//------------------------------// // One Shall Stand // Story: The Dragon and the Force // by FenrisianBrony //------------------------------// Seugtai had never been on board a Sith Interdictor Cruiser before, a fact that he was becoming painfully aware of as he turned yet another corner, being greeted by yet another identical corridor. The ship’s hadn’t been in full service during the Mandalorian Wars, though he had heard that the now traitorous Admiral Saul Karath had commanded the first of its kind in that hell, and taken it to Revan to replicate across the Sith Armada, another unanswered question of how that was possible in the few years between the two galactic wars. So far Seugtai had been lucky in those he passed, none stopping him as he passed, but like all things, that was about to run out. “Soldier,” a voice called out, Seugtai glancing around only to find he was the sole soldier in the corridor otherwise occupied by naval personnel and droids. Cursing under his breath he turned, coming face to face with a man wearing the stripes and uniform of a Naval Lieutenant. “Sir?” Seugtai asked, snapping off a salute and doing his best to remain calm. “What are you doing here trooper…” the man paused for a moment, scanning Seugtai before continuing, “55729? This whole area has been cleared of ground personnel by order of Lord Tarhal himself.” Seugtai stiffened at the name, if Tarhal had ordered this area cleared, it could be that Spike was within somewhere. “Apologies, sir, my comms must be faulty, I didn’t receive any order. I will leave immediately.” “See that you do,” the officer nodded, Seugtai saluting before turning and walking back the way he came. Sweat was beading his brow, but his tensions were lowering. He had found a lead now just to…” “Halt,” the officer ordered suddenly, Seugtai stopping almost mid-stride as the man walked up behind him. “Trooper 55729, I have you down as assigned to the hanger bay where the Jedi’s ship is being held. You reported in there over two hours ago, so how is it you are now here, with no knowledge of the general orders of the deck?” Seugtai grimaced beneath his helmet before sighing. “Well, guess it’s time for plan B.” Seugtai lashed out with his elbow, driving it backwards into the officers throat with enough force to make the man cough up blood. While he was reeling, Seugtai spun and drew the liberated Sith rifle from his back, placing three neat shots into the officer, two in the chest, one between the eyes. Before the man had even hit the floor, Seugtai was panning the rifle around, accurate blaster shots cutting down the naval crew and droids. A few were quick enough to unholster their sidearms, but none got off even a single shot before they were cut down by the Mandalorian’s crimson bolts. The whole exchange had taken less than ten seconds, Seugtai barely breaking a sweat as he swept the room one final time before deeming all hostiles were down, for now at least. Taking the time to better arm himself, Seugtai pulled the backpack he had been wearing off, placing it on the floor and pulling out weapons he was far more comfortable with. First was his Mythsaur axe, the fan blade of ancient bone made all the deadlier during the Mandalorian Wars with added power cells and a removable Phrik handle. Second was his Ripper, braids dangling from the handle, trophies of his worthiest kills. Both weapons had served him well during the Mandalorian Wars, a war where so many of his kind had modernised and standardised themselves, leaving behind the individuality that made them who they were for military efficiency. It had made them an army, but Seugtai was and always had been a Crusader, never losing that as he cut down all foes who faced him, soldiers and Jedi. Kicking the now empty backpack aside, Seugtai placed a single shot from his pistol into the rifle, ensuring it was beyond repair, before breaking into a run. A few strides into his run the lights flickered out, replaced with a dark red warning light and the wail of a warning klaxon. The cat was out of the bag now, time was of the essence. Rounding the corner once more, Seugtai saw a squad of five Sith Troopers approaching at a run, rifles at the ready. With a savage smile, Seugtai dived forward, in their midst before they could even react, his axe making short work of their armour. In a few moments the soldiers were down, Seugtai getting ready to move on before a dataslate caught his eye, a map open on its screen. Scanning the screen, a room jumped out at him, marked as ‘Incarceration and Interrogation’. Clipping the slate to his belt, Seugtai broke into a sprint towards his new destination. “Hold on, Spike, I’m coming.” *** Half an hour earlier *** Spike took a ragged breath, resting against the power field as it returned to a dull orange. It hissed and crackled, but compared to the torture field it was pleasant, and right now Spike could barely stand up. “You’re still tough, Spike, I’ll give you that one. After everything you’ve been through, you’re still the same uncrackable nut you were back when Nexu was all together,” Tarhal looked at Spike from across the room. “They were good times, before the universe got…complicated.” “The best,” Spike wheezed, fixing his gaze on Tarhal. “Had a lot of good times…when we were kids. Before Coruscant…before Duxn. So why don’t you just kill me…and cut Nexu down to two?” “Oh Spike, Nexu