Through Victory My Chains Are Broken, a RWBY/Star Wars Crossover

[Mr. Cloak]

Ruby!Weiss Ship is a good ship. It should not sink.

 

[shinkicker444]

An Empress needs consorts!

Good chapter, that talk went better than expected. Meeting with Salem will be interesting, I guess she is going to try and intimidate Ruby.

 

[Irax]

There's something I just thought of : considering Ruby's experience with Crescent Rose, why did you choose to give Silba a regular lightsaber and not the obvious double lightsaber or lightstaff?

 

[TheMadmanAndre]

Spoiler: Preface

In the spirit of a day where people all over blow stuff up, here's a sidestory post where Silba blows stuff up. This was inspired by a recent video game trailer, and perhaps you can figure out which one from reading. Also, it features a couple of crowd favorite Star Wars characters that I've been wanting to use at some point too.

Special thanks to JohnSmith13 for proofreading, and all my patrons over on Patreon for their continued support.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

"So, this is the target?"

"It is."

In the back corner of a dimly lit bar on a seedy backwater world, two people held a quiet conversation. To anyone more than a couple of tables away, they were inaudible. To anyone that would have had the misfortune of being closer though, the topic was bounty hunting. And the bounty…

"Her name is Silba," the first, a bounty agent, said to the second, before pushing a tiny, flickering holo-emitter across the table. "She's an Imperial agent, although you won't find her in any employee database. The client's already checked apparently."

The second scrutinized the hologram. "No face?"

"She never shows it," the first answered. "And no, she ain't no Mando like you either. Client checked that too, else I wouldn't be giving this to you."

"Mask is too old," the second noted. "Way too old. Looks like it came out of a museum." The second didn't feel any different, knowing his target was wearing something she had probably stolen from a worthy warrior. Most Mandalorians would have been disgusted by her sacrilege, but not him, not really. To him, she was just another mark.

"Yeah. Also, the client is willing to front an advance for this job," the first said, pushing a cred-chip across the table.

"An advance?" the second asked, eyeing the chip. "Why?"

"Because she's a Force user," the first said. "Her and her companion."

"I see. How much is the advance?"

"One quarter upfront, with the rest on delivery."

"One quarter?" The second looked at the chip again, and understood the implications. The client really wanted this one brought in. "You're putting a lot of trust in me," he told the bounty agent.

"The advance is first come, first serve," the agent explained. "And you're the best, so you get first serve."

The second grunted. "High praise coming from you. So, a location?"

"She and her partner move around a lot," the agent explained. "Kinda like you, come to think of it. But they might be on their way to Corellia in a few days. The client won't say how they know that, only that that's where they're going to be."

"Good to know." The second took the cred-chip, pocketing it in his armor. Advances were rare in his line of work - after all, payment normally came after the job. But one hundred and twenty five thousand credits up front, with a further three seventy-five on completion? Bringing in a bounty like that would put anyone's name on the map, and every two-bit bounty hunter in the galaxy was going to be chomping at the bit for this one. Whoever this Silba was, she had seriously pissed off the wrong person, and now they wanted her brought in no matter the cost.

Corellia, two days. It would give Boba Fett time to prepare, to maybe bribe a few of the right people in the right places to be eyes and ears. The bounty would be coming to him for a change, and Fett was looking forward to it.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

"Well, this was a colossal waste of time."

Silba wanted to argue with the Seventh Sister, but in truth she agreed. It had been a waste of time for them.

When the ISD had gotten wind of rumors of a Jedi potentially hiding out on the core world of Corellia, word had of course gotten back to Lord Vader. He had been busy at the moment, so he had delegated the task to the two of them, to root out this Jedi in hiding. They had traveled to Coronet City, one of the largest cities on the planet, and began their search there. Fortunately, they didn't have to search for long as they had quickly tracked the alleged Jedi down. Except…

The man had been no Jedi, just an impersonator and nobody. He had been some scavenger apparently, that had somehow gotten his hands on a lightsaber and some ratty robes. Said lightsaber Silba now held, the corroded weapon heavy in her own hands. It was an ancient, barely functional relic, the green beam dim and flickering from a lack of maintenance and age. Whoever had once carried it had been dead for eons if not longer, if the Crusader-era crossguard exhaust vents were anything to go off of.

"So, what do we do now?" Silba asked her companion, tucking away the relic. She decided to hold onto it, on the chance Lord Vader would be interested in it.

"Our ships are still being inspected and serviced," the Seventh Sister replied. "They won't be finished for at least a couple more hours, so… Whatever?"

Silba didn't reply. Their fighters had become ensnared, metaphorically, in the labyrinthian Imperial bureaucracy. Some weird bylaw of Corellia stated that all arriving ships apparently required an inspection upon arrival, 'to judge them for space-worthiness and reliability' as the spaceport functionary had put it. Initially, Silba had considered a mind trick to bypass the paperwork, but the Sister waved her off. A brief talk later and she had somehow persuaded the man to refuel and rearm their starfighters free of charge. And the Sister didn't have to use any mind tricks to do it either, impressively.

Which left them standing at the exit of the central spaceport, alone in the crowd flowing in and out of it. "Frustrating," Silba eventually replied.

"We should look around the markets for the time being," the Sister suggested. "Perhaps find a bite to eat too."

Silba shrugged. They were going to be here for a while. Perhaps she would find something interesting herself.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Unfortunately, very little actually interested Silba there. While yes, the bazaars offered a wide variety of wares from all corners of known space, Silba actually had very little use for any of it. Not exotic carpets, nor baubles or trinkets. She had little interest in the food stalls, or the countless little restaurants that lined the side streets off of the main market areas. She was definitely not interested in the sprawling brothels scattered here and there, advertised with glowing and garishly pink signs. Frustrated and bored, Silba dipped into the Force, to see if perhaps she could root out something of interest to her.

Nothing. No Force presences, save hers and her distant partner's. But, she felt a tug. A pull, almost imperceptible, leading her down a side street and towards some hidden shop. Before she realized it Silba was following it, weaving through the crowds and down a series of narrow steps. There were fewer people there, and it was clear that this narrow street was infrequently traveled despite its close proximity to the nearby markets. There were still a few shops between residential flats though, and one proved to be the destination she felt she was being led to.

The sign simply said 'Munition Nation' in Aurebesh, the lettering faded from time and the corrosive rain typical of a heavily-industrialized world. Silba opened the door and stepped inside, a chime announcing her entry. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it hadn't been… whatever this place was. The small shop was absolutely stuffed with all sorts of surplus military-grade gear, and used or obsolete clothing and body armor. Storage packs and miscellaneous objects lined one wall, and a complete set of old Clone Trooper armor was on display in a corner. The back wall of the room was covered in an assortment of firearms, both new and old. They ranged from old Clone War-era blasters, to what looked suspiciously like the Imperial-grade blaster rifles.

"Exclamation: Welcome!" came a voice from her right. Silba hadn't sensed anyone, because the staff consisted of a single burnished protocol droid of indeterminate make and model.

"Presumption: You are here to buy something, correct? And not window shop like a fleshy meatbag tourist like so many of my customers tend to… be…"

"What?" Silba asked. She felt… something from the droid. Something odd, although she wasn't sure what.

"Question: Are you… No, that would be impossible. Unless…"

"Do I know you?"

"Retort: That is my line," The strange droid said. "Do you know the name 'Revan,' by any chance?"

Silba did. She had heard that name several years ago, and she never expected to ever hear it again, and not from a random droid in a back alley blaster shop.

"Warning: A simple nod or shake of the head will suffice," the droid spoke. "And no sudden moves toward those lightsabers you have my dear, or it will not end well for either of us."

The droid's tone put Silba on edge. "What are you?" She demanded.

"Amused reply: Oh, me? I am a droid of many talents," the droid spoke. "And you have yet to answer my question."

"I do," Silba answered it. Her instincts told her that whatever this droid was, whatever it may be masquerading as now, it was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. What had Silba just met? She decided to play by feel, and answer truthfully yet carefully. "That was the name of this mask's previous owner, or so I was told."

"Question: Oh? By who?"

"The Emperor, Palpatine." When Silba had been given her new face, Lord Vader had only known about the mask being a belonging of a long dead Sith Master. He hadn't known his name, or any details. The object's dark presence in the force had been proof enough of its authenticity. It had been the Emperor, Vader's Master, who had filled her in on the mask's origins and former owner. Revan, Dark Master of the Sith, and one of the greatest to have ever lived.

