The Dragon and the Force

by FenrisianBrony


A little Reprieve

Spike sighed heavily as he looked out of the front view port on the bridge. The rest of the ship was filled with people, mostly dock workers who were helping to repair Harmony and get it back to operational standard. Most of the crew was enjoying some much needed down time on Eres II far below, but not Spike. The only part of the ship that was empty was the bridge, and Spike was glad for it.

Harmony didn’t have a proper med-lab, just a holoprojected droid doctor and a few different medical remedies, but nothing anywhere near a proper bacta or Kolto tank. Spike knew he could have easily been transferred to the planet for medical treatment, or even to one of the other ships left in the fleet, but he’d refused every time someone tried to move him from Harmony.

Every scar that was on his body was a reminder of how close he’d come to death down on Eres III. One inch to the left, a tiny bit deeper, and Spike wouldn’t have needed medical treatment, he’d have needed a morgue. As bad as the scars were though, they were nothing compared to Spikes new armour. Spike sighed again, before reaching up and tapping the metal around his head.

When he had melted one of the droids plates and head-butted it, he had managed to finally break through the armour that had resisted almost all of his other attempts to break through it. It had allowed him to finally get back the momentum against the droid and actually win, but he had also gotten a lot of the molten metal over his head. He had thought he’d be able to just take it off, or even melt it again, but he’d soon found out that Mandalorian Iron lived up to its legend of being indestructible. So now he was stuck with it, at least until he could find another lava pit to go and swim in, something he had no time or ability to do now.

Harmony, what’s the status on the ships repairs? Captain level authorisation.”

Affirmative Captain Spike, inloading repair status diagnostics. Diagnostic loaded. Engine one fully repaired, engine two continuing to run at full capacity, engine three currently undergoing repairs, operational status of eighty seven percent. Shields array repaired and operational. Weapons systems and targeting array awaiting repairs. Hull armour fully repaired. Life support systems have been looked over and are still operational. Communication array repaired and operational. Total progress of ships repairs: ninety four percent.

“I want to be alerted as soon as the repairs are finished. And open a line to the planet’s surface, I want to speak to Tarhal.”

As soon as the words were out of Spikes mouth, the holocommunicator flared into life.

“Hello? This is Jedi Knight Tarhal, who’s speaking?”

“Tarhal it’s me,” Spike cut in. “How are things with the men?”

“They’re good Spike. They’re having a whale of a time down here. There are some pretty good bars, you should come down.”

“I’m not coming down Tarhal,” Spike shook his head. “I need to oversee…”

“No you don’t Spike,” Tarhal cut in sharply, his growls taking on an almost predatory tone. “You and I both know that you aren’t needed to oversee the rest of the repairs. You’re up there because of the scars.”

“I look hideous for one, and I’ve got metal fused to my head, I think I have enough reason to be a bit pissed off,” Spike grunted.

“Maybe, but I think being pissed would be more fun, don’t you agree?” Tarhal chuckled. “Come on, as a friend, I’m asking you to come down and get drunk with me. Cortez is here too, you can catch up with him outside of battle at the same time.”

“Fine, if you want me to,” Spike sighed. “I’ll be down later, I need to send a message off to Revan first about what happened here.”

“He already knows, we sent off a mission statement,” Tarhal assured him.

“Yeah, but I want to speak to him, plus there’s someone else I need to speak to right now.”

“Who?”

“Just an old friend Tarhal, I’ll be down later, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that Spike. Tarhal out.”

Spike chuckled softly, before turning as he felt a presence in his mind.

“Hey Moonstone,” Spike smiled, running a hand across her face, before slipping through the projection as he remembered it wasn’t there.

“You know you can’t Spike,” Moonstone smiled.

“Yeah, but I can still try can’t I?”

“Yes you can,” Moonstone nodded, resting a hoof on his chest and letting it slide through him. “So how are you feeling Spike? I know that you took the battle hard, but you still won.”

“Yeah we won, but…”

“But nothing. Did you drive the Mandalorians back? Did you save the early warning system?”

“Yes but…”

“So you therefore completed the mission that Revan gave you. You won, the Mandalorians lost, that’s all there is.”

“That’s not all there is!” Spike roared. “Have you seen Eres III?! It’s an inferno, one end of the planet to the other! I lost the planet! Who knows how many soldiers didn’t get on the ships in time!”

“It’s not your fault!” Moonstone roared back, shocking Spike by the sudden change in tone. “Did you start the fire?! Did you stop any soldiers from reaching their transports?! The Mandalorians are to blame, and they’re all dead, none of their ships escaped the planet. They lost, you won. End of story.”