will be two, but it’s not going to be me and Zule left,” Tarhal purred. “No, when you see the truth of the universe, when you join me as my apprentice, we’re going to hunt down Zule and strike his name from our clan. And when Nexu stands together once more, we shall rise to rule the Sith Empire that Revan is so kindly forging for us. The Sith under our guidance will rule the galaxy, Spike, keep it safe. Isn’t that all you ever wanted?” As Tarhal spoke he flicked a switch on the control panel beside him, the field turning from orange to blue, the burning sensation stopping instantly, replaced with a soothing warmth that spread through Spike’s aching body. Tarhal approached the field, bending down to be at eye level with the hunched dragon. “I don’t want to kill you, Spike,” he murmured, compassion seeping into his voice, something Spike assumed the Wookie was no longer capable of feeling. “What I said on Vasdu is still true. The Republic is inefficient, the Mandalorian Wars showed us that. We should rule the galaxy together, as the Sith, as Nexu, whatever, it doesn’t matter. The Dark Side and the Light Side are just parts of the force, you know that, you’ve always been a Grey. The galaxy needs strong leadership, I will provide it, with you by my side or under my heel.” Straightening up, Tarhal headed towards the door, pausing as he reached the threshold to look back at Spike. “I’ll be back later, have your answer ready. I may not want to kill you, but I am more than willing to hurt you, Spike. You think you have felt pain before? I will make you wish you were back in the Exar Kun war.” With that, Tarhal left the room, Spike letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, resting against the pleasant forcefield, his mind slowing down till he was only just conscious. “Come on, Seugtai,” he muttered, looking towards the entrance, praying to whatever was meant to be watching over him that the next person through that door would be a Mandalorian, not a Wookie. Sitting in silence, he wished he could hear Moonstone, wished he could see her, but the fog of the collar made that impossible, and only served to hammer home just how alone he was. How ling could he hold up? If Seugtai failed, how long would it take for Tarhal to break him? And even then, would Tarhal even need to? His words had seemed…genuine, a sincere belief they could do good. Wasn’t that all that Spike wanted, all he had fought for since the day he was taken from his home? Spike was silent as he warred with his own conscious and morality. Half an hour later, Spike was still in silence, every answer he thought he came up with spawning a dozen more questions, and each of them a dozen more. He was ripped from his thoughts when a klaxon echoed across the ship, red lights coming on, bringing a small smile to Spike’s face. Either they were under attack, or Seugtai had switched into Plan B. Standing, Spike watched the door, determined not to be found on his knees if the Mandalorian entered the room. He didn’t have to wait long. With a loud rending sound, the metal lock of the door was sliced open, a devastating axe blow carving through the locking mechanism like it was paper. Sliding open, Spike saw a man clad in the armour of a Sith Trooper, but it was instantly clear he wasn’t a standard soldier, a pair of very Mandalorian weapons in his hands. “What took you so long?” Spike forced a smile. “You known I could turn the field red instead of off,” Seugtai pointed out. “Try it, I dare you.” Seugtai snorted, before pressing a button, disabling the forcefield and allowing Spike to take a shaking step out into the rest of the room. Before he had gone five paces, Seugtai was behind him, fiddling with the collar before pulling it into two pieces. It was like a wave hitting spike as his magic flowed back into him, almost knocking him over. When his force hit a moment later, a far smaller wave, Spike’s eyes were already glowing bright green, his body lifting off the floor slightly as his magic worked to purge all the impurities from his system. Lactic acid build-ups from his clenched muscles were purged in an instant, Moonstone appearing beside the pair. “Good to see you,” Seugtai nodded to the pony. “Same to you,” Moonstone returned the nod with a smile. “Spike?” “I’m ready,” Spike gasped, his voice echoing as if he was speaking in a cave, as opposed to a small room on a starship. “The ship’s being held in the hanger by locking clamps and a tractor beam,” Seugtai informed him, taking a sheathed vibrosword from his waist. “Docking clamps are easy to take care of, the tractor beam is harder to do. Has to be taken down from the bridge.” “Then we have a plan,” Spike nodded, landing on the floor once more. As he did so, Seugtai passed him the sheathed sword. “No idea where your weapons are, this will have to do though.” The sword, a longsword in the hands of most, was laughably tiny in Spike’s hands but he took it anyway, twirling it and feeling its weight before following Seugtai from the room. The pair were instantly assailed by a trio of Sith Troopers, blaster fire striking Spike as Seugtai dived for cover. With his magic restored, Spike barely felt the shots, letting out a roar as he threw the sword at the closest warrior, pinning him to the wall with a bloodcurdling cry. Wasting no time, Seugtai and Spike dived forward, an axe blade cutting one down, Spike’s