"Statement: Interesting."

A moment passed in silence, as Silba sized up the droid. She probably could take it in a fight. Strangely, the Force seemed to wash over its chassis, preventing Silba from scrutinizing it with too much detail.

"Question: What else did he know of the late Revan?"

"That Revan was a powerful Sith Lord," Silba answered truthfully.

"Question: And how did you obtain that mask?"

"Lord Vader gave it to me," she answered. Silba decided, based on work she'd seen of the Seventh Sister, that the droid's arms contained concealed blasters at the very least, if not something more esoteric. She also decided that it was extremely skilled in their use. And there was other stuff in the droid's chassis, things somehow occluded to her Force sight, that she had absolutely no clue about. If someone told her one of those modules let the droid somehow use the Force, she wouldn't have been surprised.

"Question: Does this Vader also go by 'Darth,' perchance?"

"He does, yes."

"Humorous Statement: Well, it is good to know the Sith yet persist," the protocol droid declared. "Mind you, bad for everyone else, but good for some and excellent for others. Further question: Are you his Apprentice?"

Silba didn't answer.

"Obvious statement: It is probably for the best that you not answer that. Anyways," the droid turned, walking back toward the rear counter, "Welcome to my shop."

Silba breathed a sigh of relief. "What do you sell?"

"General answer: A little bit of everything. Primarily the means for fleshbags to maim and murder each other with, occasionally for my amusement."

"I am not in the market for a blaster, but…" Silba trailed off, her eyes scanning over the merchandise. Something caught her eye, a short stack of long and narrow crates painted dull gray. The topmost one's lid was open, allowing her to peer inside. The foam-lined box contained a long, narrow tube with a pair of hand grips sticking out of its side. The rear grip contained an integral trigger, and Silba clearly recognized the missile launcher for what it was.

"Observation: An odd choice of weapon for an aspiring Sith Apprentice," the droid said to her. There was an obvious hint of mirth in its tone.

Silba didn't reply to that. Something strange was tickling the back of her mind, some strange sense of precognition. For a moment, Silba felt the sensation of annoyance, at someone pursuing her. That strange thread had seemingly been what had pulled her here, to a back alley shop staffed by a droid that knew far too much. Was it some form of a Force premonition, perhaps?

"I will buy this," Silba decided on the spur of the moment, looking at the launcher.

"Commentary: A most interesting choice of weapon. Not my preferred method of dealing with an aggressor. But if they are protected inside of a hover-tank, such armament will more than suffice."

Silba nodded. "What was Revan like?"

"Fond recollection: Darth Revan was the best Sith Lord to have ever lived. All that followed were pale imitations that dared to call themselves Sith."

Silba didn't need to ask the droid to elaborate. She didn't need to.

It wasn't until long after she had paid for the box and its weapon, and was walking back toward the spaceport, that she realized she had neglected to ask the droid its name.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

The necessary prep work had proven even easier than Fett had expected.

First, he bribed the Spaceport sub-administrator. Middle managers like him always had vices, or debts that needed to be paid off. Fortunately for Fett, the man had drinking and gambling debts galore, and with the promise of a couple thousand credits to make it all go away, he was willing to do anything for the bounty hunter. All Fett wanted was for him to make sure they landed at a specific pad, and right where he wanted them.

Next, he bribed one of the droid overseers. His task was just as simple, to have his worker droids disable their fighters' main systems, engines, weapons, shields and the like, and do it discreetly.

The last people he paid off were a pair of street kids. Corellia, like all the core worlds, was absolutely crawling with the dregs of society. Druggies, the homeless, and sadly their children too. He found the pair in a market, begging for credits and scraps of food. He gave them ration bars to eat, and a few credits to get off of the street for a few nights. As well, he gave them each a picture of a person and a small disposable communicator. Their job was the easiest of all: follow the women in the pictures from a distance when he sent word to them, and to tell him what they were doing. The kids were a weak link in his plan, but a link he could account for. Force users or no, all they'd know was that someone on Corellia was keeping an eye on them. As a precaution, he made sure they were recruited through an intermediary.

All that had taken most of two days, and just like the client had said, they had arrived. He didn't know what their business was, nor did he care. When they came back, they would fall right into their trap and he'd be a very wealthy man.

He set his people into motion, told them their jobs. From the cockpit of his Slave I, he watched the mechanic's team get to work on the two fighters. Fett scrutinized the unusual craft. Their original design was unmistakable, some sort of fighter craft based on the common Imperial TIE, but the only thing similar that they seemed to share with the mass produced craft were their bubble canopies. Both of the craft had non-standard wings and radiator fins, and no doubt other concealed and dangerous weaponry. Considering the lack of support ship, they also likely had dedicated hyperdrives, another non-standard feature.

Fortunately for him and not them, none of it was going to be of any use to either of them.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

"What."

"What?"

"Just, what." The Seventh Sister's gaze was fixed on the box that Silba held, or more specifically the markings on the side that indicated the contents.

"Why did you buy an," she read the stenciled Aurebesh again, "An RPS-8 rocket launcher?"

"I met a very persuasive arms dealer," Silba answered, "And I gave him my patronage."

"Again, what."

Silba shrugged. "The droid salesman had an excellent sales pitch."

"Silba, we use the Force. we don't need to… To shoot missiles at things." The Sister looked at the crate again. "Does it even function? You didn't get duped into buying some sort of display prop, did you?"

"He said it was real, and I believed him." Silba ignored and brushed past her, her new purchase cradled in her arms. "Regardless, I think I will find an opportunity to use it soon."

"Here?"

Silba paused, thinking. "Perhaps. Or perhaps elsewhere."

The Sister said nothing at that. She just shook her head before catching up to walk alongside her. "Did you have anything to eat at least?"

"No. But I purchased some ration bars though."

"We are on one of the most populated planets in the galaxy, you can find literally anything to eat here, and you just buy ration bars?"

"Yes, my favorite ones."

"The ones that can make it through orbital bombardment? The ones that taste like cello-plast and leather because that's what they're made of?"

Silba looked over her shoulder at the Sister. "You just want to see me take my mask off."

A moment of silence from the Sister. "Maybe."

"Our ships should be ready," Silba changed the subject. Lord Vader is expecting us back."

The Sister sighed. "Don't mention it." They left the market plaza, back toward the space port.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Fett watched from his cockpit as the duo returned.

The mechanic had finished, and he assured him that they weren't going anywhere any time soon. It had been easy too, apparently. As non-standard as the two TIEs might have been, there was still enough that the mechanic droids were familiar with to reconfigure. A few loosened power cables here and tweaked coolant flows there, and their ships' power plants would scram the moment they tried to power up.

The bounty giver had been right about one other thing, in that Silba never removed her helmet. Allegedly she was a standard human, but this Silba could have been anything under all of that. Even in relative privacy, she kept the mask on and her face hidden. Was it some sort of life support getup, perhaps? He wondered if the ion cannon wouldn't interfere with it, if that were the case. A dead bounty was a worthless bounty, after all. Unless you wanted them dead, but in that case you sent an assassin. The other was a Miralian, or so the street kid he had following her had told him. "Pretty, like my mom used to be" had been the kid's flowery description of the woman.

Not for the first time, he thought about his target's apparent nature. Force users were always nasty to deal with, and they always had a trick up their sleeve. But an important caveat was that they were only nasty when conscious, hence the stockpile of sedatives he'd brought with him to be administered by the medical droid he'd obtained just for this job. He'd knock her out with the ion cannon and keep her under until brought to the client. And if the droid did a good job, he might keep it around.

All in all, it was a good plan, on paper. And Fett was about to find out if it was good in practice.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Her recently obtained prize stowed away, Silba allowed herself a brief moment to relax.

Just a brief moment. She seethed at her time being wasted. She seethed at a lot of things, failures past and present. She wasn't sure what she was angry at right at that moment, maybe something that weird droid said to her. Or maybe the fact that she was reasonably sure it could have killed her with ease. No, she was absolutely certain of that.

"Silba?"

"Sister."

"Are you okay over there?" She asked. "I'm sensing that you're… angrier than usual."

"Yes."

"As in angry, or okay?"

Silba strapped herself in as she started powering up her fighter. "We need to go back to Mustafar." She wanted to find a quiet, semi-molten place on that rock and meditate. Maybe her Master would let her use his private chamber beneath the castle if she asked nicely.

"Yeah, but I for one am not in a rush."

