Spike groaned as the floor rushed up to meet his face once more, and he instinctively flailed out with his left arm, only for the mechanical limb to overcompensate and hit a table, knocking it flying as it continued around on its course and slammed into Spike’s face just as he landed on the floor again. Warnings flashed up over his new mechanical eye as Spike flailed his arms and legs, trying to tell his limbs to be still.
“Stay back, I have no idea what they’re doing,” Spike grunted, glaring at the offending robotics.
“You’re overthinking things, General,” the nearby doctor said, making sure to stand well back from him. “Your brain knows how to work your limbs: stop fighting it and let it treat them like your old ones. Otherwise you’ll over-compensate, then your brain will over-compensate for the over-compensation and -” he cringed as yet another crash echoed round the room, Spike slamming into the floor once more. “And that will happen general.”
“This isn’t right,” Spike groaned, forcing himself up with his one remaining biological arm and standing up, swaying unsteadily. “Nothing feels like…” he was cut off again as he took a step forward, before overbalancing. Trying to stay upright he tried to move faster, only succeeding in running headfirst into the wall and falling backwards, a new crater present in the wall. “…me anymore,” he finished. “I want to pant, I want to feel my heart racing at doing this. Hell I want my voice to break because I’m tired. I don’t even feel my heart beating anymore.”
“It will take some getting used to, General,” the doctor nodded. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. Now, take it slowly and stand up. Don’t think of your limbs as anything different than they were before. Trust me.”
Spike tried, he really did, and even managed to get to his feet once again before taking a hesitant step forward. Looking down he saw the black metal of his leg and instantly willed it to move at the same time as he subconsciously took a step forward. Both actions together meant Spike’s leg extended far more than it should have and he executed a full split as he collapsed to the floor again.
“Fuck my life.”
***
Spike slowly formed a fist in front of his face, listening to the soft noise of the servos as they brought his new fingers together into a single mass of dense, dark metal. The only flash of colour came from the retractable claws that had been built into the hand, made from the same material, but in a stark white like his organic claws on his other hand, matching the razor sharp spikes on his forearms, both organic and metal. In an effort to make him feel like his new arm was more like his old one, they had offered to put sythi-skin over it, but Spike had refused. The arm wasn’t his, and he wasn’t going to kid himself otherwise.
Standing up, and still swaying slightly, Spike got a better look at the rest of his body, looking at the mirror than had been provided for him. The majority of his body was now the same dark metal as his arm, black lines showing him where the extra armour plates had been affixed to give him more protection from incoming enemy fire. The modifications had not stopped there however, and there were now certain parts of him that hadn’t been there before, the four large metal spikes on the end of his tail for example.
Slowly moving his tail around, Spike inspected the new appendage with a smile. Losing this had been a reality check for him, losing his body had just been a bigger one. Now that he’d got it back in some form or another, he felt more like himself. Not perfect, he doubted he’d ever feel that way again, but he didn’t feel as hopeless as he had before cyberniesis. That, and he now had a reason to hold on.
Bending down, Spike picked up his personal datapad, before recoiling slightly as words flashed over his mechanical eye. Sighing, he remembered what the doctor had said about being able to interface with technology, and sat down heavily on the bed, the reinforced metal frame screaming in protest at his extra weight.
Slowly, Spike began to scroll through the contents of his datapad that were now being projected in front of him by his new blood red eye. He mused that if anyone could read perfectly backwards, they’d be able to see exactly what he saw. Finally he reached what he was looking for, stopping on the newest entry to the datapad and reading the letter from Twilight once more.
While he had been in surgery, Tarhal had very carefully scribed the entire scroll onto the computer, before sealing the scroll itself in an airtight cylinder to protect the original copy. It was a small gesture, but the impact that it had had on Spike was massive, and he was reminded just how much he owed his hairy friend.
He was still re-reading the letter ten minutes later when Tarhal walked in, closing the door with a soft click behind him and looking over at Spike. Spike took a few seconds to register that he was there, before shutting down the projection of the letter and looking over at Tarhal. Instantly he saw a crosshair settle over Tarhal’s head, and he quickly looked away.
“What was that all about?” Tarhal asked, cocking his head quizzically as he approached Spike.
“Still getting used to things,” Spike muttered, very carefully raising his hand as his claws slid out.
“Impressive.” Tarhal sat beside Spike, resting a hand on his right shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Alive,” Spike replied simply, clenching his fist slightly quicker than he meant to. “Just, not alive enough.”
“Can you not just be happy to be alive?” Tarhal chuckled.
“Oh god I am Tarhal, I’m really grateful to you for finding me and the docs for patching me up,” Spike said hurriedly.
“There’s a but though,” Tarhal pointed out.
“But? What but? There’s no but.”
