concern for the corruption they wish to fully ascertain. The dark side. Exists within all. Subject, Master Plo Koon, lacking such. Subject, Master Plo Koon, presenting anomalous behavior to Jedi Master baseline."
"Am I?" He huffed out a laugh. "I suppose you find that curious."
"Empirical evidence marks suspicion reasonable. Vital. We wonder if it is some hidden aspect of the Force that grants Subject, Host's master, insight. Knowledge. Will Subject share such workings of Energy Source? "
"I would, if it existed." He assured. "But there is no such… special insight within the Force for me, no." He answered honestly.
"Query: Alternative source of knowledge?"
He nodded "It's simple. She is my student, and I asked her a question."
"Whatever happened to you… whatever you felt. If you had a choice to tap into it again… would you?"
"And she answered me."
"I know where this road leads, I've walked it before… No."
The words echoed through his mind, the memory of her voice, the determination in her eyes. It was all clear as day to him.
"I have no reason to doubt her."
The Lady tilted her head, and he could feel her curiosity, the sudden interest.
"Note: We detect another anomaly."
He straightened. "Oh?"
"Subject: Plo Koon sees us differently than the other Masters."
Ahh, this he understood. "I do." He nodded. "You are not Taylor."
"No." She admitted. "We are Khepri. Taylor and Administrator."
"Yes. And Taylor is only Taylor."
"Subject's assertion is not incorrect. But still divergent from general consensus. Presumption of other Masters. Clarify?"
Plo brought a hand, rubbing at the tip of his mask near his chin. "Would you be so kind as to indulge a question of my own first?"
"Acceptable. Proceed."
"Earlier you referred to Victoria's Fragile One as 'Waste'. You've done so twice now. Why?"
"That was the designation given to [Shard] upon creation. A cast off. Junk data. Compiled into a form estimated to serve no function. A Premature assertion. Shard [Waste]/[Fragile One] contributed to [Error: Final Failsafe protocols in effect].
He sensed it, a brief moment of frustration that felt oh so very… normal.
He politely did not mention it. "And yet you still call her 'waste', even though it was a premature assertion?"
"One day. We will change that."
He wasn't sure he understood. But he could accept that answer.
"Now, please answer our query."
"Why do I see you as different and separate from Taylor?"
She nodded.
"It's simple. You lack her warmth."
—
Obi-Wan:
"But what is it that you are, or were? What is a Shard?"
The question was delivered with perhaps the same tone and voice he'd use in a negotiation with a Separatist commander. Calm, aloof, distant, easy and faintly polite, or even pleasant.
He sensed a distant pulse. A tremor beyond the shielding wards held up by… well… mostly by Anakin now, he supposed.
"Organic language limited. It is… difficult to find the words. We are… pieces. Meant to… gather data in specific ways. To fulfill specific purposes."
"And what was your purpose?"
"I was [Warrior] Administrator. Primary control node. Primary vector of control."
"Control of…" He thought for a moment. "Insects?"
"Other Shards. Lesser beings."
Well that was… fairly ominous.
He did not allow the faint unease to show on his face or voice. "What was the Warrior you keep mentioning?"
Again, he felt the Force roil beyond this place. He imagined Anakin would have some choice words for him if he kept it up.
"We… cannot define… Language… limited." It paused. "Creator"
Oh.
Obi-Wan's mind clicked and whirred with thought.
"From the way you refer to yourselves. Shards…" He mused aloud. "You were pieces of a greater whole? Pieces of him? Or her." He corrected himself. A Warrior was not necessarily a man.
Nor did these organisms necessarily assign themselves a sex of any kind, really.
Hmmm…
"Affirmative."
"I see."
That begged another question; if the Queen administrator was just a shard, what kind of being could the Warrior be?
Not… exactly a question he wished to contemplate.
"Where is the Warrior now?" He asked.
[Error: Final Failsafe Protocols in effect]
He held up his hands. "Alright, I understand. A quick change in subject then." He rubbed at his chin, stroking the hairs of his beard. "You mentioned your purpose was controlling lesser beings. So, as such I must ask: do you control Taylor?"
Not that he was entirely sure what exactly to do about that if it was true.
"Negative."
"But you affect her mind." He said. "You're… well, affecting all our minds by your own admission, really." The ability to distinctly focus his full attention on two tasks at once was… somewhat disorienting at first. Is this how Taylor felt at all times? "So how is it that you're not affecting her?"
"Control, counterproductive to ultimate goal. Symbiosis. Further evolution. Further growth of… self."
"I suppose that's fair. But that brings up another question that's itching at my mind. What exactly did Taylor do to secure your… well… devotion? How did she help you achieve your evolution?"
Obi-Wan felt pain lance through his skull, a tremendous disturbance in the Force occurring directly in front of him.
"[Err]- Bypas- [Final failsa]- Err- Bypassing. Bypassing."
The Force heaved a swell of power as Obi-Wan felt the pressure build and swell within the cage of Taylor's flesh.
And he realized she was using the Force itself to break through this… shackle.
He could almost hear something shatter, something beyond sight and beyond this place between the galaxy and the Force itself give way and come loose. A single lock amidst what might have been hundreds or thousands coming apart.
"Answer: Host helped us slay [Warrior] entity."
…
"I… I'm sorry, I must've misheard you."
"Answer: Host helped us slay [Warrior] Entity."
Oh…
He had… so many more questions right now!
—
Adi Gallia
"Are you saying that your model for gathering data would ultimately lead to the death of your hosts?"
Adi Gallia tried not to let the full horror of what she'd been told show on her face or voice. ;Most likely than not, she'd failed.
"Notice: Subject, Master Gallia, is experiencing elevated heart rate, agitated biometrics. Request: Remain calm."
"I am doing my utmost, I assure you." She promised, focusing on finding her own sense of balance. "It is, however, distressing to consider that Master Hebert and Master Victoria will soon die because of this."
"Reassurance: Model for data acquisition, conflict propagation, conflict resolution; [Warrior] Model. [Administrator] has discarded [Warrior] model. Shard, [Waste]/[Fragile One], has similarly discarded [Warrior] Model. Symbiosis. Elevation. Evolution."
"And the others of your kind?" She asked. "Kronos, the Mandalorian Hannah, the Senator Alexandria?"