"Your death."

A nervous laugh came back to Silba's ears. Her fingers danced across the front console, following the steps she had memorized to bring the fighter fully online. She heard the familiar whine of power as the main reactor came on, as subsystems powered up and primed-

A loud, screech, and then everything flickered and died. What?

Silba's first thought was one of hatred, aimed at whatever miserable cretins dared to break something and defile her precious fighter. Her next thought was about which way she was going to kill them, and how painful it was going to be for them. The third was an observation about the faded green and red Firespray-class interceptor that abruptly lifted off of the pad to her right, now turning to bring its blasters and ion cannons to bear on her and her partner's starships.

Time slowed for her as she analyzed her situation. Not a mechanical mishap or a mistake then, deliberate sabotage. The pilot of that ship is responsible, the locals are likely accomplices. She glanced to her left, glimpsed the Seventh Sister no doubt coming to the same conclusions she was.

Reaction. A flex of her power, and the interceptor was sent careening into a bulk freighter behind it. The action threw off the pilot's aim, and the about-to-discharge blasters fired, the shots careening into a far wall of the landing bay area and not her. Through the Force, Silba looked at her fighter, searching for problems she knew were there. She found each of them in an instant. Several power feeds had been disconnected, and a coolant intake had been manually shut to her ship's power reactor. A gesture, and she reconnected and reopened them before attempting again to restart her ship.

"Silba!" The sister shouted into their shared comm.

"We're under attack," she responded. "Green ship, pad next to mine. Get clear of yours, find their accomplices on the ground. I'll deal with this one."

"Are you sure?"

"They have help, and I want to kill them all when I get back." Her fighter screamed to life, and the vehicle took to the air. "Go!"

Silba didn't wait for a reply. She swung her own fighter toward the Firespray, training her banks of laser cannons and hardpoint-mounted ion torpedoes on the other vessel before depressing her flight stick's triggers.

Nothing. No flash, no recoil, nothing.

Sensing with the Force, she found the problem a millisecond later. The power couplings that fed to the laser cannons and release clamps on the torpedoes were gone. Not disconnected, simply gone.

She was defenseless.

Unfortunate.

Another gesture, and the green ship was again slammed forcefully into the parked freighter. Said freighter's landing gear buckled, and it collapsed onto the bay floor in a shower of sparks. Silba considered hopping out, to try and lash out at the ship with the Force, but the would-be assassin's ship was far sturdier than it looked, as its shielding and internal reinforcement was handling her telekinetic blows with ease. She also didn't have the time to try and focus on finer components on their ship to damage, especially not one she was wholly unfamiliar with. Silba needed a new plan, and time to think of one.

She pulled back on her stick, and accelerated upward into the sky.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Boba Fett laughed as he got his bearings and stabilized his ship, he hadn't given the target enough credit. In the time it would take most other people to string together a cohesive thought, she had reacted and counteracted, before narrowly escaping.

Somehow, she managed to get airborne. Somehow. Fett was going to have to have a chat with the idiot and his team of droids. Presumably, Silba had managed to get her fighter operational with the strange sorcery that let Force users do what they did. At least he decided to go with that, because the alternative was that the work crew managed to botch their one and only job. At least the man had disabled her weapon systems, that would make it easier to salvage this.

So, a new plan. Chase her down, hit her ship with an ion cannon. Lower it safely to the ground with a tractor beam, and then pull her unconscious out of her ship and into his. Then, take off before her friend caught up to them. Simple enough.

Fett revved his engines to the max, maneuvering the Slave I out of the landing area and after her.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

My would-be assassin is proving to be tenacious, Silba decided.

She weaved and jinked through the low-hanging clouds of Corellia, trying her best to evade the attacks from the Firespray chasing her. Normally, she should have been able to outrun and evade the other ship thanks to the Defender's superior flight profile, but it was rapidly becoming clear that this was no normal Firespray. It was someone's personal and massively customized starship, with better engines, better maneuverability-

She narrowly dodged a mixed fusilade of laser and ion bolts. Better armaments.

There were no dense clusters of towering skyscrapers with which to lose him, nor did the planet's security forces seem too keen to become interested in their battle. Silba thought about gunning it to space, to try and escape via hyperdrive. She doubted she would get the chance to make it that far, now with her assailant hot on her tail. And while that system showed green on her display and she didn't sense anything wrong with it, she did not want to take the chance either. Although…

Silba glanced over at the case, the weapon still inside of it. She had an idea. A stupid, reckless and suicidal idea, but it was an idea all the same and she didn't have any others. A particularly dense cloud loomed ahead of her, and Silba took that as her chance.

She disappeared into the cloud layer, pitched her Defender straight up and accelerated.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Boba Fett stuck to his quarry. He was not about to let her get away. Although, she was definitely testing his skill as a pilot.

Fett had never dealt with TIE fighters like the ones the duo piloted, let alone fought against them. The one he now chased looked like the Advanced TIEs he had heard about, but more customized. Three of those dagger-like radiator wings instead of the standard two, each dagger tipped with a pair of laser cannons. Between the menacing array of cannons and the twin ion missiles, she'd normally be too dangerous of a foe for even someone like him to tangle with.

But her weapons were offline, and no use to her. She still had shields it seemed, but all Fett needed was a single clean shot from his ion cannons to knock both them and the ship they shielded out. She couldn't flee into space, not with him hot on her tail. All he needed to wait for was a window of opportunity and he'd have her.

That opportunity came. She bolted, shooting straight into the sky and no doubt intent on making a break for it. Fett grinned, gunning his engines in turn to pursue her skyward. She disappeared into the clouds, and he followed right after her. As he tracked her thermal signature, he was surprised when it remained level and straight. He had expected her to try and lose her, to do some weird super-maneuverable stunt to try and shake him off. She hadn't even tried.

Her mistake.

Boba lined up his ion cannons, ready to let loose a volley the moment he had a clear shot. It came as he broke through the cloud layer, his focus zeroing in on her holding something while floating next to her fighter-

Wait.

"What?"

He said that out loud, out of sheer confusion at what he was seeing.

He reacted far too late, and his world was fire and pain.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Back in that shop, the droid had shown her how to operate the launcher. The version of the launcher he was selling was the civilian grade version, insomuch as much a missile launcher could be called civilian.

No, a rocket launcher. The droid had insisted on the proper terminology. 'Missiles' were guided, whereas 'rockets' were 'as dumb as a counterfeit gonk droid.' The droid's descriptive language, not hers. And while the rocket was unguided, the droid had insisted that it was no less effective 'at disposing of meatbags.' He described the rocket as a 'tandem' warhead, an ion charge paired with a high explosive penetrator. The ion charge allowed the warhead to pierce shields, and the high explosive penetrator was self-explanatory.

Silba flicked the switch on the side of the weapon to arm it. A flick of her wrist extended the rear exhaust tube, and it was ready. She now had a rocket launcher, inside of a cramped metal sphere screaming skyward at near supersonic velocity. Well, for the moment anyway.

Silba mashed a button on her side console, and the hatch above her head swung up and open. The fighter jerked at the sudden drag, but Silba ignored it, because it was now or never. Clutching the tube, she leapt from her seat, launching herself up and out of her fighter and into the frigid air of Corellia's atmosphere.

For a brief moment, time slowed to a crawl. Below and behind her was her own fighter, now moving away from her. In front of her, the Firespray. She could almost glimpse the pilot, and part of her recognized the Mandalorian-styled armor he wore.

Silba brought the launcher to her shoulder, aimed it and fired. A blast of light and heat as the rocket took off, spearing downward toward the pursuing Firespray. The droid had stated the rocket lacked guidance, but had suggested that Silba could use the Force to guide it instead. And with a careful nudge, she aimed the rocket directly into the path of her pursuer.

The rocket worked exactly as advertised. It sliced right through the Firespray's shield, impacting against the Firespray's canopy before detonating. The interior was filled with light and a section of the Interceptor's rear blew apart in an explosion of fire and smoke.

And Silba lauged, as best she could in her situation.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

On the ground below, the Seventh Sister took a moment to look up from her task, just in time to see her partner do something utterly impossible.

"Bantha-shit," she declared as she flung aside the man she had been Force-Choking, the mechanic she had unfortunately let damage her ship.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Behind her mask, Silba's grin was savage. She let go of the launcher, focusing back on her now empty fighter. While it was starting to slow down, the autopilot was still engaged, and Silba had to reach out through the Force to pull the craft toward her. A moment later, she climbed back aboard and strapped herself in. "Sister, report."