Spike stayed silent for a long time, looking at Moonstone in slight apprehension, before nodding slowly. “Well, I have to admit you came with your guns loaded Moonstone.”

“I won’t see you blame yourself for this Spike,” Moonstone insisted. “You did everything you could to stop it, but you can’t win them all.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spike sighed. “Fine, let me call Revan, sort some things out, then I’ll go down to the planet and find Tarhal, okay?”

“Yeah, that will be good Spike,” Moonstone nodded, beginning to fade. “I’ll be seeing you Spike, just remember what I said.”

“Yeah, I’ll remember,” Spike smiled, before leaning back over the holocommunicator. “Harmony, open a channel to Revan.”

Error, Revan’s communicator is currently unavailable.

“Fine, just open the link and let me leave a message.”

Affirmative. Link open. Begin recording message.

“Revan, this is Spike, reporting in. The Mandalorians have been routed from the Eres sector on Eres III. The fleet actions incurred minor loses amongst the fleet, namely three Hammerhead Cruisers, and the Mandalorians managed to force a landing on the planet. There was a battle, and although we defeated the Mandalorians, the third army sustained moderate losses, as well as the loss of Eres III itself. The Mandalorians set light to the Xoxin plains as a final act of defiance. As of now we are refitting, repairing and recovering. I await your reply with new orders. Spike out.”

The holocommunicator went silent as Spike finished his message, its surface going dark as Spike turned to look back at the viewport.

Harmony. Boot up the communicator in my quarters, I want to take this call in there.”

With that, Spike turned and walked off the bridge, the door sliding closed behind him. As he walked through the ships corridors, he was forced to duck underneath metal scaffolding and dry dock workers as they sought to bring the ship back to operational status. Many of them nodded his way, but even more averted their gaze, not wanting to look at him with his horrific helmet. If he ever wanted to be seen as anything more than a beast, he would have to find a way to get it off.

Finally, Spike reached his quarters, slipping inside and activating the code-lock on the door, making sure he wasn’t going to be disturbed. Sighing, he sat down on his bed, activating the terminal beside it and typing in a few commands, before watching as the holoprojector in the room flared into life, the blue sparks coalescing into the form of Solaris.

“Solaris,” Spike smiled softly as he looked at his aging master.

“Spike? Is that you?” Solaris asked with a smile of her own. “By the goddess, what happened to you? The scars, and that helmet, it looks like ass. You can take your armour off Spike, you are on Harmony after all, safe ground.”

“There was a battle on Eres III recently,” Spike sighed, before tapping his head. “As for this, metal is much harder to get off once its solidified again.”

“Oh Spike, how do you get into these situations?” Solaris shook her head. “You clearly won though, else you wouldn’t be up here. What happened?”

“We lost the planet,” Spike mumbled. “It’s burning from one end to another and I couldn’t do anything.”

“And you’re blaming yourself?” Solaris summarised. “It’s a hard one Spike, and I know you’ll take it badly given half a chance. If I was there I would offer the usual solution and take you to the Ultra Ray again, but as I can’t…”

“I’m heading down to the planet to meet Tarhal and the others at a bar, so I’ve got that covered,” Spike smirked. “But still, you were always closely linked to the military. Did…did you ever make mistakes Solaris?”

“War is full of mistakes Spike,” Solaris sighed. “Every time we fight it’s a mistake. It means that at some point, somewhere, something went wrong. But yes, I have made my fair share of mistakes Spike, and they’ve cost lives, both soldiers and civilians. Civilians, they’re harder to accept. Soldiers are prepared for it, but civvies? That’s what’s hard.”

“How do you get past it then?”

“Because we have to,” Solaris shrugged. “We are Jedi Spike, protectors of the galaxy and figureheads to the entire Republic. We can’t show weakness, even though we are just people. We must be strong, to keep the Republic strong. If the Jedi can falter and fall, why should the armies be able to stand in our place?”

“Numbers?” Spike offered.

“Numbers don’t win a battle Spike, you know that.”

“No, but they really do help Solaris,” Spike chuckled.

“Yeah, that they do,” Solaris laughed. “I’m sorry to have to cut this short Spike, but I have a ship to catch. Apparently a senator has discovered a crime cartel on their home world and wish the Jedi to come in and help to resolve the issue.”

“And considering the fact that you’re going, I assume ‘resolve’ is probably going to be violent?”