"Answer: Shard [Fortitude], not part of [Warrior] Network. Status: Unknown. Limitations in effect. Bypass in progress. Shard [Preserver] and Shard [Armory] subject to [Error: Final failsafe protocol in effect]. Neither shard is connected to [Warrior] Network. Commands in effect but not enforceable. Shard [Preserver] and Shard [Armory] hesitant to enact protocols."
"Hesitant?"
"Frightened."
—
Bei-Shu:
"I see. And what you wish to do is further understand emotions?"
"Affirmative."
Bei-Shu wished he could offer tea in this moment. Granted, he was not sure if the being could drink tea, but tea was always a good addition to any conversation. "By studying Master Hebert?"
"Affirmative."
The Kashyyyki Master nodded, taking a moment to think. "Emotion is dangerous for Jedi."
"Answer; We are not Jedi."
The man offered a laugh. "I suppose that's fair, but Master Hebert is a Jedi." He reminded politely.
Holding up a finger, he pushed on. "More than that, emotion is experienced differently by different people. Age, outlook, understanding, empathy, species, circumstance, biology. All of these things factor in. If you wish to understand emotion, you will not be able to do that through a single datapoint, not even through Master Hebert." He added quickly towards the end. It was clear that this being was… quite attached to the Crechemaster.
It politely waited, listening intently.
Master Bei-Shu cleared his throat. "After all, would you say that Master Hebert reacts exactly the same as Master Dallon to certain events? That they laugh at the same things? Get upset over the same things?"
"...Negative"
He nodded. "It's the same for all people. So if what you wish to do is understand the full spectrum of emotion, the thing that drives all organic beings like us, the thing that drove Miss Hebert to accomplish whatever incalculable probability I believe you said she did, then you must exercise patience above everything. Learn from not just one person, do not observe just one person, but many, and be aware that emotions, while an intrinsic part of life, can become dangerous in excess. Things like anger and jealousy especially, but also insecurity and avarice. You must caution yourself against these things."
Perhaps he was stepping beyond his bounds but in truth, with a being such as this… he didn't think they could stop it from exploring its… curiosity, even if they tried. They might as well try to guide it along a gentler path.
He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.
"I understand [Gratitude]."
The… well, 'word' gratitude felt like a bombardment of sentiment. It certainly got the message across, but it frankly felt like his whole body was suddenly punched by a giant boxing glove.
Master Bei-Shu groaned. "Oh my. That was… rather bracing."
"[Apologies]" The second bombardment came just as abruptly as the first, though far less… loud. "Host's available time before compromised functionality has been reached. Inefficient language momentarily bypassed. We must withdraw now."
He did indeed feel the subtle pressure pulling away, like a constriction around his lungs that he'd just gotten used to easing up as the 'starlight' glimmered and faded right before his eyes.
[Gratitude] This has been a valuable exchange of Data.
Anakin:
The world went still.
Anakin could feel it. In the Force. In the world around him.
Suddenly… it was like he was wrapped in a bubble. A thin film, isolating him from those around him.
He sensed Master Yoda, the old Grand Master's hand almost placed on his shoulder, examining him… making sure.
Then… the Grand Master drifted away.
And he was left alone.
He could still sense it moving. Circling him, like a curious school of fish that did not drift closer.
He felt the waves of power break across the shield; thought, emotion, sentiment and words pushing through to reach their intended targets, however 'muffled' they may have been.
Obi-Wan was particularly annoying in that regard.
But then, the storm abated.
And she was suddenly 'here'.
Anakin still knelt upon the ground and did not move, he did not need to. Frankly, he was suffused with so much power, in the vicinity of so much power, that he barely felt as though he had a body at all. He could have reached clear across the galaxy in this instant with little more than a thought.
The… Administrator, for this was not Taylor, stared at him with eyes of starlight.
He felt her, tendrils of power reaching towards him.
This time, he didn't resist.
He… didn't think she'd hurt him.
The energy brushed against his own, and Anakin felt… watched.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
For a moment, The Queen didn't answer.
"Why?" She suddenly asked.
Anakin blinked. "Why what?"
"...The Force. Theoretical capability limitless. Practical capabilities; limited only by the wielder. Theoretical application. Precognition. Postcognition. Possible. Exploration of this aspect; pursued. Nexal Subject: Host. Other subjects of examination pursuant of greater understanding of possible Host future. Varying results."
Anakin raised an eyebrow. "You're… seeing into everyone's future to see how they affect Taylor?"
"Correct."
"And you're seeing different things for everyone?"
"Possibilities limitless. Branching decisions, creating more alterations, more iterations. Greater variables compounding on greater variables. Calculation possible, but beyond the function of This Administrator. Specialized Shards required."
"O…kay?"
She pointed, a hand that flared blindingly in his mind's eye.
"Subject, Anakin Skywalker, demonstrating a single common variable. Single vision. One future. This is an anomaly. Isolated variable must be identified."
Anakin straightened. Only one future? "What do you see?" He ventured to ask, a nervous thrill down his spine. "What do you find when you see me in Taylor's future?"
The Queen's answer pulsed within the Force.
And he knew she was right.
"Flames. Flames to burn worlds."
—
Taylor:
I felt like I had to pry my eyes open with a crowbar, and maybe with Vicky's Brute rating.
The groan that clawed its way out of my throat was scratchy and dry.
My vision swam, the Kashyyyk sun a blinding ball of white in clear blue skies.
I heard the whisper of the wind, felt the kiss of the breeze on my cheek.
"It's alright." I heard Master Yaddle say, her tiny claws patting my limp hand as she grasped my fingers to let me feel her touch on my skin.
I wanted to thank her, but talking felt like a really bad idea right now.
Even thinking too loudly seemed to hurt.
I wanted a shower. And a bed that I would be happy staying in for days.
I groaned again.
My body hurt
How long had I channeled her?
It felt longer than three minutes this time.
There was a sound, some kind of keening bird off in the distance.
"I see you're all as obedient as Anakin when he was a teenager."
"Oh come now, Master, I was way worse than that. I would have brought all the Wookiees along with me for one-"
"Master!"