"Almost done here," she answered. "You were right, it seems like the local work crew was in someone's back pocket."

"A Mandalorian," Silba recalled.

"A Mando is after us? Really?"

"I think so. Whoever he is, he's not having a good day." Her scanners indicated the Firespray was still airborne, for however long gravity decided. It had reached the peak of its arc through the sky and was now falling back toward the ground below, trailing a huge plume of smoke.

Silba heard a bark of laughter. "Did… did you really just do that?"

"Do what?"

"Shoot a kriffing starship down with a portable missile?"

"A rocket, but yes."

"I- Just- That's insane."

"No, it was necessary."

More laughter from the Sister.

"I'm coming back, meet me at the landing pads. This time, I am supervising the repairs to my craft personally."

"Same here Silba, see you soon."

The connection went dead, and Silba breathed a sigh of relief. It was then she noted that the now-spent launcher tube was attached to her. Tugging at it, she realized the shoulder strap had gotten caught fast on her chestplate. Then and there, she decided she wanted to hold onto it as a souvenir. She had used it to fight and defeat a powerful opponent, after all.

Lord Vader was also going to want to know about this, including the strange droid she met. It had known things nobody should have known, not even herself. It knew about the Sith, about Vader and the Emperor. Part of her wanted to go seek out the droid as soon as she returned, just to get to the bottom of that mystery.

But no, she had a job to do. She could wait for a while. She doubted it was going anywhere.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

"What do you mean, 'it blew up?'"

"The shop you told us to check? It blew up ma'am."

"And the shopkeeper?"

"No sign of any droids in the debris."

Silba sighed. She had a feeling she would never see that droid again.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

"Did you get her?"

"No," Boba Fett said to the man sitting across the table from him. "I got a hole all the way through my ship and a gouge in my helmet."

"Ouch," the bounty giver said. "Last guy that dented your helmet died, didn't he?"

"He did." A long narrow rent had been carved into the left side of Fett's helmet by a jet of superheated blast plasma that had narrowly missed his skull. It had bored through his ship and into the auxiliary power core, destroying it entirely and taking out an engine too. Somehow he'd managed to regain level flight at the last second, escaping from Corellia to hyperspace before the local authorities could muster a force to stop him. He had to make emergency repairs mid jump, and it had been touch and go for a little while. But he was back there in that dingy bar, with about two thirds of a ship and a new respect for Force users. But alive, and that was what counted at the moment.

"I'm returning the advance," Fett said, pushing the cred-chip back to the other guy. "Also passing on a warning to the next guy that tries to take this bounty."

"Which is?"

"Don't." Boba Fett got up, put on his helmet, and left.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Spoiler: A/N

5.7K words. Not bad for a borderline omake. This skirts the line between sidestory and apocrypha, but I went with the former since no one's out of character here and I *might* refer back to events here in the future.

I was actually tempted to use Cad Bane in lieu of Boba Fett there, but there are some death flags waving for him in BB, so I held off on it. As for HK-47, I for one hope he shows up in the current storyline one day.

As for my other stuff, I've got a new post for His Will Be Done in the pipe, so stay tuned.

 

[Options]

Yeah, I feel like "don't" is the correct response in this situation.
Do we know miss Seventh Sister's name?
Thank you for the chapter!

 

[JohnSmith13]

This is probably the start of Silba's memedom in the SWverse:

"Silba is a woman of focus, commitment, sheer kriffing will... something you know very little about. I once saw her destroy three battleships with a rocket launcher. With a kriffin' rocket launcher! Who the kriff does that?!"

 

[kedgisgo]

hahaha! she just pulled a CoD montage move and made it believable..
also nice to see HK47 still kicking around, and doing the smart thing of nopeing the hell out as soon as sith-lady's back was turned.

 

[TheMadmanAndre]

Yeah, I feel like "don't" is the correct response in this situation.
Do we know miss Seventh Sister's name?
Thank you for the chapter!

Click to shrink...

It is.

The Sister was never named in the storyline, unfortunately.

And thank you!

This is probably the start of Silba's memedom in the SWverse:

"Silba is a woman of focus, commitment, sheer kriffing will... something you know very little about. I once saw her destroy three battleships with a rocket launcher. With a kriffin' rocket launcher! Who the kriff does that?!"

Click to shrink...

"Think Fett, THINK! You accepted a bounty against a Force User! What did you think was going to happen!?"

hahaha! she just pulled a CoD montage move and made it believable..
also nice to see HK47 still kicking around, and doing the smart thing of nopeing the hell out as soon as sith-lady's back was turned.

Click to shrink...

She very much did, yes.

As for HK? Yeah, he knew there'd be heat coming. He basically activated the det charges under the counter and walked out the back door the moment Silba left.

 

[Pax_Empyrean]

In which Silba RendeZoooks Boba Fett. Seeing as how this took place on a populated planet, my headcanon is that this was recorded and later circulated as a video clip titled "the galaxy is a meritocracy and here's the woman in charge of all of it."

hahaha! she just pulled a CoD montage move and made it believable..

Click to shrink...

Battlefield montage move.

CoD was never much about vehicles.

 

[LostArchivist]

A moment passed in silence, as Silba sized up the droid. She probably could take it in a fight.

Click to shrink...

New headcanon: HK-47 is Skitter.

...I mean, Taylor's body went somewhere, and that droid is custom... Maybe Revan ran across a coma patient and, seeing their injuries, figured they had to know something useful, so she uploaded them to a droid...
(I want to see that get written now. It's totally crack, but might actually work... Anyway, Revan will always be female IMO because of Nemesis13. Long story. No idea what gender s/he is here in this story, though.)

"Question: Are you… No, that would be impossible. Unless…"

"Do I know you?"

"Retort: That is my line," The strange droid said. "Do you know the name 'Revan,' by any chance?"

Click to shrink...

But yes. This is highly interesting and slightly worrying. And I too hope he shows up again later, yes.
If he's on Remnant though I'm going full Epileptic Tree. That would imply something of a stable time loop.

...I wonder if Ruby is still, or makes herself, immortal again, or if she simply becomes another past owner of HK-47. That would be sad... I'm guessing it happens eventually, though, because she never did find Remnant in the Star Wars setting, so presumably SW is either far future or past, and if she were still around one of them would know (...or would she not interfere to avoid changing her past?). Maybe Remnant hasn't even happened yet, and the Grimm are ancient Sith experiments that Salem took over. That way Ruby( Silba) can remain the immortal god-empress in peace.

Is her immortality because she's time-displaced, or is something else going on? Heck, for all we know, those of Remnant are immortal unless killed (usually by Grimm). It wouldn't actually change much given how frequently wars happen or settlements are lost. It might even explain why they keep opening settlements and why they can still survive that as a species. It's like that line I read somewhere about why the elves were warlike... It was probably from The Gods Are Bastards again.

Although... if we take the title card literally, Remnant might be in the future of the setting, and HK-47 has already been around a long time. He might just have made it there after all by the vagaries of the Force. I still find it more likely that if he shows up on Remnant, she tells him about the meeting and he makes sure to be there later, but that assumes that SW is actually alongside Remnant after all such that Revan could have gone before but Silba still ends up in the future to meet HK-47 again from will have having met him in Remnant. Which says odd things about her inability to find her planet since it would have to be somewhere during the events of SW then...

All of the options are going to have implications, which is why I made that comment about crazy theories.

"Do what?"

"Shoot a kriffing starship down with a portable missile?"

"A rocket, but yes."

Click to shrink...

I have a new standard for badassery.

"No," Boba Fett said to the man sitting across the table from him. "I got a hole all the way through my ship and a gouge in my helmet."

Click to shrink...

This really gets across that Fett is not overrated. I'm also tempted to see the new movie about him, but, well, Disney+ is a true abomination and canon star wars movies for me will always be the original six. They killed off Han Solo!

I kinda wish I had read the star wars books when I was younger and had the chance, though. I have no idea where to begin now, and with The Retcon I'm no longer sure if I even can. I'll bet the licenses have been revoked at minimum...

"Which is?"

"Don't." Boba Fett got up, put on his helmet, and left.

Click to shrink...

Although this also points out that Fett finds Silba a worthy opponent, which is also fairly impressive.

 

[TheMadmanAndre]

Spoiler: Preface

So, I really should have posted this... a while ago. Better late than never, I suppose.

