//------------------------------// // The Deal // Story: The Dragon and the Force // by FenrisianBrony //------------------------------// Spike and Herank glared at each other, the air between them almost crackling with the hatred they both felt for each other, before they both dived forward at the other one, snarls and screams of rage gracing their lips. Herank had once been a deadly opponent for most, able to kill with her bare hands in a variety of ways, not to mention the weapons she was known to have secreted around her person. The years had not been kind to her however, age and the lack of people to hone her skill against dulling her once fearsome prowess. Spike on the other hand had every advantage, height, size, strength, training, and most of all, experience. It wasn’t even a fight, Spike catching Herank in mid-air, a claw catching her around the throat as he slammed her hard into the prisons wall, holding her almost four feet off the ground as he brought back his other claw, balling it into a fist. “Go…on,” Herank snarled in between gasps, her one arm slapping weakly at Spike’s iron grip. “Finish…what you started…slave.” “I was never, and will never be, a slave!” Spike roared, ready to strike Herank from this life, only stopping when Seugtai grabbed hold of his arm. “Hold, Spike. This is Herank Kalia? The crime lord?” he asked, looking between the pair. “Lady,” Herank growled at him, before glaring at Spike again. “Got yourself a new master then, eh? A Mandalorian? Didn’t your Jedi friends fight a war…” She was cut off as Spike let out a roar, throwing Herank from him, the frail old woman impacting with another wall and letting out a cry of pain as she slid to the floor, Spike rounding on Seugtai. “She was a crime lord, she was a slaver, once, she was dangerous, now all I see is an old woman,” he pushed the datapad into Seugtai’s chest as he spoke, the Mandalorian taking the computer pad without fuss. “You deal with her, and the rest. I’m going to check our way off this force-forsaken rock.” With that, Spike turned on his heels and stalked off down the corridor, Seugtai also turning and walking towards Herank, the old woman struggling to her feet as he approached. “You’re an idiot,” Seugtai remarked as she got up, the word brining a snarl to Herank’s lips. “I will not be spoken to…” she began. “You’ll be spoken to however the hell I decide to speak to you,” Seugtai cut in. “You are not in command here, and angering Spike is a sure way to ensure that you never get out of this place. Now, to business. You are Lady Kalia, once a fearsome force in the Outer Rim, yes?” “I thought you already knew that,” Herank sneered, but nodding at the same time. “Yes, that’s me, I had a nice little Empire, until Spike and his bastard Jedi friends saw fit to end that.” “Do you still have friends on the outside?” “I don’t see why that makes much of a difference,” Herank scoffed, before feeling Seugtai’s eyes drilling into her, even through his helmet, and she quickly nodded. “Y-Yes, people will have remained loyal, even after all this time.” “Then you’re coming with us,” Seugtai nodded, more to himself than her. “We will check these other cells, then meet up with Spike at the shuttles. Oh, and Herank?” “What?” the old lady growled. “If I find that you’re lying to me, or that you don’t have the contacts you think you still do, I won’t bother stopping Spike next time. Am I clear?” “Crystal,” Herank deadpanned, before trailing after Seugtai as he moved to the next solitary cell. *** Spike waited until he out of sight and earshot of the solitary wing, before his composure broke and he slumped to the floor, resting his head against a wall as his chest heaved, feeling like he was struggling just to breathe. “Why…did…it…have…to…be…her?” he gasped, Moonstone appearing on que and standing before him. “Spike, calm down, it’s been a long time since you last saw her,” Moonstone pointed out. “Besides, last time you beat her, and you’ve only gotten stronger.” “Memories don’t fade though,” Spike pointed out. “Oh come on, we both know you’ve endured and then refaced far worse than her,” Moonstone laughed. “So come on, tell me what’s wrong.” Spike looked at her, before nodding, forcing himself to slow his breathing back to normal levels before replying. “That mission…that was a long time ago. A time where everything made sense…Solaris was alive, Norik was there…T…Tarhal…Tarhal was there. I can deal with things when it’s just the memories, I can handle that. But seeing her in the flesh…and having to work with her? I don’t know how well I can cope. And if she mentions Tarhal…no matter he’s done…he’s still my brother, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from tearing her apart.” “Spike, I have every faith in you that you can control yourself,” Moonstone smiled softly. “You beat the monster inside of you, and unlike most people, that’s not a metaphor. You actually beat him, at the expense of a mountain range.” Spike couldn’t help but smile as Moonstone started giggling at her own words, pushing himself to his feet. “You’ll find a way through this Spike,” Moonstone assured him. “You always do.” “As you always find words to pull me from the dark corners from my mind,” Spike laughed, before setting off once more at a lope towards the shuttles. The shuttle bay was huge, housing ten separate ships, each one capable of housing one hundred prisoners in separate