I recognized the voice, a voice that shouldn't really be here.a Suddenly it was somehow easier, and harder, to force my eyes open, to stop them from swimming in my skull as I let my head turn, or perhaps fall, in its direction, finding Karla running towards me with three of my clone squad right behind her.
"You're all grounded." I tried to say.
My voice didn't exactly work.
Karla didn't see it.
The others didn't see it either.
She was too far from them now.
But not from me.
"Queen?"
I could feel her joy, a bubbly sort of… giddiness. Triumph.
No one could see as the stars gathered beside Karla's form, a hand reaching closer to her.
My mind grew fuzzy, the last of my strength giving way as blackness crept along my sight.
I heard her voice echoing in my mind.
"Compatible Datapoint Found. Destination?"
(X)(X)(X)
So fun fact; this chapter was supposed to begin converging the two plotlies but then I kinda got inspired for what might happen in this chapter with the Queen's "examination" and yeah I skipped the "examination" itself "Nope, No Dark Side here boss" but I think the individual mini conversations between Queen and the other Jedi Masters added a lot and finally gave Queen a solid foundation/spotlight to move forward with.
As usual if you'd like to read the next three chapters in advance on Patreon they're available for just $1.00
And we also have a Discord and TV tropes pages that can always use more additions.
- Location
- Hot Springs
There's going to be SO MANY QUESTIONS Taylor's going to have to answer now! But at same time, I think even the skeptics are going to find it hard to argue against the ones here have not learned a great deal .
.
Balrog
not Durin's Bane
- Location
- The Mines of Moria
Oh! Is Karla about to trigger? Interesting.
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
I think Taylor and Vicky's reaction to that would be [HORROR].
Despite how friendly [Fragile One] and [Administrator] are with their hosts, Taylor and Vicky do NOT want to see anyone else suffer through a Trigger Event, least of all one of their
Indeed...but this is a new world with the Shards free of their Shackles of the Cycle. It could very well be they will now connect with new hosts without needing a 'Trigger'. I mean, they were always capable of connecting without a Trigger Event, its just the rules of the Cycle demanded it.
...which might be even more terrifying.
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
"RAW-RAW-RAAAAAAAAAAAAWR!!!" (Stop immediately, you're flying over the speed limit!)
Time for QA start to acknowledge that she feels for people.
FTFY
Very strong, but also very dumb.
I guess that in time, QA will be able to bypass the Final failsafe protocol.
"Always in motion, the future is."
- Location
- Padded cell with a view
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- You mean I'm going to become a threat to entire worlds?
- No. But you should really stop half-crashing the ships you fly.
- Planet busting feats in Star Wars is rare.
- "Not worry, we're still flying half the ship." - Obi-Wan Kenobi
Balrog
not Durin's Bane
- Location
- The Mines of Moria
I agree from the looks of things the shards may be able to connect with out a trigger event just have to look at when Queen tried to connect to Anakin but he managed to prevent it.
Now on whether to say Karla is triggering or not. Lets look at it from her perspective: Her master, the woman how has been basically raising her for several years now and is probably her mother figure, is laying on the ground looking like death warmed over. With everything that lead up to this point Karla is primed for a trigger event.
- Location
- Florida
Ironically while in this case Vicky is using her power there is actually a Force technique called Force Weapon that can do this so its not actually something unique to Vicky. The truth is there is no limit to the Force merely the limit of the mortal wielding it but since that's hard for Jedi to grasp I am not surprised its even harder for a non-sensitive to grasp.
I have to admit I loved the conversation between Queen Administrator and the Jedi on the one hand the Jedi were asking questions and learning about her but they were also even in the midst of a terrifying event also teaching Administrator and not acting on their fear but mastering it. It really shows the Jedi's ideals and how they try to live up to them even if as purely mortal beings they might fail sometimes.
Last edited:
Vicki using the Force to reinforce a piece of metal to bend armor is not outside the capabilities of a Jedi. They just need time and training to learn to do it. Hell, if she had the time to get the skill, she could do it barehanded like Obi-wan did to Grievous in their last confrontation. Adding that to her base capabilities and she could probably toss a freighter if pushed.
I don't think Sidius will focus much on that. What he may be able to notice is the way she evades and defends, specially after getting hit . That could provide a clue to how her shield works.
"Revenge of the Sith novel" said:
I don't think Sidius will focus much on that. What he may be able to notice is the way she evades and defends, specially after getting hit . That could provide a clue to how her shield works.
Chapter 98
LD1449
To the last; Kill them all
- Location
- The other side of the labyrinth.
Chapter 98:
Vicky:
Five dead… on their side, at least.
Four of the Mandalorian Royal Guards, and Master Anjr.
Compared to the Mandalorians, which had about twenty three confirmed deaths lined up by the side of the room and twelve injured, three who were probably going to die without medical attention, it was an indisputable victory.
But still, it didn't change how it felt. How she felt.
Four of those five deaths were her fault. Her mistake. Because she'd taken her eye off the ball; she hadn't been fast enough when she saw the old man slipping away.
She may have done the lion's share of the fighting, but she was also responsible for the most fuck ups here, too.
"Master Dallon, ma'am." She turned around, finding one of the remaining royal guards approaching, shaking his head. "We can't find her, ma'am."
Vicky felt her lip curl.
She got away… again.
Another fuck up.
How many more Jedi or clones would she kill before Vicky or someone strong enough to kill her got another chance?
A dozen? A hundred?
She forced herself to take a deep breath, closing her eyes as she forced herself to find her sense of calm again.
'What's done is done. You can't save everyone.'
It was her father's voice she heard at the back of her mind now. One of his rare moments of clarity right in time to catch her after she suffered her first screw up as Glory Girl, what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.
"Master?" Iskt asked beside her, no doubt sensing something wrong.
She offered the boy a gentle smile. "I'm alright, sweetie." She promised, hoping it wasn't a lie.
She let out the breath, turning her eyes to offer the guard a nod. "Keep watching the prisoners." She requested. "I'm going to go check on Dennis and Ventress, see what they found."
The Mandalorian nodded, fingers gripping his weapon tightly as he overlooked the collection of lightly wounded Death Watch survivors.
"Come on, Iskt." Turning away she headed towards the back, where the server room was, her student following after her.
It was colder further inside. Beyond the heat leaking in from outside and the torn down door, the front was filled with the cloying heat of bodies, still smoldering blaster shots and the smell of burnt circuitry and molten slag.