As always, special thanks to JohnSmith13 for his help in making this chapter possible.

Special thanks to my Patrons, for supporting me and my work:
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- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Silba's plan was simple. Just send a specter in her stead and watch from afar.

She had arrived half an hour prior to the designated time, Weiss in tow. The trip there was uneventful, thanks to the Sith Cloak she had placed around herself and her partner that hid their presence from prying eyes both near and far. She had expected her partner to refuse the idea of following along, and yet Weiss had not. Even with uncertainty clouding her mind and faced with something like a bona fide Grimm Queen, Weiss had chosen to stay by her side. That told Silba that Weiss was trusting her to protect her at least.

For a moment, she thought back to what they had talked about earlier, about Weiss telling others about her. While she had brought it up in a bid to better gain Weiss's trust, it had also at the same time been the truth. Ruby being outed as the Red Blade and being forced to flee from Beacon would hinder many of her plans, but it was something she had accounted for. Fortunately, it was turning out to be more and more unlikely.

Silba looked down at the meeting spot. She had chosen a spot above the designated area, a rocky outcropping overlooking an arrangement of ruins below. The old initiation grounds, the center of which Salem had chosen for their parley. Little had changed since she had last visited the place during her second day at Beacon, and the damage to the nearby ruins had long been repaired. The plinths upon which the chess piece relics had stood were bare, and the whole area seemed desolate and forlorn.

Silba thought about her counterpart's potential actions. She and Weiss had arrived early, and there was no sign of anyone else in the area that Silba could sense. The outcrop was well-placed to overlook the meeting discreetly, and a hidden agent like her would consider it a good place to eavesdrop. Or for an assassin to hide and wait for a signal to attack from the shadows. She would need to be especially mindful of her surroundings and take care to avoid detection. If she had thought about it, so had Salem.

"So, what exactly is our plan here?" Weiss asked her.

"Remember earlier, when I made that double of myself?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch." Silba held up an arm, and once more smoke billowed off of her form. Once more it coalesced into the cloaked figure of the Red Blade.

"I'm never not going to be creeped out by that," Weiss muttered. "It's a little different too."

"Ah." Subconsciously, she had given the specter her old mask, the one that she had once worn as Vader's Apprentice, in lieu of the cold weather lower face mask she had been relying on. The specter looked over to the two of them, before giving a friendly wave and dropping down the cliffside to land in the clearing below.

"And now for our position." Silba relaxed, channeling the Force into their surroundings. A blanket of the Force Cloak variant Silba had used earlier settled over the cliff face around her, the sensation oddly comforting to Silba's senses. A moment of consideration, before layering atop it a field of Force Stealth as well. Her companion did not seem to be aware of what Silba was doing, only that she seemed to be doing something.

"Ruby?" Weiss asked.

"I used the Force to hide our presence here," she grinned. "We are completely safe now."

"How does that work?"

"There is a technique, multiple techniques actually, that lets you hide things from the perceptions of others," she explained. She skipped most of the details, as the full truth was unsettling to those unfamiliar with how the Dark Side of the Force worked. "Or in this case, people. Quite useful for when you want to hide from a pursuer without physically doing so or simply when there's no handy box lying around."

"Right," Weiss deadpanned.

"Trust me, anyone standing in the clearing?" she gestured toward the space below. "They would not be able to see us here, even in broad daylight. So long you remain close to me, we are completely hidden to any onlookers."

"That seems impossible."

"Such is the Force," Silba replied. "The only thing that is impossible is impossibility itself."

"And what about the other senses, or Aura?" She asked. "What if someone were to come up here?"

Silba considered it. "The fields I put up influence a person's overall perceptions, so yes. And as for anyone poking around here, I will be aware of them long before they are aware of us."

"You've got magic powers now, right." Weiss turned to look down at the plinths and the specter walking toward them. "So this is your entire plan, just sit up here and watch?"

"And guide my double. But yes, pretty much. We do not have the resources for additional… insurance, unfortunately. That being said, there is also less chance of something going unrecoverably awry with simpler plans." Silba's double strolled past the plinths, hopping onto a section of ruin to wait.

"Speaking of, is that what you meant when you said we both had alibis?" She pointed down at the specter. "You made more of those, didn't you, of us?"

"Indeed." At that moment, their body doubles were both soundly sleeping in their beds back at Beacon. This close to the school and to them, she easily could manage the strain of running four doubles simultaneously. In her prime she could have raised a small army of them without breaking a sweat, but now, just three were enough to start taxing her reserves. However, the alibi doubles were both doing the exact same thing at that moment which was pretending to sleep, which made things much easier for her.
"That is insane," Weiss said. "Can you show me how to make one?"

"Show you, yes. But being able to use it may take much longer."

"Really?"

"It took me decades to get the hang of it," Silba explained. "Specters are an incredibly advanced Force technique. It might take you less time though, since your family is able to do something similar with your Semblances." At some point in her past, Weiss had mentioned her family's Semblance. Besides the Glyphs she could manifest, members of her family could manifest duplicates of Grimm they had slain in battle. It was a novel technique that did not have a perfect Force-based analog, though it shared intriguing similarities with a few.

"Huh." Weiss fell silent, no doubt thinking about the possibilities and implications. If she was serious about learning, there was much Silba could teach the girl one day. "My sister can make full summons. But I can't, not yet. I can't even make partial summons, let alone people. And even if I could, our summons are too conspicuous to be able to pass for the originals."

"Tell me, has your sister experimented with different types of Dust to find out if those summons can be modified?"

Weiss stilled. "No. Not that I heard of, at least," she mused.

"Heads up," Silba told her, "we have company."

Silba didn't even need her Scry-sight to see them clearly either. She could see through the night sky the dark forms of two Nevermores, gliding low and silently from the direction of the ocean. They set down in a small clearing about a quarter-klick from the plinth clearing, and Silba could make out a lone figure astride each of them.

The ad hoc flying mounts weren't the only company. Flying alongside them had been another, much smaller form she almost missed. It was the Grimm messenger bird from the night before. It remained high overhead, circling in the darkness.

"Remain quiet, Weiss," Silba whispered to her companion. She scrutinized the creature, Scrying it in detail as best she could. She realized it was likely acting as a sort of sentry of sorts, scanning for signs of trouble. Its head looked to and fro, jerking this way and that. After a moment it landed and perched in one of the nearby taller trees, before turning its gaze to focus on the specter in the clearing.

"Ruby?"

"Salem is being cautious," Silba whispered an explanation. "She also sent a miniature Nevermore, smaller and more concealable than most. It is perched in that tree on the far side of the clearing."

"Oh."

"It has failed to notice us, so we are safe for now."

The pair riding the larger Nevermores dismounted, and a short while later they were striding into view. The first of the pair was a giant of a man, muscles rippling from head to toe. The other in contrast was lanky and thin, almost animalistic in his movement. Silba could tell through her Scry-sight that he was a Faunus, with a black and chitinous tail tipped with a scorpion stinger at the end. Thinking back, Silba realized she recognized these two from the description that the security guard at the lab she had raided had given her. They zeroed in on the specter standing calmly out in the open.

"Is that her?" the scorpion Faunus asked his companion.

"Maybe," the big one replied. They were still too far away to be heard normally, but a little bit of Force manipulation and her partner could hear them as well, their voices sounding as if they were right next to them. Weiss, expectedly, flinched in surprise.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Them," she explained. "Just a party trick, really."

"Can they hear us?"

"Stealth field."

"Of course." Weiss looked at the pair. "They look pretty tough," she noted.

Silba agreed. No doubt both were seasoned killers. She wondered how long they had been in service to their master, as such roles tended to, how would a Nemoidian say it? Have a high turnover?

"Ruby, do you think you could take them?" Weiss asked her.

"Without a doubt," she assessed. "But they are not the issue."

"What do you mean?"

"You are familiar with politics, no?"

Weiss scoffed. "Dust company heiress, remember?"

Silba chuckled.

"But yeah, yeah I do unfortunately."

"So when the head of an organization has a meeting, what does it mean when she sends in thugs or guards ahead of her?"

Weiss frowned. "It's a power play, isn't it?"

"Precisely. Salem intends to set the tone, so to speak. She requested a meeting with me, and brought along two lackeys, at least one of whom seems like the sort to torture tookas in his free time. She wants to signal she can resort to violence, while coming off as a reasonable yet superior figure." Silba paused for a moment, thinking about it further before continuing. "She likely wants me off balance and on the defensive right from the outset. And should talks break down, those two would only act as a distraction or a way to tire me out for her to land a critical blow. Either way, they are just a sideshow."

