//------------------------------// // Another One Falls to Rise no More // Story: The Dragon and the Force // by FenrisianBrony //------------------------------// Spike was accustomed to pain, it plagued his every waking moment as his scars from a life of battle threatened to split open once more, and it haunted his nightmares when he finally slept, but what he was feeling now was different. True what was left of his organic body hurt, a dull ache setting is as adrenalin wore off. His cybernetics were not entirely without fault either, the harsh realities or real combat as opposed to small scale skirmishes caused them to pull at the joints, feeling like at any moment they might rip off, but it was not this that threatened to send Spike tumbling from the sky. No, that was clutched tightly in his claws, barely breathing and clinging on to life by a thread. “Stay with me, Corinna, stay with me,” he spoke softly. In a past life he may have panted, but now it came out as easily as if he was taking a stroll down a country lane. “Black…actual?” Corinna chuckled softly, not opening her eyes. “Did you…come up…with that?” “You just keep quiet and I’ll tell you all about it,” Spike replied, beating his wings harder, before pulling them close into his body and angling his feet towards the ground, slamming home and carving a setoff grooves into the ground with his claws. “My name is Jedi Mater, Spike, general in this army, and by that authority I need any free medical staff on call now!” he roared. “This is a priority one case, I repeat, Jedi down!” The result was instantaneous, soldiers dropping what they were doing and moving towards him. Those bearing the insignia of the medical corps moving the quickest, quickly assembling a stretcher from their backpacks and taking Corinna from Spike, deftly lowering her to the stable platform before moving off. Spike instantly tried to follow the doctors, but found himself swamped by soldiers, many of whom were cheering or trying to shake his hand. “It is an honour, General Spike,” one began. “My brother was on Eres, he saw you lead the charge. He said it was the stuff of legend.” “I saw you before the war,” another began as Spike began to try to push through the throng. “When you came to my world. You helped us then too.” “You saved my…” a third one began. “Get out, of my, way!” Spike bellowed, his voice deepening as his eye flashed yellow for the briefest of moments. “Spike,” a voice cut through the cries of shock, a hush falling over the crowd of soldiers almost instantly, as Spike turned to face the source of it. “Meetra,” Spike stared at the woman. “Please excuse me, I have to…” “The doctors have Corinna, but she will be being prepped for surgery,” Meetra pointed out, undaunted by Spikes obvious annoyance. “I have been informed of much of the situation by Tarhal, he tells me that her wounds are extensive. I must insist that you allow the doctors to do their work and not do anything that may jeopardise their aims.” “Jeopardise it?” Spike growled. “She is my friend. I would not do anything to jeopardise her life, even if it meant my own.” “And she is my general,” Meetra shot back. “One of my best. Her combat record and her strategic minds is one of the best under my command, so do not make the mistake thinking you are the only one who cares for her.” “She is a person you simple twat,” Spike roared, taking a step forward and towering over Meetra. “Do you think I give a fuck about her military record? Or if she can lead troops into battle or not? I can do that far better than her, so if that was all I cared about I would have left her to die. We have been on different sides of this war from the beginning, her and her brother, but she is my friend, and I will not speak about her as if she is military hardware. So do not ever think for a second that you care about her as much as I do. You are not Nexu, and I’ll be damned if I lose another one. Do you understand me?” “Perfectly,” Meetra nodded casually. “But, unless something has happened to change Revan’s mind about who is in charge of the siege of Duxn, I have command, and I would appreciate it if you did not move against my orders. I do not want to compete with you, Spike, I have a feeling that I would not win, but we are not here to fight amongst ourselves. Now, as you said, do you understand me?” Spike growled softly, before turning and walking away from Meetra. Ignoring the few soldiers that called