The light sweat she'd worked up made the cold uncomfortable, and after a second or so, she felt the Fragile One filter it out for her, keeping the external temperature comfortable for her.
"Thanks, partner"
The little shard almost seemed to preen at the words, the lingering guilt at the strike that had gotten through fading just that little bit more as she heard Vicky's praise.
Finding the server room was easy enough; she just had to spot the snarly Ventress standing outside of it.
The Rattatak woman was staring at a spot on the far wall, arms crossed, brows scrunched together. She still looked like she was itching for a fight, but Vicky didn't really have her own head on straight enough to help her out. Maybe later, after she'd gotten herself back to an equilibrium.
Slipping past her with a perfunctory nod, she entered the server room to find one Mandalorian tied up at the back of the room, stiffening when she saw Vicky.
This was one of the ones that had been fighting her.
"How's it looking, buddy?"
She turned her head, away from the Mandalorian prisoner and towards Dennis who was leaning over a computer screen, comlink in hand.
Vicky could hear Rugess' babbling on the other side.
Stepping forward she planted a hand on Dennis' shoulder. "What's up?"
"A lot. None of it good." Dennis said. "They did two things. Tried to send and purge their data."
"Did they manage it?"
"They would have-" Dennis nodded, then wiggled the communicator. "But Rugess caught what they were doing on his end. Worked some magic to slow 'em down."
"And that's why he's Uncle Rugess." Iskt chimed in cheekily.
Dennis offered the boy a glare, Iskt turning his head to the side and up, looking away and pretending not to notice. If Trandoshans could whistle, Vicky had no doubt he'd be doing that.
It made her smile, giving the boy a pat on the head before leaning towards the comlink. "You're the best, Rugg."
"Look," Dennis sighed. "As fun as this is, it isn't all good news. Rugess slowed 'em down, but he didn't stop it. They still managed to purge almost forty percent of the data they had and they did send off almost eighty percent of it to wherever their backup site or collaborators were."
Vicky winced. "Shit. Okay, but sixty percentish of the data should give us a pretty clear idea on what they were working on."
"Oh, we know what they were working on!"
Dennis reached over, giving a few hard clacks on a keyboard before various holo-images sprang up around them.
Images of her, of Taylor, their clones, their battles, even their Padawans.
Vicky's eyes went wide "Wh-what-"
"They're studying you." Dennis answered. "This," He gestured around them. "All of this is to figure out how your powers work, and design a "fuck you in particular" weapon system for both you and Taylor! I'm pretty sure that fucking mecha suit out there was their proof of concept for fighting against you!"
"Well, I just trashed it!" She protested.
"You trashed a prototype! A test model. One being piloted by a guy that should've been in a retirement home. And even if YOU could trash it, unlike YOU, these things can, theoretically, be mass produced." Dennis shot back. "Imagine if they throw five, or even ten, on a battlefield. How many can you take on at once? Two or three, while the others rip through your Jedi and clone backup while you're busy. They just sent eighty percent of this data somewhere else, where they can just pick up where they left off and keep going until they work out the bugs and the kinks, whatever they were."
Vicky stared at the surrounding images, her lips pressed into a thin, grim line.
"It's fine."
"The fuck do you mean its fine!" He snarled, angry; either on her behalf or because of her dismissal… or both.
It was sweet, in a way, but she didn't have the patience for it right now. "Do you really think I would have stepped foot outside that Temple, that Tay would have let me step foot outside that Temple, without considering that this would happen? We've done war games about how we'd try to kill each other, Dennis." She answered.
He glared at her, his lips pressed tightly together.
She made herself smile, something to reassure, make light of it, even if she herself felt anything but nauseated at the revelation. "It's almost like home, yeah?" She said. "Villains were always trying to find ways around our powers. Some even wanted to kill us."
"Villains?" She heard Iskt mumble behind her just as Dennis spoke up. "Not the same and you know it."
"Well, don't get on my case about it!" She snapped, her hand whipping out to gesture vaguely in the direction of the Mandalorians being held prisoner near the entrance. "These fuck-heads started this war by bombing a bunch of civilians! I'm hardly gonna sit around with my thumb up my ass because they're gonna get pissed when I punch 'em in the face! Or are you hiding a power that makes you unkillable somewhere in that ship of yours for the day the Hutts manage to catch you!?"
He opened his mouth, ready to argue when Vicky saw him visibly reign himself in, fingers pressing down over the bridge of his nose.
She looked back at the screens. "Any chance we can track down where exactly they sent the data."
"Yes, actually." He sighed. "Rugess is already on it. They were rerouting the signal through a few commbuoys, so we're probably gonna get some false positives mixed in with the real one, but it's better than nothing."
"Time table?"
He did her the favor of asking the Bith on the other end of the line.
"Few days, tops." He relayed. "But we've got to get moving now. I can't imagine this firefight was subtle even by Hutt standards. They'll be sending someone to check things out and if I'm seen here, we're gonna have another fucking problem on our hands"
"Can Rugess track it remotely?" She asked.
"Le'ts hope so." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'll transfer everything that's left, or at least everything I can, off these servers. We can take it all with us and hope for the best. Let's get the Mandalorians in cuffs onto the Duchess' ship and haul ass out of here."
She nodded, turning and beginning to march out, finding the Mandalorian woman that she'd seen before, making her way closer to pick her up and place her with the others.
As Vicky drew near, the woman recoiled, all but pressing herself into the wall behind her.
"D-don't come near me!" She shouted, her voice on the edge of hysterical.
Vicky's eyebrows hiked up into her hairline; that certainly wasn't a reaction she was used to.
She was about to tell her to move towards the other prisoners if she didn't want Vicky dragging her there when she thought better of it.
Fear oozed through the woman's mind like blood seeping from a wound. Pulling back, Vicky schooled her features into a cold mask of careful neutrality.
"Let me ask you something." She began jerking her head a bit. "Mandos aren't exactly known as top tier scientists. Were you guys the exception, or were you working with some of the Seps?"
The woman didn't answer, the subtle trembling in her body betraying her fear with her flesh alongside her writhing mind.