Down below and as the two came closer, the bigger of the pair called out to the specter. "Are you the Red Blade?" He asked.

Silba's specter turned its head to acknowledge them. "You are early," it said.

"We weren't expecting you to show." the big one continued. "Not yet, at least."

"And yet I am here nonetheless," the specter answered. "Neither of you look the type to write in flowery cursive, so where is your boss?"

"Our goddess is coming," the Faunus said. "We just came early to make sure you were," he giggled, "properly accommodated."

"How kind of our host then." Silba instantly decided she didn't like him. She could recognize a chained attack dog when she saw one. A barely sane killer, kept tight on a leash and only let loose when the leash holder had a point to prove or really wanted someone dead. Him being there was like a rancor being displayed by a Hutt to petitioners. "Pray that I do not have to wait long then," the specter said dismissively. "I suspect it would not do good for any of us."

As if on cue, something else floated into the clearing from the direction the pair had come from. Again, Silba instantly recognized it. It looked to be another of the jellyfish-like Grimm, identical to the one she had slain in that hidden lab days prior. She remembered seeing a glimpse of a face in the orb as she killed it, and thus the pieces began to fall into place. So, it is a form of communication then? Clever.

Her suspicion was almost immediately confirmed. The Grimm's orb-like body glowed and its movements stilled, the legs turning rigid and immoble as the creature settled onto the ground. A billowing black smoke, eerily similar to her own, issued forth out of the creature, and also like hers coalesced into a form all its own: a pale woman, clad in an archaic black dress.

Silba's first impression was one of unease, at seeing a technique she had mastered over decades being used so casually and easily. And more bizarrely, she sensed no usage of the Force there. The only distinct adept-presence she felt was her own, which seemed to imply that there was something else at work there. To see someone else using a technique so similar to hers was unsettling to her, and if the appearance was merely coincidental, then it would have been quite the coincidence. Silba almost wished that Salem had been of the mind to attend in person, if only to probe her being properly and in depth.

Weiss too had become unsettled, shivering at the sight of the pale woman. At second glance, Salem's skin wasn't merely pale but alabaster white, so translucent that black veins were clearly visible through her skin. The sclera of her eyes were pitch black, blood-red irises scrutinizing the specter's ancient Mandalorian mask. Her hair was done up in a style that Silba couldn't quite place, but likely a style that was old all the same. Silba could almost understand why Ozpin would have been apprehensive of the woman, if she made a first impression like that. Even in the absence of enhanced senses, the woman could come off as frightening.

"Is that… her?" Weiss whispered.

"It seems like it," she replied, returning her focus to the meeting below.

"Greetings," Salem's apparent specter spoke to her own. "It's good to finally meet you face to face. 'Red Blade,' I presume?"

Behind its mask, the specter narrowed its eyes. "It is," the specter answered with a nod. "And you are?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" Salem asked. "I am Salem, Queen of the Grimm, and the rightful ruler of this world."

"An interesting title," the specter replied. It looked to her two henchmen, before returning its gaze to Salem. "Quite the entourage for a simple face to face meeting, would you not agree?"

"Oh?" Salem raised an eyebrow. "Ah. If you mean Hazel and Tyrian here, they're merely present as a precaution. After all, we wouldn't want Ozma's minions snooping around, would we?"

Ozma. So that is most likely Ozpin's alias after all. "How… thoughtful, of you." Silba flexed her power, and two more specters stepped out from behind the ruined wall and walked toward the first, the Taskmaster to its left and the Inquisitor to its right. "Nevertheless, it would be rude of me to leave you to shoulder by yourself the burden of ensuring the security of this meeting."

Salem said nothing in reply, but Silba noticed a quick irritated glance at the now named Hazel and Tyrian. The two henchmen in turn shifted and looked around nervously, wary of the two newcomers and any other people lurking about. Salem nodded at Silba and put on a smile that did not reach her eyes. "But of course, Red Blade. Far be it for me to decline an offer to make things even more fatal for any of Ozma's lackeys."

The Inquisitor and Taskmaster took up flanking positions to its left and right, mirroring those of the now-named Hazel and Tyrian. The specter nodded, "Indeed."

"With that said, would you like to use a proper name? While conversing by title can be useful, it can also be cumbersome. I suspect it would be prudent for both of us to be on a first name basis, wouldn't you agree?"

Silba considered that for a moment. She needed to give a name to Salem, and hiding behind a dramatic and silly nickname typical of the media's nonexistent naming abilities only weakened her image. However, using her real name was not a good option either. She was not acting as an agent of the Empire, nor was she in power anymore. She could not carelessly throw around her name uncaring of the consequences. As if to validate this decision, she felt a twinge of warning from the Force when she considered telling Salem her name. That settled it then. She would use an alias, one she had used quite a few times during her time in the broader galaxy.

"Grey," the specter said. "You can use that if you wish to. So, what is the reason you sought a meeting with me? I was expecting violence, not peace." The specter cocked its head, moonlight glinting off of its narrow visor. "I still am, mind you."

Salem gave a hearty chuckle at that. "Grey, I feel that we have gotten off on the wrong foot. After last night when you fought his minions in Vale, I realized you truly were not one of his wayward pawns but another player of sorts. And despite any misgivings you might have of me, I am hoping we can come to an understanding of sorts."

For a moment, the specter was quiet as Silba's mind raced. She was going to have to be careful here, and extremely careful at that. She was having a conversation with one of her own world's established players, albeit one that seemingly worked from the shadows. Salem was claiming to be the Queen of the Grimm. Capital Q. What Silba sensed had been left unsaid in that introduction was that Salem was the only Queen of the Grimm. How long had she been around? The Grimm had been a fixture on Remnant since, or perhaps before, the earliest surviving records. Has Salem also been around since then? Such a feat was not unheard of, and she could name quite a few Sith lords who had managed something similar in some form or another. Did Salem do something similar? Was she responsible for the ancient ruins, including the one they were currently standing in?

"Perhaps we can," Silba eventually chose to reply with.

"Excellent," Salem replied with a nod. "I must admit though, you have made quite the explosive debut by going to such lengths to thwart my subordinate. Did you by chance have a personal grievance against her?"

Is she grasping at straws, or does she know something? Silba also took note of the past tense Salem used. It would have been a shame if she'd dealt with Cinder before she herself had gotten the chance to. Regardless, she chose her next words carefully. "As impressive as it was, I cannot claim credit for that explosion. No, that was entirely your subordinate's doing. She fired an arrow at the Dust and used the explosion to escape."

"Did she now?" Salem's projection narrowed its eyes. Silba smiled. So she still lived. Good.

"It is just a guess, but perhaps she panicked upon seeing me carving my way through those White Fang scum?" Here, Silba's specter affected its best Imperial sneer, calling on old memories of some of the various Moffs she had once had the displeasure of meeting. And what was best, was that she was not even lying there either. She had made short work of the White Fang manning the warehouse, and while she sympathized with the Faunus, that sympathy did not extend to those who had a hand in causing the Breach. And while she was not one to brag about taking lives, it could serve as a misdirection. After all, it was easier to believe someone was targeting the White Fang, rather than a particular individual who by all accounts had been keeping a low profile.

"How interesting. Are you saying the White Fang were your target that night?"

"They were." They were a target. Seizing the opportunity, Silba added, "I will just say I was doing a favor for certain… interests." Those interests being everyone who would have died or had their worlds shattered if the White Fang and Cinder had been allowed to continue unimpeded. And if Salem took her words to mean Atlas, the SDC or some human supremacist group? She could hardly be blamed for such a conclusion. After all, she was telling the truth… from a certain point of view.

"I see."

Silba doubted that Salem did.

"Of course, I did not expect the White Fang to be willing to work with humans, let alone for humans. Then again, you do not fit the definition, do you?"

"Most astute. No, I am something less than human, but also something more." Salem seemed lost in thought for a moment, before snapping her attention back on the specter. "And how about you?"

Silba thought about what Salem had said. It was disconcerting, to say the least, for Salem to so readily admit that she had lost her humanity. It also confirmed some of the unease she had felt when seeing the projection. Of course, she herself hadn't survived so long without prudence, and she was not about to change that now. "And what is 'human', I wonder? If a man loses a limb, and replaces that limb with an artificial one, does that mechanical limb make him less human? How about an organ? Is there a point at which one is no longer a man and becomes a machine? I am me. Nothing more, and nothing less. I consider myself human and ultimately that is all that matters."