“You know me Spike, always ready for anything,” Solaris chuckled. “Now go have a beer on me Spike, and don’t let Eres III weigh too heavily on you. Solaris out.”

Spike stared at the space where Solaris had just been, contemplating what she had just said, and trying to come to terms with what he had agreed to with both Moonstone and Solaris. Both of them knew him, and knew that he was going to blame himself for this, and he knew that he would too given half a chance. He always strove for perfection, and when he didn’t, he panicked and took all the blame, even if it wasn’t his fault, and no matter how much he knew it was one of his biggest flaws, he could never shake the feelings entirely.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Spike began to make his way towards the hanger and the shuttle nestled there, his mind turning cold as he felt the final part of his mind pushing towards the surface.

You could have let me take the droid. Desolations voice sounded slightly annoyed, as if he were trying to pout without any face to show emotion on.

“Yeah, I could have let you,” Spike reasoned under his breath. “But you can’t get all the big kills can you?”

It’s fun isn’t it? Desolation murmured happily, his voice somehow penetrating Spikes mind even more than usual. Big kills always are.

“Killing isn’t fun Desolation,” Spike pointed out, emerging onto the flight deck.

Oh come now Spike, we both know that’s…

“Period,” Spike replied firmly. “You like killing, it’s what you do, but for me I do it because I have to.”

We both know that isn’t true Spike, Desolation whispered.

“It is true,” Spike snapped.

Because you were forced kicking and screaming to go to war, Desolation continued softly.

“I went to war to defend, not to kill,” Spike snapped, his voice rising, and drawing some odd looks from the people dotted around the hanger.

Revan offered you the chance to get back at the Mandalorians with support, and what did you say? Do you remember?

“It doesn’t matter what I…” Spike began.

Then I’d jump on that like Pinkie on a birthday cake, Desolation finished for him. Remember that? You weren’t forced to go, you didn’t have to, you chose to, because deep down Spike, you’re more like me than you are like Moonstone.

“I’m not,” Spike muttered weakly, sitting down in the shuttle and turning to the pilot. “I umm, need to find Tarhal. Just take me down to the planet and I’ll figure out where to go from there.”

“Yes sir,” the man nodded, before preparing the ship to take off.

Keep hiding it then, Desolation whispered. But deep down, you know that I’m right. We’re both Dragons after all, and she’s the little bit of pony in you.

“Don’t insult her,” Spike snapped, only to be met by nothing, as Desolation retreated back into the depths of Spikes mind, leaving only a soft chuckle behind him.

“You can be a real ass,” Spike muttered.

“What was that sir?” the pilot called back to him.

“Nothing, just get me planet side.”

“Aye sir.”

***

“Do you think he’s going to actually turn up?” Cortez asked, glancing at Tarhal as the pair stood on the outskirts of the Capital city of Eres II.

“He’ll show up, he doesn’t break many promises,” Tarhal replied.

“Right…so, was that a yes or a no?” Cortez asked slowly.

“You really don’t understand me much do you?” Tarhal chuckled, drawing a blank stare from Cortez. Sighing, Tarhal made sure to nod as he spoke. “Yes, he’ll show.”

“Oh good, I’ll defer to your knowledge of Spike then,” Cortez smiled.

“You’ve probably known him for longer than me,” Tarhal pointed out. “It was a shock when he came back to the temple to find me again.”

“Ummm…yes,” Cortez nodded.

“You didn’t understand any of that did you?” Tarhal sighed.

“Yes sir,” Cortez nodded again.

“I think this is a complete waste of time, but considering the fact you can’t understand me, I think I’m going to eat a half ton of chilli and fart my way to the mushroom planet,” Tarhal smirked.

“Really? I’ll be sure to do that sir,” Cortez nodded.

“Oh Cortez,” Tarhal laughed, before looking up and catching sight of a shuttle. “That looks like the shuttle from Harmony.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the shuttle,” Cortez nodded again, as the pair watched the ship land and the ramp slide down. “Moment of truth.”

The pair walked towards the shuttle as the ramp was enveloped in white gas, making sure that the pressure seal on the inside was deactivated before the door slid open. As the pair watched, Spike walked through the smoke, finally stopping in front of the pair and looking down at them, towering above even Tarhal.

“Thanks for the greeting,” Spike smiled.

“Ah, couldn’t let you get lost before getting to the bar now could we,” Tarhal laughed, before putting an arm round Spikes waist and pointing to Cortez. “You do realise he doesn’t really understand Shyriiwook?”