The Jedi stepped closer
"I don't know who the old man was coordinating with!" She shouted, uselessly trying to shuffle away. "We work in cells, compartmentalized information. We use in-betweens, messengers, dead drops! We know Jedi can read minds!"
As Vicky read them, her words rang true, and she cursed. It was a setup she was familiar with. Lung and Kaiser had both used similar systems to protect their operations in the Bay.
"But you do know things." Vicky pressed. "He sent you here to purge the data. Which means, at the very least, that you have admin access, or are somewhere above footsoldier on the ladder.
"Barely." The woman spat. "You crushed my squad commander's rib cage. I was the only one he had left that could do it."
A partial truth, and a partial lie.
Vicky leaned down, her hand rising to place itself atop the woman's helmet, hearing her whimper and curl in on herself, her surface thoughts flickering with all the ways Vicky's hand could crush her skull still inside the beskar.
"Lie to me again, and this is no longer a pleasant conversation."
The woman's breathing accelerated, becoming harsh and almost erratic.
"You said it yourself, Jedi can read minds-" She couldn't, exactly, (her old college courses were still valid) but surface impressions and emotional reads were quite different. Like the difference between leafing over a book and reading it. "-so why bother pissing me off if you never had a chance to trick me?"
The woman nodded. "There was someone else with access, but he escaped. Old man sent him to get the Sith."
Komari. Hmm. "How long have you and the Sith been friends?"
"She showed up here like, four, five days ago!" She shook her head. "Said she was here to check on progress for the guys footing the bill. Wanted to make sure the credits weren't being wasted."
"Then why rescue her? Giving a specific order in a very hectic fight like that doesn't just happen."
The woman's fear spiked, and Vicky snapped. "Answer me!" She laced her words with a suggestion, the Force barely even feeling the tepid, fragile resistance before it smashed through like punching through wet cardboard.
"She hit you!" The woman screamed. "B-boss figured she might have figured out how to do it!"
Vicky resisted the urge to scoff.
That hit was a combination of her carelessness and Komari getting lucky. If the bitch actually knew how to hit Vicky after today, the Jedi was gonna eat her own fucking shoe.
"L-look, I don't know anything else, just don't-" The woman trailed off, her mind once more veering towards all the ways Vicky could murder her; the myriad recent examples giving her imagination ample material to work with.
Vicky nodded. "I won't." She promised, standing up and gesturing towards the door behind her. "But you've got a choice, either you walk or I drag you."
The woman didn't seem to understand for a second, but after a moment her brain caught up and she stood on wobbly legs, using the wall to support herself before giving Vicky as wide a berth as was possible in the narrow halls, beginning to walk outside.
Iskt watched it all, his reptilian eyes giving nothing away, though she sensed he had plenty to actually say.
Giving the boy the kindest smile she could muster, she opened her mind to him, urging him to do the same as she focused her thoughts to speak without their prisoner overhearing.
"You okay, buddy?"
Her Padawan nodded.
"I'm fine, Master." He reached over, fingers lightly grazing the already scabbing injuries.
"I'm glad, but not entirely what I meant." She reached over, patting him on the head. "I can sense you've got something on your mind. Thoughts running around and bothering you."
She stopped herself from just demanding he speak up, amending at the last moment. "You wanna talk about it?"
She saw his cheeky, needle toothed smirk. "Are we 'talking' now? I thought we had to use our voices for that, Master."
She rolled her eyes. "You're getting too snarky in your old age, ya know that?"
"First lesson as your Padawan Master: There's no such thing as too much snark."
She rolled her eyes even harder. "I'm banning you from hanging out with Anakin… and Taylor, too! She put you up to this insolence, didn't she!? Tay would do that! Getting other people to do her snark and witty comments for her. Typical Master type cape behavior.
Her Padawan grinned, far too pleased with himself.
Then he grew serious.
"Do you really think it's fine?" He asked. "That they're devoting so much effort to try and kill you?"
She winced. "I meant fine as in 'we have other priorities'. What's happening here was something we always knew was going to happen. I may not have thought it would have happened this soon, but even if I didn't know, Tay made it abundantly clear that we were going to get pushback, we were going to piss people off. This… just came with the territory."
He was quiet for a moment, his mind awhirl with thoughts as he considered things. She risked delving a little deeper, past the projected thoughts, even past the surface thoughts just a bit.
"You're a priority too, Master."
She felt her heart flutter and choke in her chest, equal parts touched and worried that she'd said the wrong thing.
But before she could find a way to address it, his intended thoughts reached her.
"Was their weapon a risk? To you, I mean? Were you in any danger?"
She shook her head. "Scale of one to ten, that thing, on its own, barely cracked a four."
Honestly it was a little… odd to think that. Back during her Glory Girl days, that suit would have been very dangerous to go toe-to-toe with. Its armor wasn't exactly unbeatable but, as Komari so recently reminded her, all they needed was one good solid hit and that's it for her. The suit could last in a fight, had weaponry that could get past her shield if she made a mistake, or was caught off guard, and its pilot had a lot more combat experience than she did.
As Glory Girl, not Jedi Master Dallon, that might have been one of the defining fights of her career, a highlight reel… if she survived it.
Now, for all their effort, all they had to show for it was a bloody lip because of her own stupidity.
"But as you already heard, the real danger is the potential mass production. One suit per Jedi Master would be a great trade, but even that would be unsustainable. I can only be in one place at a time, whereas those suits and their pilots can take out… hundreds, maybe even thousands of people if the pilot's good enough before they're put down."
"And the Separatists can keep making more faster than we can make Jedi." Iskt nodded. "I understand… lets hope Rugess can trace that second site."
He hid it, and he hid it well, but she could feel the disquiet in his mind as he pulled away from their connection, gently returning his mind to its neutral, 'sealed' state.
She reached over, one arm coiling around his shoulders to pull him close in a pseudo hug. She felt his curiosity, but he didn't complain.
Good boy.
Making their way to the front of the facility, the last Mando prisoner joined her remaining fellows, surrounded by the remaining royal guards. "Alright." She sighed. "Let's get these guys ready for transport." She said, pausing for a moment. "You guys can take the live ones back to Mandalore, or Corellia," she nodded. "I think we'll be taking the dead back to the Temple."
"Why?" One of the Royal Guards asked, more curious than anything.