"Well, that is as good an answer as any." A beat passed in silence, and a thin smile came to the Grimm Queen's face. "Speaking of questionable humanity," it was her turn to ask, "Have you ever heard of King Ozma the Hero?"

"You keep saying that name," the specter spoke, "Do you speak of the Headmaster of Beacon? His name is similar, but I have not heard that one before."

"I thought not." she said with a chuckle. "It's a story largely forgotten to time. Ozma was once a great man, powerful and kind. He had much knowledge of the history and mysteries of the world, and stood for justice as best as he could. He even found a woman who loved him and started a family with her, and together they ruled a kingdom side by side. For a time, he and his kingdom had peace. But peace was not what he wanted. He wanted more. Perhaps he sought conflict, or perhaps it was a lack of glory. One day, his wife caught him trying to take their children with him on a dangerous adventure. They quarreled, and in his anger, he struck her down as well as their children. Since then, he has taken many names. You may have heard of his time as the Great King of Vale. In his current life, he calls himself Ozpin and fancies himself a teacher. It's almost… endearing."

Silba's mind screeched to a halt. What did she just say? "What do you mean by 'his current life'?"

Salem laughed. "Only that it is one of his best kept secrets. Each time he dies, he goes on to possess some new poor soul, convincing them over time that they are one and the same as he consumes everything they are, mind, body and soul. It is a flawed immortality, but it is immortality nonetheless."

For a moment, time all but stopped for Silba. A few of her questions had just been answered.

And of course it would be Sith at blame.

Silba, days prior, had sat across from the Headmaster. She had talked to him, had let him rope Ruby into his web of conspiracy or so he thought. The only explanation that Silba had for what Salem had just described, had just explained to her, was the dark technique of Sith Transference. A dark, selfish art, and one she never saw any value in.

Ozpin was a Sith. And, in a roundabout admission, so was Salem.

Kriff.

Did either of them know what she was? Did Ozpin suspect? Did Salem? Silba no doubt would have disturbed the Force with her return, the same way she had at the time disturbed it with her arrival on that desert panet centuries ago. And despite all of the precautions that she had taken, there would have still been a brief window when her presence, and more importantly her location, would have effectively been broadcast to local Force-sensitives.

Was this the cause behind the week she had? Thinking back on it, the week since her sudden return home had been more bizarre than when she had lived it the first time as Ruby. More had happened in a week than what had happened in whole years of Ruby's life. Finding a secret lab that was connected to Salem, finding that Bitch, Ozpin suddenly warning her of Salem's interest in her, running into Ozpin's enforcers and then Salem's sudden invitation to a meeting. If Ozpin and Salem were Sith, then could it be that they already suspected her as also being a Force user? She had taken care during this meeting to hide any uses of Force powers, but that was no guarantee that Salem did not know. Pretending to be unaware of another's tricks was a classic tactic, after all.

And Ozpin. When they had met back in that tower to discuss Salem, the man had been downright pleasant and amicable. In fact, delving back into Ruby's memories, he'd never been anything but. Nothing in his mannerisms or his demeanor struck her as being steeped in the Dark Side of the Force. On the other hand, so had her master's master been to him, once upon a time. She thought about what Salem had just told her about the man. Yes, he was unusually young for a man in his position. But he was apparently a prodigy of his generation, much as Ruby had been of hers, though his cumulative experience could explain much of his "talent."

And if what Salem had said was true, then he was also the one who founded the current Huntsmen Academies, which for almost a century had been churning out young men and women to fight Grimm. Come to think of it, despite the Academies, there had not been much, if any, success in reclaiming territory from the Grimm for long. She was suddenly reminded of the similar nature of the Clone Wars, how hundreds of thousands of clones and at least hundreds of Jedi died in a carefully staged war that saw no side gaining a significant advantage over the other.

Silba recalled how Amber had talked of the powers of the Maidens being based on magic, but those had been Ozpin's words, and not Amber's. And while the Force could very well be called magic by narrow-minded people, it was fundamentally an established and reasonably understood phenomenon. Then again, it was possible for one to independently discover and hone their own Force techniques, and there had been precedent she had known about in her time. And if Salem and Ozpin had lived as long as Salem was suggesting, they would have more than enough time to perfect Force techniques that seemed… magical.

Silba frowned. It was actually enough to give her a headache. Thinking of Amber again, she recalled what her Apprentice had told her some nights ago about what she had become, how she had become some sort of vessel for these Maiden powers that had been passed onto her. Said powers had made her a target the moment she had gotten them. Thinking back, Silba had sensed something at work within Amber, but it had been fleeting, ephemeral to her senses.

She returned her focus to Salem. Silba probed the apparition standing across from her double with the Force, and as she expected, she sensed nothing at all. The Salem before her was something akin to a hologram, wholly a product of the strange jellyfish-like Grimm. In her own current state, the effective range of her Scry-sight was not enough to find Salem's location. More worryingly, her attempts at probing for the real Salem kept sliding off the Apparition, almost as if…

No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

"I'm not surprised you might have fallen silent for a moment at that. Quite a surprise, is it not?"

Silba had let the silence drag on for a moment longer than appropriate. Perhaps a faux pas to some, but Salem seemed to allow it to slide as it were. "Forgive me if I doubt your claim. Unless, of course, there is more to it."

Salem sighed. "If I were physically present, I would ask Hazel to help me demonstrate. After all, he has tried harder than most to kill me." She glanced over to the larger of the two men, who averted his gaze. Silba assumed there was more there that was left unspoken. Glancing at Hazel, she got the scattered impression of a beloved sister, of intangible threads of a desire for revenge. But that was all she could glean at that moment. "I could have even let you try and kill me, if you so wished."

Silba didn't reply to that. The woman was either crazy, suicidal, or, more disturbing, telling the truth. It could have been a combination of all of the above, but it would be unbecoming of her to accuse Salem of the first two here. Regardless, she spoke with such conviction that it wasn't a lie, not to her at least. If Ozpin and Salem were really immortal like Salem claimed, that would complicate things. And if they were delving into dark arts they poorly understood? Silba would deal with them when the time came. It wasn't because of Bane's rule that she had sworn off, or because of some archaic and outmoded notion of rivalry, but because they put her world in danger with their petty squabbling.

"Immortality is quite the party trick," Silba eventually said. "How did you gain it? Or more accurately, dare I ask, what cursed you with it?"

Salem laughed. The normal and human action almost caught her by surprise, when coming from something that was anything but. "Now, that is a story for the ages," Salem chuckled. "And one ill-suited for a late night such as this."

"I am sure." Silba suspected that her counterpart would act cagey about the true nature of the source of her apparent power, but not asking about it would have seemed more suspicious to someone like Salem.

"There is one other thing I am curious to know," Salem asked, her visage turning serious. "Why did you attack Doctor Watts' lab?"

Silba's specter cocked its head. Salem was talking about that hidden lab, the one she had gained her lightsaber from. Thinking back, another version of the Grimm that Salem was now using had also been in the lab. It clearly had a communication function, and she also remembered the shadowy impression of a face within that orb, right before she had destroyed it. Had Salem eavesdropped on Silba's chat with the late Sith Lord? And if so, how much of it?

"You mean that secret little science lab?" Silba's specter answered dismissively. "I had almost forgotten about that. I presume that this Watts is another associate of yours?"

"In a way," Salem explained. So, he was just another henchman then. "You stole something from him, and I do believe he would like it returned."

The specter chuckled. "I am sure." Her specter's hand went to its webbing, detaching its faux lightsaber and igniting it. To their credit, both Tyrian and Hazel didn't react to her apparently hostile action, nor did Salem's avatar. "A fine weapon, isn't it? Powerful, but it exacts a price from its user."

It was almost imperceptible, but Salem actually flinched. Silba recalled that mental image Bane had showed her, of another hand reaching for the blade. Only to be flayed alive by a blast of Force lightning, before the corpse was hurled across the room.

"Only those worthy may hold it," the specter explained as it extinguished the blade and returned it to its webbing. "If Watts wishes to have it returned, I may hand it back to him. If he is willing to hold it, of course."

"I will pass along the message." Salem sighed. "I was wrong about you, you know."

"Oh?"

Salem chuckled. "Indeed, this night was most productive."

"I see. Is this the part where you offer recruitment or threats?"