“What, at all?” Spike asked, slipping into Tarhal’s native language.

“Barely,” Tarhal replied.

“This could be fun,” Spike smirked.

“More so with alcohol,” Tarhal pointed out.

“Someone want to fill me in?” Cortez asked.

“We’re going to head to the bar now, get rat arsed, and then wait for Revan to contact me and tell us our next move. Sound good?” Spike began to walk towards the city, putting his arm around Cortez’s shoulders as the trio walked.

“Sounds like a very good plan,” Cortez smirked. “Better than when you took on a Lightsaber proof war droid your size anyway.” Tarhal snickered at this as well, before glancing at Spikes head and stopping himself from laughing.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it you two,” Spike sighed exasperatedly. “Just because I now have some scars and you don’t. Ladies love scars, or so I’ve been told.”

“They love them if the person who has them isn’t angsty about them,” Cortez laughed.

“And since when have you even had a sideways glance from ladies,” Tarhal joined in. “I mean, aside from your Jedi status, you haven’t exactly been forcing prospective women away.”

“Oh and you have?” Spike shot back.

“I’ve had lots of interest, just haven’t been able to follow through with it,” Tarhal chuckled. “At least I have interest though, you don’t have anything.”

“Whatever, laugh it up,” Spike sighed. “It’s not as if you can actually do anything with a lady.”

“Yeah, I never understood that,” Cortez piped up. “Why can’t you Jedi have relationships?”

“To be honest, I don’t know, mostly something about the council not wanting our priorities torn between a mission and family,” Spike shrugged, drawing an approving nod from Tarhal. “It started off as just a small sect in the old order, one that forbade emotional contact, and their voices have been growing louder since the Great Sith War due to the possible connections emotions have to the dark side. A load of bollocks really, but when has the council ever cared about that? Wherever there's three Jedi, there's one who thinks the other two shouldn't have any fun.”

“Atris,” Tarhal offered.

“Yes, the white bitch herself,” Spike nodded with a soft growl.

“So if you hate it…why do you you know, follow it?” Cortez asked slowly.

“It’s not quite as simple as saying no,” Spike sighed. “I mean if I wanted to, I think I could say no to the council, I’ve defied them on bigger things, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“It’s become prevalent in the order, even the code of the Jedi that most follow states that there is no Emotion, there is Peace. and that there is no Passion, there is Serenity. If we peruse emotions, we risk getting thrown from the order.”

“But, didn’t you risk that by helping in the war?” Cortez asked in confusion as the trio reached the bar and walked inside.

The bar was packed with soldiers and naval personnel, all cheering and drinking happily after the victory on and above Eres III. Spikes nose was immediately assaulted by the familiar smell of a bar, and he smiled, before making his way through the crowd.

“Yes we all defied the council to go to war,” Spike nodded, before looking at the barkeeper. “Three of whatever’s good.”

“Right away,” the man nodded.

“We defied the council on a very big issue, and one I’d be willing to get kicked from the order for, but for a relationship, it’s not worth it,” Spike shook his head, turning back to Cortez.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve never been in one,” Cortez smirked, taking one of the proffered mugs from the bartender and taking a large gulp.

“Oh, and you have?” Tarhal asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What’s he saying Spike?”

“He asked if you have had a relationship,” Spike reiterated.

“Nothing permanent, but a few,” Cortez nodded, before shuddering. “Why do you think I joined a deep space mission? I have an awful lot of bastards running around the galaxy.”

“Bastards?” Spike asked, cocking his head to the side.

“You know, illegitimate children, born out of marriage,” Cortez shrugged.

“How many children do you have?” Tarhal coughed as he exchanged a glance with Spike.

“How many?” Spike added in basic for Cortez.

“Six, maybe more,” Cortez shrugged. “Why?”

“And how many do you talk to?” Spike continued.

“None of them, that’s why I took a deep space mission, to get away from them.”

“Bloody hell, I didn’t see that coming from you Cortez,” Spike shook his head.

“Why, what’s the problem?”

“The problem? You have children running around the galaxy and you don’t even know about them. Don’t you, I don’t know, want to be a father figure for them?”

“Not really,” Cortez shrugged. “Father figures aren’t that important anyway.”

“Coming from someone who didn’t have a father figure, I’d disagree,” Spike shook his head. “Come on Cortez, aren’t you just a little bit curious about them?”

“Not really,” Cortez repeated.

“Come on, a bit,” Tarhal pressed.

“No,” Cortez snapped, before sighing. “You aren’t really in a position to be giving life advice Spike.”