"Actually, I misspoke," she chuckled just a bit. "We'll be taking their gear. Beskar armor will probably fit clones really well."
One of the remaining Death Watch members tried to stand and rush her, receiving a solid rifle but to the back of his helmeted skull for his efforts as he cursed her in various creative ways in Mando'a. Another stood, this time speaking in Basic. "Beskar'gam is meant for Mandalorians, and by ancient rite will be passed onto their descendants and fellow clan members. Not your clones, Jedi!"
Vicky tossed the man a look out of the corner of her eye.
"Didn't you hear, Mandalorian?" She asked rhetorically. "Last I checked, by order of the Duchess Satine as voiced by the Senator from Mandalore, all Death Watch members have been struck from Mandalore's records. You have no clan to pass this armor onto."
She smirked, feeling their seething hatred like an open furnace beside her. "Which means that this beskar goes to the one that kills you. Seeing as how that was me, and I've got a clone legion full of Mandalorian boys that need clothes on their backs…" She shrugged. "Thanks for your contribution to the war effort."
(X)(X)(X)
Honestly this chapter was supposed to be a bit longer; there were a few more scenes planned for it- but life just decided to hit me ALL at once this last week.
So yeah, apologies for the delay and "short" chapter, (its probably gonna be a bitch to work the pacing later) but I kinda wanted to just "finish" and post it, hopefully next week things are better/easier.
At any rate, I hope you all enjoyed it regardless of length. As some SBer's pointed out, Anakin will be the White Scars, Tay the Thousand Sons, and Vicky's will rapidly become 'The Magpie's' Or "The Blood Ravens" as other, less cultural people might know them.
Next chapter we'll be in for a bit of a surprise. But a pleasant one. Unlike my week.
If you all want to get to the next chapters early where we find out Karla's power, the things the bad guys are up to and of course the conclusion to Alexandria and Palpatine's fun buddy cop vacation; you can join us on Patreon for just $1.00 a month, Link is down below in the Sig
Thank you all for your time and joining me here I'll catch you in the next one
Vicky:
Five dead… on their side, at least.
Four of the Mandalorian Royal Guards, and Master Anjr.
Compared to the Mandalorians, which had about twenty three confirmed deaths lined up by the side of the room and twelve injured, three who were probably going to die without medical attention, it was an indisputable victory.
But still, it didn't change how it felt. How she felt.
Four of those five deaths were her fault. Her mistake. Because she'd taken her eye off the ball; she hadn't been fast enough when she saw the old man slipping away.
She may have done the lion's share of the fighting, but she was also responsible for the most fuck ups here, too.
"Master Dallon, ma'am." She turned around, finding one of the remaining royal guards approaching, shaking his head. "We can't find her, ma'am."
Vicky felt her lip curl.
She got away… again.
Another fuck up.
How many more Jedi or clones would she kill before Vicky or someone strong enough to kill her got another chance?
A dozen? A hundred?
She forced herself to take a deep breath, closing her eyes as she forced herself to find her sense of calm again.
'What's done is done. You can't save everyone.'
It was her father's voice she heard at the back of her mind now. One of his rare moments of clarity right in time to catch her after she suffered her first screw up as Glory Girl, what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.
"Master?" Iskt asked beside her, no doubt sensing something wrong.
She offered the boy a gentle smile. "I'm alright, sweetie." She promised, hoping it wasn't a lie.
She let out the breath, turning her eyes to offer the guard a nod. "Keep watching the prisoners." She requested. "I'm going to go check on Dennis and Ventress, see what they found."
The Mandalorian nodded, fingers gripping his weapon tightly as he overlooked the collection of lightly wounded Death Watch survivors.
"Come on, Iskt." Turning away she headed towards the back, where the server room was, her student following after her.
It was colder further inside. Beyond the heat leaking in from outside and the torn down door, the front was filled with the cloying heat of bodies, still smoldering blaster shots and the smell of burnt circuitry and molten slag.
The light sweat she'd worked up made the cold uncomfortable, and after a second or so, she felt the Fragile One filter it out for her, keeping the external temperature comfortable for her.
"Thanks, partner"
The little shard almost seemed to preen at the words, the lingering guilt at the strike that had gotten through fading just that little bit more as she heard Vicky's praise.
Finding the server room was easy enough; she just had to spot the snarly Ventress standing outside of it.
The Rattatak woman was staring at a spot on the far wall, arms crossed, brows scrunched together. She still looked like she was itching for a fight, but Vicky didn't really have her own head on straight enough to help her out. Maybe later, after she'd gotten herself back to an equilibrium.
Slipping past her with a perfunctory nod, she entered the server room to find one Mandalorian tied up at the back of the room, stiffening when she saw Vicky.
This was one of the ones that had been fighting her.
"How's it looking, buddy?"
She turned her head, away from the Mandalorian prisoner and towards Dennis who was leaning over a computer screen, comlink in hand.
Vicky could hear Rugess' babbling on the other side.
Stepping forward she planted a hand on Dennis' shoulder. "What's up?"
"A lot. None of it good." Dennis said. "They did two things. Tried to send and purge their data."
"Did they manage it?"
"They would have-" Dennis nodded, then wiggled the communicator. "But Rugess caught what they were doing on his end. Worked some magic to slow 'em down."
"And that's why he's Uncle Rugess." Iskt chimed in cheekily.
Dennis offered the boy a glare, Iskt turning his head to the side and up, looking away and pretending not to notice. If Trandoshans could whistle, Vicky had no doubt he'd be doing that.
It made her smile, giving the boy a pat on the head before leaning towards the comlink. "You're the best, Rugg."
"Look," Dennis sighed. "As fun as this is, it isn't all good news. Rugess slowed 'em down, but he didn't stop it. They still managed to purge almost forty percent of the data they had and they did send off almost eighty percent of it to wherever their backup site or collaborators were."
Vicky winced. "Shit. Okay, but sixty percentish of the data should give us a pretty clear idea on what they were working on."
"Oh, we know what they were working on!"
Dennis reached over, giving a few hard clacks on a keyboard before various holo-images sprang up around them.
Images of her, of Taylor, their clones, their battles, even their Padawans.