out to him, he quickly strode to the edge of the encampment, spreading his wings and taking to the skies. He had only seen Duxn once before, with Revan, the trip feeling like a lifetime ago, and it hadn’t exactly been a sightseeing tour then either. Even so, it didn’t look like it had changed much, the trees were still dense enough that no light pierced through them, and the only difference visible difference was the columns of smoke rising from where they had just destroyed the Mandalorian artillery. Spike stayed in the air for at least ten minutes, looking out at the horizon, watching as a few Basalisk droids duelled with Republic fighters, some winning while others spiralled out of control, erupting into small balls of flame as they hit the jungle floor. Spike found himself strangely detached from the deaths, watching impassively as he tried to drive thoughts of Corinna from his mind. It was a battle he was never going to win. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself, his voice shaking as he looked upwards. “I’m…I’m so sorry.” “Then get down here and make amends,” Meetra called over the comlink, breaking Spike out of his trance. “My command centre is the large building, you can’t miss it. Meet me there when you’re done moping.” “So a couple of hours then?” came Tarhal’s voice. “Laugh it up, rug.” Spike voice held no emotion as he called back, before he turned and began heading back towards the republic base. Like Meetra had said, it was impossible to miss which building was acting as central command. While the building was large, Spike still had to duck inside the standardised building, calling up a map on his eye and following it until he finally found Meetra, Tarhal and a host of other Jedi and army officers. “That was considerably less than two hours,” Meetra pointed out, looking at Tarhal. “I’m just as surprised as you are,” Tarhal nodded, before looking at Spike. “We won, casualties weren’t massive and all our objectives were met.” “You did well,” Meetra nodded. “The attack would have failed without your intervention, and for that you have my thanks. Now we have to capitalise on the victory and press the Mandalorians hard. We can’t afford to let them regroup or this siege is just going to drag on.” “Well then, let’s hear it,” Spike folded his arms. “You do have a plan, don’t you?” “Part of one,” Meetra nodded, before indicating the map. “The Mandalorians are operating out of two main areas, the guns you destroyed made three. One of these areas is a large ring system of trenches a kilometre thick, which surrounds their main base. We don’t know how many men are left manning these areas but we expect just as heavy resistance as we’ve been encountering up until now. There is still intense anti-aircraft cover around the base, meaning we can’t bring in heavy bombers, and something is scrambling our targeting systems, so an orbital bombardment is out of the question.” “So the plan is to go in on foot?” one of the soldiers guessed. “My command is already down seventy three percent, I don’t know if I can sustain an attack on a trench system and still be combat ready to take the base at the centre.” “What other choice do we have?” Meetra replied. “By all accounts the base is still fully operation, broadcasting command and control organisation to every fleet in the sector. We can’t advance towards the Mandalore and Malachor system until we take the base, either destroy it, or even better, capture it.” “Alright then, let’s put all our cards on the table,” Spike nodded slowly. “We have a few new ships in orbit with newer targeting systems, maybe they’ll have success breaking through this interference and attack the base directly, plus we came in with twenty thousand of the toughest, meanest soldiers this side of the galaxy, depends on how many survived the drop on the guns.” “Oh great,” one of the soldiers rolled his eyes. “You have a problem with me, soldier?” Spike asked, his eye narrowing. “Oh nothing,” the soldier continued. “Just from what I’ve heard about you and your ‘Special Forces’, you’ve got some big, fancy, shiny, new armour, and you suddenly think that you can win this war all by yourself.” “Colonel, you should stop this train of thought while you still can,” Spike warned, clenching a hand into a fist. “Why should I?” the colonel turned back to face the other soldiers. “You’re all thinking it too, that these Special Forces are lording it over us. Just how