Spike pushed himself to his feet and unsteadily walking towards one of the windows, stumbling at the end and putting his hands out to stop himself, his claws digging into the walls and anchoring him there. Growling, Spike tugged his arms backwards, only to find his claws stuck tight and his shoulders sagged. Sighing heavily, Spike rested his head on the window and closed his eye, his left eye going dark.
“Are you stuck?” Tarhal asked, stifling a laugh as he walked up beside Spike.
“I’m a lot heavier than I was before,” Spike replied, not opening his eyes. “Like I said, still getting used to everything.”
“Such as?” Tarhal pressed.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Spike groaned.
“Hey, your average psychiatrist is going to charge you two hundred credits for an hour long session like this,” Tarhal grinned. “Me, I’ll take ten. Later, if you’re feeling magnanimous, I’ll still take ten.”
“I’m not paying you anything you vulture,” Spike snorted, opening his eyes slowly. “Alright let’s see. I’m heavier than I used to be by a lot, which is saying something considering I was already a…”
“Fat bastard,” Tarhal finished for him.
“Harsh but true,” Spike grunted, giving his hands another tug but staying stuck. “I’m not moving like I used to, apparently I’m overthinking things.”
“No change there then at least.”
“Are you going to keep interrupting me or are you going to let me finish?”
“I’m going to keep interrupting you.”
“Fuck you,” Spike smirked. “I don’t need to breathe like I used to. My heart doesn’t need to beat to pump my blood around. And you want to know one of the worst parts? I will never scratch my balls again or whack the sausage.”
Tarhal’s laugh echoed around the room as he slid down the wall, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Really?! That’s what you’re worried about?! Wanking?!”
“Hey, you don’t know what you have until you lose it,” Spike shot back.
“If you say so Spike,” Tarhal managed in between chuckles, looking up at his stuck friend. “But you’re still not very good at lying. Why don’t you tell me what’s…”
“Stop playing the psychiatrist!” Spike roared, ripping his hands free and pulling parts of the wall with him. “And don’t talk to me like I’m a Padawan either. I was the first one in Nexu to be knighted remember? And I’m older than you, remember that.”
“I remember it Spike,” Tarhal assured him, hurriedly getting to his feet and backing away slightly. “Just, settle down Spike. Don’t let the rage take you.”
Spike snarled as he glared at Tarhal, before his features softened and he shook his head, dismissing the crosshair that had returned and sheathing the claws on his hand and feet before sitting down heavily on the floor.
“You didn’t deserve that,” he whispered softly, before looking up at Tarhal. “Did you know my right tear duct was destroyed in the heat of the explosion? That my left one had to be taken out for the cybernetics to work properly? I want to cry, but…I can’t.” He didn’t sound sad, his voice staying almost perfectly emotionless, but his one remaining eye told a different story, even as he tried to hide it. “That’s almost as depressing as not being able to do this.”
Spike lazily rose his arm and pointed at his datapad, willing it to rise, only for it to stay exactly where it was.
“Still nothing then?” Tarhal asked.
“Not even a twitch.”
“Well in some cases the loss of a large amount of flesh can…”
“I know,” Spike sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, recalling what he had learnt in the temple all those years ago when he was still a padawan. “In the case of a large amount of biological material, the midi-chlorian count can be severely diminished to the point where the force can no longer manifest in the individual. In most cases the midi-chlorian count returns to close to its original number after they have had time to multiply again. But sometimes, not always, but sometimes… they never come back. They don’t come back and the Jedi becomes just like anyone else.”
“Spike, even without the force, I highly doubt you’re going to become like everyone else,” Tarhal snorted. “Plus, you don’t just have the force remember?”
“I know,” Spike nodded with a slight smile, getting to his feet. “And yes, magic. I know next to nothing about it, save for what I remember from Twilight’s speeches and what I’ve pieced together from the doctor's notes on my ‘napalm gland’ and ‘magic gland’. Maybe it will be like the force and is recessed due to the loss of so much of my body, maybe it’s tied to my emotions. I really don’t know. But I do know one thing.”
“And that is?” Tarhal asked.
“That this war isn’t going to end itself, and if I’m going to help it along it’s not going to be from a hospital bed bitching about how bad my life has become,” Spike finished matter-of-factly. “So, we’re going to find Revan, link up with the Special Forces and I’m going to fight. And when I find Cassus Fett, I’m going to punch him so hard that his ancestors’ heads will roll off.”
***
“The last few pockets of resistance have been found and eliminated, and supply convoys are already heading here to resupply the army and head out to our deep space fleets and colonies,” a military aide explained, consulting her datapad as she spoke to the assembled military high command that was left on the planet. “Additionally, we managed to capture a few of the new Mandalorian tanks that have been fielded against our forces and have sent them back to the core for examination by our engineers.”
“And the archives beneath the Jedi Tower?” Malak asked.