fists caving in the other’s helmet. It didn’t take them long to reach the central lift going up the spine of the ship. Spike and Seugtai had both feared it would be locked down with the alarms going off, but Moonstone had convinced them to have faith, and as was often the case, she was right, the lift still purring with life. It was eerie for Spike, having all the hallmarks of a trap, but as Seugtai pointed out, they really didn’t have much of a choice. As the lift shot upwards, bound for the bridge, none of the three spoke. Seugtai was mentally preparing himself for a fight in the close quarters of a starships bridge, activating energy shields he had kept in reserve for emergencies, something this now qualified as. Spike and Moonstone however were contemplating the last time they faced Tarhal in battle, on Vasdu. The chances of him being on the bridge were almost one hundred percent, especially if this was a trap. Spike was weaponless and had recently been tortured, meanwhile the last time they had fought, Spike had lost an arm and a lung to Tarhal, only surviving by the barest of margins. You have greater control over your magic now Moonstone pointed out, thinking the words rather than speaking them out loud. And you’d been holding off the siege for a while. You’re fresh faced by comparison this time. It may be enough Spike agreed. We will see soon enough Even as he thought that, the lift came to a sudden halt, the doors sliding open to reveal the long bridge of the Stormheart, the blackness of the void, and the five occupants standing ready, weapons drawn but at ease. Two wore the crimson armour of Sith elite troopers, repeating blaster rifles clutched in both their hands. To either side of them were a pair of hooded figures, their gaunt features and the hilts they held in their hands marking them out as Dark Jedi, but it was the central figure Spike focused on. Tarhal, holding his Lightsaber in one hand, the two emitters seeming to itch to burst into life, to unleash death and destruction on those who stood before the Wookie. “So, who’s this then?” Tarhal asked as the trio exited the lift, Seugtai keeping his own weapons lowered for the time being. “Doubt your one of my troopers, they’re all loyal. Weapons are Mandalorian make but ancient. The axe is familiar though, it belongs to a great Jedi killer of the Mandalorian Wars doesn’t it? Is that whose hiding under there, hmmm? Rally Master Seugtai Ordo? You do keep strange company, Spike.” “And this…creature?” Tarhal continued, not giving Spike a chance to respond. “She reminds me of the stories you always told me, about your home. I doubt it’s actually the ‘mighty Twilight’, so who is it I wonder.” “Deactivate the Tractor Beam, let us go,” Spike spoke evenly, forcing himself to remain calm even as images of Vasdu invaded his mind. Before when Tarhal had spoken to him he had almost seemed sane, but now they were poised to fight, Spike could see the rage boiling behind his eyes, the stench of the Dark Side rolling off his body. “Am I to take it you don’t want to accept my offer?” Tarhal asked, feigning a pout. “So rude, Spike. After I cut off your arms, I’ll kill these two in front of you and turn you with pain, works for me.” “Try it,” Spike snarled, dropping into a combat stance. “So, it comes down to this again, Spike?” Tarhal asked, before reaching behind his back and tossing something towards the dragon. Spike’s eyes dropped to the object, seeing the form of one of his Lightsaber’s sliding towards him, the trio of blue gems set into the handle marking it as Elusive, the weapon he had lost along with his arm when they had last fought. Stooping down, Spike picked the weapon up, thumbing the activating stud, the white blade surging forth. Tarhal grinned, igniting his own Lightsaber, the brilliant crystal blade spanning between the two emitters, the Dark Jedi firing theirs alongside their master. “All I want is to be in charge, Spike, it’s simple, and you will not stop me here,” Tarhal grinned savagely, showing blood flecked fangs. “Besides, who would you be today without me?” “Let’s find out,” Spike snarled, barring his own teeth before diving forward. Spike was the first to strike, putting all his power into a powerful downwards swing, forcing Tarhal to grasp his staff in both hands, their blades crackling off each other. Spike could hear blaster fire and a ripper elsewhere in the bridge, but he couldn’t spare a glance around as Tarhal darted backwards, breaking the sabre lock before diving forward once more. Spike didn’t have time to think, no time to plan, all he could do was act, allowing his instincts and his magic to guide him. Tarhal was similarly acting on instinct alone, the pair matching each other blow for blow as if they knew where it was going to land before the other had even begun. Both of them were in peak condition for a fight, those blows that avoided Spike’s Lightsaber missing his body as he weaved away. They became a blur, Tarhal unleashing a stream of lightning from his fingertips, Spike managing to catch it on his Lightsaber blade before unleashing a gout of fire from his roaring mouth. Tarhal leapt over the flames, proving once again his mastery of Ataru. Extending his free hand, Spike called for his magic, the flames dancing to his tune and racing up his free arm, sheathing it in seemingly living fire. “You were always the strongest