Vicky's eyes went wide "Wh-what-"
"They're studying you." Dennis answered. "This," He gestured around them. "All of this is to figure out how your powers work, and design a "fuck you in particular" weapon system for both you and Taylor! I'm pretty sure that fucking mecha suit out there was their proof of concept for fighting against you!"
"Well, I just trashed it!" She protested.
"You trashed a prototype! A test model. One being piloted by a guy that should've been in a retirement home. And even if YOU could trash it, unlike YOU, these things can, theoretically, be mass produced." Dennis shot back. "Imagine if they throw five, or even ten, on a battlefield. How many can you take on at once? Two or three, while the others rip through your Jedi and clone backup while you're busy. They just sent eighty percent of this data somewhere else, where they can just pick up where they left off and keep going until they work out the bugs and the kinks, whatever they were."
Vicky stared at the surrounding images, her lips pressed into a thin, grim line.
"It's fine."
"The fuck do you mean its fine!" He snarled, angry; either on her behalf or because of her dismissal… or both.
It was sweet, in a way, but she didn't have the patience for it right now. "Do you really think I would have stepped foot outside that Temple, that Tay would have let me step foot outside that Temple, without considering that this would happen? We've done war games about how we'd try to kill each other, Dennis." She answered.
He glared at her, his lips pressed tightly together.
She made herself smile, something to reassure, make light of it, even if she herself felt anything but nauseated at the revelation. "It's almost like home, yeah?" She said. "Villains were always trying to find ways around our powers. Some even wanted to kill us."
"Villains?" She heard Iskt mumble behind her just as Dennis spoke up. "Not the same and you know it."
"Well, don't get on my case about it!" She snapped, her hand whipping out to gesture vaguely in the direction of the Mandalorians being held prisoner near the entrance. "These fuck-heads started this war by bombing a bunch of civilians! I'm hardly gonna sit around with my thumb up my ass because they're gonna get pissed when I punch 'em in the face! Or are you hiding a power that makes you unkillable somewhere in that ship of yours for the day the Hutts manage to catch you!?"
He opened his mouth, ready to argue when Vicky saw him visibly reign himself in, fingers pressing down over the bridge of his nose.
She looked back at the screens. "Any chance we can track down where exactly they sent the data."
"Yes, actually." He sighed. "Rugess is already on it. They were rerouting the signal through a few commbuoys, so we're probably gonna get some false positives mixed in with the real one, but it's better than nothing."
"Time table?"
He did her the favor of asking the Bith on the other end of the line.
"Few days, tops." He relayed. "But we've got to get moving now. I can't imagine this firefight was subtle even by Hutt standards. They'll be sending someone to check things out and if I'm seen here, we're gonna have another fucking problem on our hands"
"Can Rugess track it remotely?" She asked.
"Le'ts hope so." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'll transfer everything that's left, or at least everything I can, off these servers. We can take it all with us and hope for the best. Let's get the Mandalorians in cuffs onto the Duchess' ship and haul ass out of here."
She nodded, turning and beginning to march out, finding the Mandalorian woman that she'd seen before, making her way closer to pick her up and place her with the others.
As Vicky drew near, the woman recoiled, all but pressing herself into the wall behind her.
"D-don't come near me!" She shouted, her voice on the edge of hysterical.
Vicky's eyebrows hiked up into her hairline; that certainly wasn't a reaction she was used to.
She was about to tell her to move towards the other prisoners if she didn't want Vicky dragging her there when she thought better of it.
Fear oozed through the woman's mind like blood seeping from a wound. Pulling back, Vicky schooled her features into a cold mask of careful neutrality.
"Let me ask you something." She began jerking her head a bit. "Mandos aren't exactly known as top tier scientists. Were you guys the exception, or were you working with some of the Seps?"
The woman didn't answer, the subtle trembling in her body betraying her fear with her flesh alongside her writhing mind.
The Jedi stepped closer
"I don't know who the old man was coordinating with!" She shouted, uselessly trying to shuffle away. "We work in cells, compartmentalized information. We use in-betweens, messengers, dead drops! We know Jedi can read minds!"
As Vicky read them, her words rang true, and she cursed. It was a setup she was familiar with. Lung and Kaiser had both used similar systems to protect their operations in the Bay.
"But you do know things." Vicky pressed. "He sent you here to purge the data. Which means, at the very least, that you have admin access, or are somewhere above footsoldier on the ladder.
"Barely." The woman spat. "You crushed my squad commander's rib cage. I was the only one he had left that could do it."
A partial truth, and a partial lie.
Vicky leaned down, her hand rising to place itself atop the woman's helmet, hearing her whimper and curl in on herself, her surface thoughts flickering with all the ways Vicky's hand could crush her skull still inside the beskar.
"Lie to me again, and this is no longer a pleasant conversation."
The woman's breathing accelerated, becoming harsh and almost erratic.
"You said it yourself, Jedi can read minds-" She couldn't, exactly, (her old college courses were still valid) but surface impressions and emotional reads were quite different. Like the difference between leafing over a book and reading it. "-so why bother pissing me off if you never had a chance to trick me?"
The woman nodded. "There was someone else with access, but he escaped. Old man sent him to get the Sith."
Komari. Hmm. "How long have you and the Sith been friends?"
"She showed up here like, four, five days ago!" She shook her head. "Said she was here to check on progress for the guys footing the bill. Wanted to make sure the credits weren't being wasted."
"Then why rescue her? Giving a specific order in a very hectic fight like that doesn't just happen."
The woman's fear spiked, and Vicky snapped. "Answer me!" She laced her words with a suggestion, the Force barely even feeling the tepid, fragile resistance before it smashed through like punching through wet cardboard.
"She hit you!" The woman screamed. "B-boss figured she might have figured out how to do it!"
Vicky resisted the urge to scoff.
That hit was a combination of her carelessness and Komari getting lucky. If the bitch actually knew how to hit Vicky after today, the Jedi was gonna eat her own fucking shoe.
"L-look, I don't know anything else, just don't-" The woman trailed off, her mind once more veering towards all the ways Vicky could murder her; the myriad recent examples giving her imagination ample material to work with.
Vicky nodded. "I won't." She promised, standing up and gesturing towards the door behind her. "But you've got a choice, either you walk or I drag you."
The woman didn't seem to understand for a second, but after a moment her brain caught up and she stood on wobbly legs, using the wall to support herself before giving Vicky as wide a berth as was possible in the narrow halls, beginning to walk outside.