cells, and equipped with both high powered deflector shields, and high powered particle shields. They would comfortably take a volley of Turbolaser fire without compromising their movement ability, and their Hyperdrives were likewise geared to work under the worst conditions. The Republic had spared no expense in making sure that any prisoner transfers from the Black Cage would have minimal risk of being subverted or captured on route. Of course, if the someone was able to get to the shuttles in the prison, then they were a lot easier to subvert. The rest of the prison was now firmly under the control of Spike and his men, the gladiators freeing prisoners, leaving those who would not follow them behind in their cells. The shuttle bay however still had the last hold outs of guards in it, the men and women taking cover behind hastily erected barricades, firing at anything that tried to enter the hanger. Scores of dead and wounded already littered the doorway, a few of Spike’s forces firing blindly around the door, trying to keep the defender’s heads down. “Report,” Spike called as he approached, pulling the double ended mace from his back and twirling it in anticipation of the fight to come. “There’s at least forty of them,” a gladiator called out. “All armed to the teeth and have switched to lethal force. I don’t know if we can do this non-lethally.” “Give me a moment,” Spike muttered, waving his men away from the door, standing out of sight of those inside and raising his voice. “My name is Spike, I want a ceasefire with those holding the hanger bay, so we can talk and move the wounded. Do you accept?” For a moment there was nothing, the last few blaster shots blaring out from the defenders, before a voice rose above the others. “How do we know you won’t kill us?” “I give you my word,” Spike replied. “If that’s not enough, then I’m afraid this may come to blows.” Again, the room beyond the door went silent, Spike wondering if they would be open to negotiations at all, before the man called out again. “Ok, you can come in, no weapons. You can send some men in to pull back the wounded, but they better not have weapons either. Ok?” “Yeah, alright,” Spike called out, dropping his weapon to the floor with a loud clang, before rounding the door and striding into the hanger. True to the gladiator’s word, there were around forty guards, all armed with blaster rifles and huddling behind makeshift barriers, barrels and containers. It was hardly an iron fort, but it would be costly for his men to take the defenders head on. As he approached, a hushed whisper shot through the crowd, a woman walking to meet Spike, a mixture of fear and rage written across her face. “So you’ve come…” she began, Spike cutting him off. “Look I’ve heard the ‘you’ve come back’ speech from the commandant already, don’t give it to me again. I’m here to talk to you about surrender.” “Surrender? We have the hanger,” the woman pointed out. “And I have more men, weapons, soon convicts who you’ve kept locked up will also be joining me, and we have me,” Spike deadpanned. “You can’t win this, and if you keep trying to fight, I can’t guarantee that you’ll survive. Put down your weapons, and you will. You even have the option of joining me, and doing some good. A prison ain’t a prison without prisoners, and currently any who will follow me and rounded up, any who won’t follow me, and being out down. They are too dangerous, and I have damaged the prison too much to risk just putting them back in their cells. So, last chance, put your weapons down. Now.” The assembled guards murmured with each other at Spikes words, a few half raising their guns, and for a moment Spike was sure that this would end violently, before there was a clatter as a man dropped his gun. No one moved as the man slowly walked out from behind the barricade, before the spell was broken, and the floodgates opened. One by one, the defenders threw down their weapons, standing behind Spike and looking at the woman, her gun now pointed squarely at Spike. “You’re all traitors to the Republic,” she hissed, Spike sighing at her words. “No they’re not,” he grabbed her gun as he spoke, moving faster than the eye could see and crushing the barrel in an iron grip. “I will ensure your survival, but I can’t risk you stopping us.” With a wave of his hand, Spike sent a stream of magic directly at the woman. For a brief moment, his mind and hers touched, her memories and his intertwining, before she fell backwards in a peaceful sleep, Spike catching her and slowly lowering her to the floor, before looking towards a guard. “Put her on one of the small ships and set it to autopilot, she’ll wake up when she’s there, and we’ll be long gone.” A few of the men nodded, carefully lifting up the woman and carrying her towards one of the single man escape ships as the gladiators and freed prisoners began to enter the room, some of the ex-prisoners casting angry looks at the guards, before Spike turned to address them. “These guards are not to be touched, nor are the ex-prisoners. You are all now comrades in arms, and if I hear tale of anyone striking another member of our collective, I will rip their arms off myself. Do I make myself clear.” There was a general murmur of approval, Spike turning away from them to look at the shuttles. “Begin boarding and reprogram the ships, the slicers in the control room will do the rest. I’m done with this world.”