Salem smirked. "Nothing so crass, Grey. When you do join my cause, it will be because you choose to, not because you are forced to. Well, I should go. I suppose I just wanted to meet the one who had been causing so many waves lately."

The scorpion Faunus snarled. "That's it? We came all the way here just for a little meet and greet?!"

Even as a projection, the glare Salem directed at Tyrian immediately silenced the Faunus. Looking back at the masked figure, Salem smiled. "I suppose I also wanted to confirm something. And I did. We will meet again." And with that, Salem disappeared into a cloud of black mist. The jellyfish-like Grimm shuddered and died, and it too evaporated to nothing.

Silba's specters turned and walked away, disappearing out of sight behind the ruins. Silba dispelled them all once they were hidden from view. Had either of Salem's lackeys sought to pursue any of them, they would have found to trace, nor of any quarry to be had. Hazel and Tyrian shared a glance, before they too turned and left the clearing, going back the way they came toward their waiting mounts. The mini-Nevermore was the last to leave, the creature taking flight and soaring toward the wilderness.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

"Well, that was horrifying."

"Quite."

Silba and Weiss had remained there on the ledge, long after Salem and her minions had departed. Silba had watched them fly back the way they had come by Nevermore. Even then she felt uneasy, and several times she Scryed her surroundings, looking for any voids or distortions in the Force that were the tell-tale signs of Grimm lurking around. There were none thankfully, but one could never be too careful.

"So, that was her," Silba said. "That was more or less what I expected."

"What did you expect Ruby?" Weiss asked her.

"In regards to the Grimm having a central authority? I am not quite sure Weiss, but it was not that." Salem's parting words had upset her. Silba had played this game of song and dance numerous times throughout her life, and she understood every bit of hidden subcontext that had been communicated to her. In short, Salem knew what she was, or at least very strongly suspected such, and had made plans to recruit her. If Silba had been the sort of person to baselessly speculate, she could have even envisioned Salem trying to manipulate her into killing Cinder, in the same manner an aspiring apprentice would slay the current. That exact situation had occurred with her own master, when he unwittingly cut down and replaced Dooku.

Or it was all a bluff, one meant to throw her off-balance, to force her to use too much caution or to react too slowly in response to any of Salem's own moves. Or perhaps it was a double bluff meant to make her too reckless if she called Salem's apparent bluff. Kriff, this was more irritating than any of my dealings with Tarkin.

"So, what do we do now?"

We, Silba noted. "I take it that you are with me?"

"Yeah," she said. "I… This is a whole lot. And after thinking about it, I don't really think I'd feel comfortable, you know…"

"Telling on me?"

"Yeah," Weiss nodded.

"Well, for what it is worth Weiss, I am glad you are willing to trust me." Silba stood up and cast one more look toward the space below before turning away. "So, what do you want to do now?"

Weiss was quiet, for a long moment. "I don't know Ruby. I feel like the whole world's been tossed upside down. All on the same day, I find out that the Grimm have a leader, and the Beacon Headmaster isn't who he says he is, and my partner is now a three hundred year old Empress of the universe."

"Just the galaxy."

Weiss scowled. "I've pinched myself several times over the course of the last few hours just to check to see if I'm not dreaming."

"A top would be more useful."

"Wh- A top? Ruby, what are you talking about?"

Silba sighed. "Never mind, I will tell you later." She looked back up at Beacon. "We should probably start heading back."

"Yeah." Weiss led the way, and she followed.

"But Ruby, to answer your question? I don't know."

"Hm?"

"I… I need to sleep on all this," she explained. "And… What are we going to tell Yang and Blake?"

"Do not worry about those two, Weiss," Silba reassured her. "When the time comes, and it will very soon, I will tell them everything." Silba had had a couple of her questions answered, but she now had a lot more. For starters, Salem and Ozpin. Or 'Ozma,' as Salem had called him. They were clearly both very powerful and entrenched players, whose game she had been wholly unaware of in her past life until far too late, and had stumbled into in her current one. Who were they really, and why their feud and rivalry? She suspected they were Sith, but why remain on this world, unknown and hidden from the wider galaxy?

And then her lightsaber, and by extension the handful of kyber crystals. They remained a minor concern, but it was a concern all the same. How did it end up on Remnant? And who or what put them there? To an outside observer, it was almost as if they had been placed there deliberately, metaphorically left right in front of her for her to all but trip over. Other questions, such as the subject of the Maidens, the alleged magic they possessed, and these Relics that seemed to be pieces in play all landed atop a pile of unknowns that Silba very much wanted known.

Silba sighed. Not for the first time, she wanted to tear her hair out in frustration, but she resisted the urge to vent by breaking things with the Force. Letting the Dark Side take control was childish, however cathartic it might have been. The Jedi were definitely onto something, using meditation to work through conundrums like these.

Silba smiled, her mind made up. It had been a week since she'd last done so.

The two of them returned to the dorms in silence. It was trivial to slip by the night watch, and her companion just shrugged and nodded when, at her insistence, they simply walked past the two faculty members at the main entrance. Weiss was becoming inured to her weirdness, which was a good thing, though it also meant she would have fewer reactions to enjoy.

"Are they still awake?"

"Our teammates?"

"Yeah."

"No, they are fast asleep."

"Are… 'we'?"

"If you mean our doubles…" Silba trailed off, focusing on her last two active specters and dispelling them as they approached their dorm room. "Not anymore." Thinking back earlier, neither Yang nor Blake had noticed anything amiss with their teammates, or at least not the fact that they were essentially puppets on strings.

"You should clean up," Silba told her partner as they entered their room. "And get some rest too."

"What about you?"

"I will go after. It will give me some time to myself."

"Okay." Weiss stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Silba alone for the first time in hours. She pulled out a chair from one of the desks, and in the darkness of the room sat down to think. After Weiss had fallen asleep, she would meditate then for a few hours in the quiet of the bathroom, as she did that night she woke up. She had a lot to meditate about.

- - ----====| | |====---- - -​

Spoiler: A/N

6.8K words. Seemed shorter to me, to be honest. Well, I hope this meets folks' expectations.

 

[AwooTheWanWan]

huh i dont know why but i dont like this chapter I'm not sure what I dont like tho

 

[Shadedancer]

She had a lot to meditate about.

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Well. The question now becomes if the gods are force deities or if what happened back then was a little different than what the stories say. Oz doesn't think of himself as Sith and the transference is unwilling, but we don't know how close an eye the gods keep on current events. If they existed to begin with here.

 

[jason1stlegion]

And of course it would be Sith at blame.

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So the gods are Sith, then? Or a pair of powerful Sith and Jedi from the older parts of the SW timeline?

 

[Firedon]

So the gods are Sith, then? Or a pair of powerful Sith and Jedi from the older parts of the SW timeline?

Click to shrink...

They could just be gods. Or something else. To me it looks like Silba jumping on the chance to cram something she doesn't understand/know into a framework that makes sense for her, even if it might not be correct.

 

[shinkicker444]

They could just be gods. Or something else. To me it looks like Silba jumping on the chance to cram something she doesn't understand/know into a framework that makes sense for her, even if it might not be correct.

Click to shrink...

I never watched Clone Wars, but wasn't there some sort of creature (or creatures?) sealed in the centre of the galaxy that was basically a force god?

 

[LostArchivist]

Interesting view. But whether she is actually correct about that is another question...

Clearly, Force-based stuff is present here, but whether that's what Ozma and Salem are using themselves... Plus, both sets of abilities were forced on them (no pun intended), so how much control they have over said abilities is also uncertain...

 

[landcollector]

I never watched Clone Wars, but wasn't there some sort of creature (or creatures?) sealed in the centre of the galaxy that was basically a force god?

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I think you're referring to Abeloth?

 

[Fetad]

I think, that Ruby should have became much more "weary", after learning about "another Sith Lords here". I mean, yeah Salem wasn't present "in flesh" but such limitations haven't stopped Darth Vader from chocking via holo-communication. And since those "shadow clones" were somehow "part of her", there is a risk that she could be traced back by stronger/older "colleague"...

 

[Videocrazy]

huh i dont know why but i dont like this chapter I'm not sure what I dont like tho

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On a general guess, the feeling that Salem came away learning a lot from this meeting, while us readers got maybe-answers and more questions at best?

That's what it feels like to me, anyways. I won't say I disliked the chapter, because I did like it, but I did come away from it feeling unsatisfied. Well, that's life, I suppose.