“Hey, I’m still a Jedi here,” Spike warned him. “I technically out rank you.”

“Still true though, isn’t it sir?”

“Maybe,” Spike nodded. “But my problems all stem from me, not from my children.”

“Fine! If it will get you off my case I’ll try and talk to them, ok?”

“Thank you Cortez,” Spike smiled, finishing his drink.

“But in return, you have to stop moping around after every battle because a soldier died. Deal?”

“Done,” Spike nodded instantly.

“Yeah, that’s what I…Wait, what?”

“I said done,” Spike reiterated. “I promise to do my best to not break down over each death, but you have to try and get in contact with each of your kids.”

“Wow, I really didn’t expect you to be so…quick about it,” Cortez sighed.

“I’ve been having a long chat about it with some people,” Spike replied.

“Who were they then?” Tarhal asked, grabbing another drink from the bar.

“Oh you know, Solaris, and few others who know what I’m going through.”

“Oh, you mean Moonstone?” Tarhal nodded. “Your psyche still beating you in arguments then?”

“Leave my psyche out of this,” Spike smirked.

“What about your psyche?” Cortez asked.

“See what you’ve done now Tarhal?” Spike groaned, turning to face Cortez. “Don’t worry about it, let’s just drink up and have fun. I want to be drunk off my face if revan calls tonight.”

“How you ever became a Jedi with that attitude is beyond me,” Cortez smiled.

“Blame Solaris,” Spike smirked, before clapping his hands together and pointing at the bartender. “Keep ‘em coming, the stronger the better, as long as humans can take the stuff.”

“Got it, no Novanian grog then,” the man nodded, before walking away to get the first of many drinks for the trio.

“If we’re going to get drunk anyway, might as well smoke too,” Cortez smiled, pulling out a cigar and a lighter.

“You got any more of those?” Spike asked.

“Got a taste for them then?” Cortez smirked, tossing one of the small brown tubes to Spike.

“Yeah, kinda,” Spike nodded, breathing a tiny spark onto the end of the cigar, before chomping down on the end.

“How can you like that stuff?” Tarhal asked in disgust, wrinkling up his nose.

“I regularly smoke without a cigar,” Spike smirked, blowing out a ring of his own smoke to emphasise his point. “Might as well get the kick from this if I’m going to do it.”

“Whatever,” Tarhal shook his head, before grabbing one of the glasses of clear liquid that had just been set in front of the three. “Bottoms up.”

“Right behind you,” Spike chuckled, picking up his own glass.

***

“Urgh…what’s that beeping?” Spike moaned, cracking his eyes open and looking around the street he was in.

“Comm,” Tarhal muttered from beside him. “Why…are we outside?”

“Decided to…go for a walk,” Cortez chuckled.

“Just shut the beeping up,” Tarhal groaned again.

“Yeah, sure,” Spike nodded, before reaching for his communicator and holding it in front of his face. “This is Spihicke. What do you want?”

“Are you drunk Spike?” Revan deadpanned as he looked at the dragon.

“Maybe,” Spike chuckled, before concentrating on his head, willing the force and his magic to soothe his headache and reduce the effects of the alcohol. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and he’d be getting a much more intense hangover later on from it, but it allowed him to think clearly now. “Sorry, you got my message then Revan?”

“Yes, well done on stopping the Mandalorians,” Revan nodded, his face unreadable behind his mask. “But we have more important things to attend to. The Sixth Army suffered more losses than I predicted on Omonoth, but we took the planet. We’re moving to Taris now, but I need everyone for this attack. It’s going to be big.”

“The Third Army is ready, and the fleet is almost finished in the dry docks. I’ll get everyone mobilised and back to their ships,” Spike nodded.

“Good, meet me and the rest of the fleet in the Sargus Sector,” Revan nodded. “We’ll link up there, make our plans and then jump to Taris.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Spike nodded, before scratching his head, carving out tiny little groves in the metal around it.

“You need to get that thing taken off,” Revan pointed out.

“When you find a lava pit, a way for me to breathe fire on my own head, or a Mandalorian willing to give up the secrets to forging this stuff, you tell me and I’ll get it off straight away,” Spike smirked.

“Fine, point taken,” Revan nodded. “Just hurry with the army, I want to press my advantage, and the more we wait, the more they prepare.”

“Don’t worry Revan, we’ll be there,” Spike assured him, before shutting off the communicator and turning to face the others. “Come on guys, we need to get the army ready to move out. Next stop, Taris.”