of us!” Tarhal roared, on the offensive now, driving Spike backwards. “Always the best of Nexu clan! We could be gods, but you want to stay a slave!” “I am no slave!” Spike roared, lashing out and overbalancing. Time slowed as Tarhal twisted out of the way, raising his Lightsaber to cut through Spike’s arm, just like on Vasdu. Spike tried to pull back but he wasn’t going to be fast enough, Tarhal letting out a victorious snarl as the blade connected. “Not this time,” Moonstone growled, her voice coming from Spike’s mouth. As the blade connected, a green film encased Spike’s arm, his eyes glowing bright green as he channelled his magic, or rather Moonstone channelled it for him. Tarhal’s Lightsaber skidded along the sudden surface, sliding off onto Elusive. Even with much of the force of the blow dissipated, the Lightsaber was still ripped from his hands, Tarhal and Spike stumbling away from each other as the Lightsaber skittered away from Spike. Spike looked down at his arm, the green glow receding as he felt Moonstone relinquish control once more. I thought you were never going to do that again Spike pointed out. I had no choice Moonstone countered We can beat him, but only if you let me help. I’ll handle the fighting Spike started. I’ll control the magic Moonstone finished. Together then? Spike asked. Always The whole exchange had taken less than a second, Tarhal already running forward, Spike running to greet him, Moonstone bidding the flames surrounding his left arm to jump to his right as well, sheathing both limbs in fire, his magic flowing to her tune. Spike was good with magic, but he had learnt by trial and error, and almost always had other things on his mind when he called it. Moonstone had no such distractions, utilising all the reserves Spike had. Tarhal swung his Lightsaber down hard, Spike bringing up a forearm to knock it away, Moonstone creating a energy field a split second before the two clashed, barely wider than the blade itself, protecting Spike while knocking Tarhal onto the back foot. Spreading his wings Spike leapt into the air, bringing both his hands down in an arcing hammer blow that had enough strength to dent the deck, metal melting at Spike’s fiery touch. Tarhal had barely avoided the blow but failed to see the tail swinging round behind him, Spike knocking him flying, the Wookie impacting hard with some consoles, smashing them beyond repair. His Lightsaber slipped from his grasp, Spike breaking into a run, crossing the bridge with a speed unobtainable for one not trained in the force, or the Equestrian magics. With a roar, Tarhal unleashed the full extent of his powers at Spike. He had always been strong in the force, using it to bolster his Lightsaber skills, but now he had tapped into the dark side that power had increased and found new outlets. Sith Lightning arced from his fingers, striking Spike full in the chest with more power than even the torture field had pumped into him. Moonstone went silent as she desperately fought to hold the shield between Spike and the terrifying power of the Wookie, drawing away the flames around his arms to bolster the new shield. “Tarhal!” Spike roared, managing to take a step forward, the shield faltering for a moment as he did. He felt scales peel away under the assault, only for Moonstone to cauterise the wound, setting his magic into overdrive to heal the wounds. “Just, give, up!” Tarhal roared, drunk on the power at his fingertips, his words coming out from behind gritted teeth. “Just, die!” “I know you’re in there!” Spike roared again, taking yet another step forward, approaching his brother. “Let me save you!” “You can’t, save, anyone! You, never, have! You let us, all die, Spike! Now, another Nexu, dies today!” Spike let out a roar of pain as a fresh wave of Lightning struck him, the shield Moonstone was holding opening for a split second across his chest. He felt his skin peeling away under the assault, exposing muscles and bones, his heart spasming for an instant before Moonstone closed the shield once more. “Don’t, make, me, do this!” Spike managed, tears forming in his eyes as he took the final step with a roar, coming within range of Tarhal and grabbing his wrists. Tarhal was strong, fighting against Spike and almost matching the dragon’s strength, almost. Spike pulled with everything he had, Moonstone pumping any magic not protecting him into his muscles. Tarhal resisted for a split second, before his left arm gave out with a sickening crunch, the shoulder shattering under the immense pressure. Tarhal screamed in pain, but it only seemed to intensify his power, fuelled by pain, anger and fear of what had to happen next. “I’m sorry!” Spike roared, tears flowing freely now, before he brought his now free right hand around, grabbing Tarhal by the neck. The Wookie’s eyes went wide for a split second, abject terror clear in them, before Spike closed his claws, the razor-sharp talons slicing through fur and muscle. Blood erupted from around Spike’s hand as he ripped backwards, dragging fleshy tendons with it. The Lightning stopped instantly, Tarhal collapsing forwards, Spike catching him as he fell. For a moment, Spike looked at the corpse, tears falling onto Tarhal’s fur, before he let out a scream, Moonstone trying to contain his magic, only to be flung aside, Spike letting his magic pour outwards, uncaring of what was in its way.