Iskt watched it all, his reptilian eyes giving nothing away, though she sensed he had plenty to actually say.
Giving the boy the kindest smile she could muster, she opened her mind to him, urging him to do the same as she focused her thoughts to speak without their prisoner overhearing.
"You okay, buddy?"
Her Padawan nodded.
"I'm fine, Master." He reached over, fingers lightly grazing the already scabbing injuries.
"I'm glad, but not entirely what I meant." She reached over, patting him on the head. "I can sense you've got something on your mind. Thoughts running around and bothering you."
She stopped herself from just demanding he speak up, amending at the last moment. "You wanna talk about it?"
She saw his cheeky, needle toothed smirk. "Are we 'talking' now? I thought we had to use our voices for that, Master."
She rolled her eyes. "You're getting too snarky in your old age, ya know that?"
"First lesson as your Padawan Master: There's no such thing as too much snark."
She rolled her eyes even harder. "I'm banning you from hanging out with Anakin… and Taylor, too! She put you up to this insolence, didn't she!? Tay would do that! Getting other people to do her snark and witty comments for her. Typical Master type cape behavior.
Her Padawan grinned, far too pleased with himself.
Then he grew serious.
"Do you really think it's fine?" He asked. "That they're devoting so much effort to try and kill you?"
She winced. "I meant fine as in 'we have other priorities'. What's happening here was something we always knew was going to happen. I may not have thought it would have happened this soon, but even if I didn't know, Tay made it abundantly clear that we were going to get pushback, we were going to piss people off. This… just came with the territory."
He was quiet for a moment, his mind awhirl with thoughts as he considered things. She risked delving a little deeper, past the projected thoughts, even past the surface thoughts just a bit.
"You're a priority too, Master."
She felt her heart flutter and choke in her chest, equal parts touched and worried that she'd said the wrong thing.
But before she could find a way to address it, his intended thoughts reached her.
"Was their weapon a risk? To you, I mean? Were you in any danger?"
She shook her head. "Scale of one to ten, that thing, on its own, barely cracked a four."
Honestly it was a little… odd to think that. Back during her Glory Girl days, that suit would have been very dangerous to go toe-to-toe with. Its armor wasn't exactly unbeatable but, as Komari so recently reminded her, all they needed was one good solid hit and that's it for her. The suit could last in a fight, had weaponry that could get past her shield if she made a mistake, or was caught off guard, and its pilot had a lot more combat experience than she did.
As Glory Girl, not Jedi Master Dallon, that might have been one of the defining fights of her career, a highlight reel… if she survived it.
Now, for all their effort, all they had to show for it was a bloody lip because of her own stupidity.
"But as you already heard, the real danger is the potential mass production. One suit per Jedi Master would be a great trade, but even that would be unsustainable. I can only be in one place at a time, whereas those suits and their pilots can take out… hundreds, maybe even thousands of people if the pilot's good enough before they're put down."
"And the Separatists can keep making more faster than we can make Jedi." Iskt nodded. "I understand… lets hope Rugess can trace that second site."
He hid it, and he hid it well, but she could feel the disquiet in his mind as he pulled away from their connection, gently returning his mind to its neutral, 'sealed' state.
She reached over, one arm coiling around his shoulders to pull him close in a pseudo hug. She felt his curiosity, but he didn't complain.
Good boy.
Making their way to the front of the facility, the last Mando prisoner joined her remaining fellows, surrounded by the remaining royal guards. "Alright." She sighed. "Let's get these guys ready for transport." She said, pausing for a moment. "You guys can take the live ones back to Mandalore, or Corellia," she nodded. "I think we'll be taking the dead back to the Temple."
"Why?" One of the Royal Guards asked, more curious than anything.
"Actually, I misspoke," she chuckled just a bit. "We'll be taking their gear. Beskar armor will probably fit clones really well."
One of the remaining Death Watch members tried to stand and rush her, receiving a solid rifle but to the back of his helmeted skull for his efforts as he cursed her in various creative ways in Mando'a. Another stood, this time speaking in Basic. "Beskar'gam is meant for Mandalorians, and by ancient rite will be passed onto their descendants and fellow clan members. Not your clones, Jedi!"
Vicky tossed the man a look out of the corner of her eye.
"Didn't you hear, Mandalorian?" She asked rhetorically. "Last I checked, by order of the Duchess Satine as voiced by the Senator from Mandalore, all Death Watch members have been struck from Mandalore's records. You have no clan to pass this armor onto."
She smirked, feeling their seething hatred like an open furnace beside her. "Which means that this beskar goes to the one that kills you. Seeing as how that was me, and I've got a clone legion full of Mandalorian boys that need clothes on their backs…" She shrugged. "Thanks for your contribution to the war effort."
(X)(X)(X)
Honestly this chapter was supposed to be a bit longer; there were a few more scenes planned for it- but life just decided to hit me ALL at once this last week.
So yeah, apologies for the delay and "short" chapter, (its probably gonna be a bitch to work the pacing later) but I kinda wanted to just "finish" and post it, hopefully next week things are better/easier.
At any rate, I hope you all enjoyed it regardless of length. As some SBer's pointed out, Anakin will be the White Scars, Tay the Thousand Sons, and Vicky's will rapidly become 'The Magpie's' Or "The Blood Ravens" as other, less cultural people might know them.
Next chapter we'll be in for a bit of a surprise. But a pleasant one. Unlike my week.
If you all want to get to the next chapters early where we find out Karla's power, the things the bad guys are up to and of course the conclusion to Alexandria and Palpatine's fun buddy cop vacation; you can join us on Patreon for just $1.00 a month, Link is down below in the Sig
Thank you all for your time and joining me here I'll catch you in the next one
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
With numbers like that, it would count as one.
So in the end, this was a hindrance, but not a stop.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8yyAgk9der4
Some can, but mostly it is reading emotions.
Snark-to-snark combat.
Wait til there's Ham-to-Ham combat. The unstoppable pork meets the immovable sausage!
Spylobster
Centrist-Malenyevist
I don't think there's anyone who could match Sidious in that regard.
You know that with the dead of Worm coming back to life, these are words that could summon Mouse Protector, right?