long have we been fighting here for? How long? And they drop in and think that they are better than us. They think…” “I have dismissed a Colonel before,” Spike growled, pushing the man back. “Do I have to do it again?” “Spike, this is not your command,” Meetra cut in. “Please do not threaten to dismiss my officers.” “This is not a threat, it was a statement and a question,” Spike corrected her, before turning back to the soldier. “So, do I have to…” “Spike!” Meetra shouted. “I will pull rank,” Spike snapped back. “I do not want to, but I am a Jedi Master, Meetra, you are a Knight. I do not care if Revan put you in charge, this Colonel is out of line.” “Excuse me,” a medic knocked on the door, breaking the tension as every eye focused on him. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” “No, it’s fine,” Meetra nodded, glaring at Spike for a moment. “Some of us needed the interruption. What is it you want?” “General Thanos is awake, she is asking to see general Spike and general Tarhal.” Spike didn’t need to be told twice, pushing Meetra and the Colonel out of his way as he passed, hurrying after the medic. Behind him Tarhal shot an apologetic look at the rest of the people in the room, before following after Spike. Spike lopped alongside the medic, the man having to run full tilt to keep up with Spike’s leisurely pace, eventually bringing them to the field hospital and admitting them inside. Just like the command building, it was built on standard Republic guidelines, and Spike’s HUD quickly displayed an overlay map. A few moments later they stopped in front of one of the recovery rooms, the medic turning to face Spike and Tarhal. “Have the two of you been informed of her condition?” the man asked. “We only just knew she was awake, how would we know what state she’s in?” Spike scoffed. “Spike,” Tarhal placed a hand on his arm, before looking at the medic. “She’s in bacta I assume?” “No, we have her hooked up to a life support system and in bed,” the medic shook his head. “Her injuries are extensive. Burns, fractures on eighty percent of her bones structure, as well as whiplash. Normally we’d be preparing skin grafts as we speak…” “Normally,” Spike cut in, narrowing his eye. “We don’t have the supplies, the manpower or the time,” the man shook his head sadly. “We are overtaxed and any staff with combat experience has been drafted out of the medical corps to keep the front line intact. We’re losing over seventy percent of those brought in to us, so I won’t sugar coat it, her chances of survival are slim at best.” “Don’t ever say that,” Spike pushed past the medic as he spoke, opening the door to the room and ducking inside, Tarhal close behind him. Corinna was laid in the single bed in the room, wires and IV lines stretching from the machines and drip stands beside her, a soft beeping emanating from one of them. The rest of her body was almost entirely covered in bandages, most of them with patches of red covering them as blood seeped through. It did not take a genius to see that she was in a bad way, and right now, Duxn was probably the worst place in the galaxy for her to be right now. “H-Hey,” Corinna croaked, her eyes slowly moving to fix on the pair, her burnt skin cracking as she managed a tiny smile. “Y-You came?” “Of course we did,” Tarhal said softly. “Us Nexu guys have to stick together, don’t we?” “That we do,” Spike nodded. “Spike? By the force…I hardly recognise you…anymore,” Corinna shifted her gaze to Spike. “R-Remember when we were younger…when we were kids…at the temple? We had a name…a name for M-Master Norik…” She was cut off by a coughing fit, Tarhal quickly moving forward and pressing an oxygen mask to her face until she finally regained some modicum of composure. “Yes,” Spike nodded. “We did.” “Remember…Do you remember…what it was?” “Master tinman,” Spike replied after a few brief seconds of thought. “Among other, less nice names.” “C-Canned…meat,” Corinna chuckled, spitting a wad of blood onto her chest, before grinning through bloody teeth. “Y-You…You’re like…canned meat, in the form of a tank.” “When you get better, I may have to talk to you about your bedridden manners,” Spike shot back, managing a small smirk of his own. “I’ll hold you…to that,” Corinna coughed. “Yeah, we know you will,” Tarhal smiled softly, kneeling down beside her bed and gently taking one of her hands in his. “Now you just need to get better. Understand?” “Yeah,” she