“The Mandalorians were trying every trick in the book to break the encryptions on them, but as far as we could tell they were unsuccessful,” the aide replied. “They did however place their own encryption over our own to make it harder for us to open the system again, as well as releasing a virus into the software. We have our best programmers working on it as we speak, but progress is necessarily slow. We’ve been delaying the virus as best we can, flooding its code with random bits of data, but if we rush we risk it latching on to the higher draw of our decryption attempts and target the more important data.”
“Proceed slowly then,” Revan ordered. “We can’t risk losing the information stored within the archives. That’s now your priority, do you understand?”
“Yes high general,” the aide nodded, consulting her datapad as a small ‘pop’ emanated from it. “One last thing, apparently general Spike would like an audience with you at your convenience.”
“At my convenience?” Revan asked with a slight chuckle. “That may be the first time Spike has asked for a meeting rather than just barging in. Maybe someone should have blown him up years ago.”
Revan stood up, his cloak billowing out behind him for a split second as he looked between the generals and Jedi who had sat in on the council. “If there is nothing else, this council is dismissed. Return to your units and await movement orders. And send Spike in.”
The various war-council members slowly filed out of the room until only Revan and Malak remained, the former looking out of the large window towards the ruined top of the Jedi Tower, while the latter was still sitting at the table, looking through his datapad with a quizzical look on his face.
Revan turned around just as the door opened again, allowing Tarhal to enter, followed swiftly by Spike. Even though Revan had known exactly what the new bionics were going to look like, he still let out an involuntary gasp as he saw them first-hand and working, a fact that was not lost on Spike, who managed to crack a smile.
“So how bad is it? I haven’t managed to find a mirror to look at my face yet.”
“It’s bad, but then you always were ugly,” Revan shot back. “Paint them purple and no one will even notice the difference.”
Spike smirked as he approached Revan, towering over the man as he thrust his right hand out for Revan to shake. “Thank you for this Revan. And I guess I’m sorry for the whole fight thing after I lost my tail. And to think, I thought that was going to be the low point of my week.”
“How little you knew,” Malak added, looking at Spike with an impassive glare.
Spike looked down at Malak as the man got to his feet, his gaze meeting Malak’s and holding it. It wasn’t hard to feel the tension between the pair, even as Spike extended his hand out towards Malak as he had done to Revan. “Yes, how naïve of me.”
“It’s good to see you up and about once again Spike,” Revan’s voice broke the two apart, shattering the tension between them. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I have half a tonne of metal inside me,” Spike shot back.
“Not too far off is it?” Revan smirked.
“I'm fairly sure it's more like seven tonnes of metal and a quarter tonne of flesh,” Spike shrugged.
“Fat ass,” Tarhal muttered.
“Fur ball,” Spike shot back, sticking his tongue out.
“The pair of you are Jedi. Act like it,” Malak snapped.
“If I acted like a Jedi, I wouldn’t be here,” Spike pointed out, glaring at Malak, before turning to Revan and lazily saluting. “General Spike, reporting for duty.”
“It’s good to see you back Spike,” Revan nodded. “Are you sure you’re ready for active duty? You have just got new limbs.”
“I’m a fast learner, and I’m going to go stir crazy if I stay still.”
“Does mean your psychological issues won’t get sorted,” Tarhal muttered under his breath, ensuring that Spike didn’t over hear him, but Malak nodded his approval, giving Revan a meaningful glare.
Revan caught the glance, looking between Spike, Malak and Tarhal, before letting out a short sharp sigh. “Spike, from experience I would say that you should take a back role in the war until you’re ready to fight properly again.”
Revan braced himself for the inevitable roar of disapproval, as well as the agreement of Malak, and raised his hand to stop Spike in his tracks. “But. I also believe that doing so would be a waste of your potential, and that if we’re talking experience, only Tarhal has as much as you. I’m not going to hold you back, what I am going to do is send you to meet up with the Special Forces on Taris’s Rogue Moon for re-training in harsh environments. Take command, reorganise them how you see fit and get them ready to see combat. You lead them on raiding actions, but I want to keep you in reserve for the big battles. I’ll tell you when the time comes.”
“Well then, I guess I should get to work,” Spike nodded, looking to Tarhal. “And Tarhal?”
“I had planned on sending him to take command of a front line unit to serve under General Surik, but I suppose I could move deployments around, I do have a backup leader for the unit after all. It all depends Tarhal, which would you prefer?”
“Special Forces,” Tarhal answered without hesitation. “Have your backup take over the unit, I’m going with Spike.”
Revan nodded knowingly. “I didn’t really expect anything less. I’ll be in touch, Spike.”
Spike and Tarhal turned and left, walking towards the hanger bays of the military headquarters, leaving Revan and Malak alone once more. Malak stood beside Revan as the pair stared out the window, watching in silence as the ships came and went from the planet, ferrying the troops across the galaxy to yet another warzone. Taris had been an important step on the road to defeating the Mandalore, but it was only one battle, and if they weren’t careful, they could still easily lose the war.