croaked. “You’re still soft Tarhal. How…How do you manage to keep that up in the war?” “I use conditioner,” Tarhal chuckled softly. “I’ll get you a bottle.” “Don’t…bother,” she coughed, sinking lower into the bed. “We all know, where I’m going, I don’t need, hair products.” “Don’t be stupid,” Spike shook his head firmly, taking a knee so he was at eye level with Corinna. “The only place you’ll be going is back behind Republic lines to recuperate.” “Spike,” Corinna began, only for Spike to cut her off. “And you’re going to get better…” “Spike.” “And when this war is over…” “Spike!” “We’re gonna talk!” Spike roared back, his hands clenching into fists. “You are not going anywhere. Do you understand me? You going to beat this. They can fix you…they can fix anything.” “Spike, are you…crying?” Corinna spluttered around a cough. “No,” Spike snapped, before his face broke into a frown and he lay his head down beside Corinna. “My tears ducts burnt out, we never replaced them.” “So, you can’t cry?” Corinna managed a smirk. “You want to?” “Shut up,” Spike choked. “Of course I want to. I know enough about Republic medical practice…especially in war zone like this. I can’t…I don’t…don’t give me another Asho.” “Spike, Spike,” Corinna cooed softly, resting a hand against his face. “It’s not like that, it never was. Asho wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t because she was following your orders, or because you weren’t prepared enough, or anything like that. Her number came up, that’s all. Now…Now mine has too.” “Don’t say that,” Spike shook his head slowly. “Please, Corinna. Please. We need to get you out of here…back home…safe.” “I can’t come with you, Spike,” Corinna shook her head, tears falling down her own cheeks. “You need to go…but I can’t follow you. I would…I would rest a while, then follow…follow, Asho. And fuck…the Mandalorians after death…in whatever afterlife they believe in.” “I am not losing you!” Spike roared, only for Corinna to place a finger on his lips and ‘ssh’ him softly. “I was never yours too loose, Spike,” she whispered softly. “I’m my own woman, my own Jedi. I chose this, even though I didn’t have to. You inspired me to do my part, but I chose to walk down the path. I knew the risks. And now? Now I’m reaping them.” “Don’t go,” Spike blubbered. “Please, Corinna, please don’t.” “I’m going to have to leave you, Spike,” Corinna groaned, “I’m walking a path…one Asho walked before me…one my brother, Tarhal, everyone else, will walk down at some point too. Even you, Spike…even you’ll walk it one day….way off in that long life span you’re always talking about.” “Shut up…you’re going to get better,” Spike continued to shake his head. “I’m walking down it,” Asho repeated, her head slowly turning to face Tarhal. “T-Take…c-care of him…f-f-furball. And I’ll see you both…again someday. When we’re reunited…by the force.” “Corinna? Corinna!” Spike bellowed, shaking Corinna. “Get back here! You’re not leaving me!” “Spike, it is over. She’s…she’s gone,” Tarhal whispered softly, placing a paw on his friends shoulder. Spike whirled around in an instant, venom in his remaining eye as his bionics quickly pulled up a crosshair in the centre of Tarhal’s forehead, his gun sliding into place as he pointed his weapon at Tarhal. He jabbed the barrel of his arm rifle into the centre of Wookies face, a soft hum emanating from the small generator as it began to charge the Tibanna gas within, preparing to launch a bolt at any moment with just a flick of Spike’s mind. “Over?!” He roared, before back-handing the Wookie with his organic hand, knocking him from his feet. For a moment, neither of them moved, save for Tarhal rubbing his chin, wincing slightly. Spike still glared down at Tarhal, the crosshair wavering slightly, before being switched off. Spike’s weapons retracted as he staggered back slightly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Tarhal…I…” he began, before the venom returned to his eye. “Prepare the men, full hazard gear, Eres III contingency.” “Spike, that’s for walking through fire,” Tarhal pointed out, slowly rising to his feet, making sure to stay out of Spike’s reach. “Why the hell would we…” “Prepare the men,” Spike snapped, before pushing past Tarhal. “There’s only one way to deal with vermin.” “And that is?” Tarhal called after him. Spike froze for a second, before half turning, fixing his bionic eye on Tarhal, before grinning savagely. “We burn them out.”