The Final Battle
Not for the first time, Spike regretted the loss of his cybernetic brain, for all its faults, it had made comprehension of even the most tricky of subjects easy. Not that Spike was a fool without such aid, he liked to think of himself as intelligent in the extreme, a by-product of Twilight’s teachings from so long ago, and something that had allowed him to master the near impossible Shyriiwook even as a child.
So why was he now having such a hard time learning Mando’a?
“I thought this language was meant to be easy to learn?” Spike muttered.
“It is,” Seugtai insisted. “Well, until you overthink it at least. Ask again in the right way though.”
Spike rolled his eyes, before concentrating.
“Ni liser ibic joha cuyir pakod hibirar.”
“You’re overthinking it,” Seugtai insisted. “Mando’a is a very literal language, barely a written form at all. Meaning is inferred as much as spoken. Ni urmankala joha ori'pakod. Literally I thought language is easy. Jate, not bic cuyi jate. ‘Good’ rather than ‘It is good’, you don’t need to overthink.”
“That’s probably why Spike’s struggling,” Moonstone snorted.
“Laugh it up, doubt you’re any better.”
“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Moonstone spoke smoothly, looking at Seugtai expectantly.
“I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal,” Seugtai nodded. “She’s good, Spike.”
“You’re literally part of my head, why can’t I get this?” Spike let out an over-exaggerated sigh.
“Drama queen,” Moonstone rolled her eyes. “It’s nice seeing you in a better mood though.”
Spike thought about that for a moment. It had been weeks since he had pledged that he would follow the Resol'nare. Those weeks had been filled with training, learning what it meant to be Mandalorian, six basic pillars to now live by. Part of him insisted he should be fighting the still ongoing war, not resting until the Sith were defeated, but while it was true that the syndicate were still waging their war on the Sith, he no longer felt quite as tied to it, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he didn’t know he’d been carrying.
“Turns out all I needed was someone to tell me to stop carrying the galaxy,” Spike shrugged with a genuine smile.
“No one can carry that much,” Seugtai agreed with a smile of his own. “Honour and victory are everything to a Mandalorian, but that doesn’t mean we can’t step back from a fight not our own.”
“The war is my fight,” Spike countered.
“Was,” Seugtai corrected. “The war was your fight right up until you were exiled. Everything else was your own fight, your own belief. Nothing wrong with that, but taking on a task like that will cripple you, clearly. You’re far freer than you were weeks ago.”
The conversation was interrupted as a man strode into the room, snapping off a quick salute to Spike, his bearing clearly military, likely one of the soldiers who sided with Spike when he took Fireshot.
“Report,” Seugtai ordered smoothly, turning to face the warrior.
“Urgent communication for Spike,” the man rattled off. “Marked for his eyes only, coming in over secure frequency glavius-5729-rho.”
“That’s an old frequency,” Spike mused for a moment, before realisation shot across his face. “It’s a Nexu band, we used it back in the temple. I didn’t even know it still existed.”
“A Jedi’s trying to get in contact? Nice to know they still care,” Seugtai chuckled.
“Zule,” Spike nodded. “Come on, if he’s contacting us he either needs our help, or he’s found where we’re operating from and is coming here with a fleet. Either way, I’d like to know about it.”
Nodding in agreement, Seugtai fell in beside Spike as he headed towards the comms room, Moonstone keeping pace with the pair with ease, gliding forward far faster than her trott would indicate. She seemed to be doing things like that a lot recently, Spike noticed, acting in ways that made it very clear she wasn’t truly a pony, driving home her apparition nature. He hadn’t asked her about it, and whatever her reasoning was locked from his mind, but he could see the outcome all the same. He made a mental note to ask her about it when things had finally quietened down in the galaxy, before letting out a snort of laughter.
“Something the matter?” Moonstone asked, her head snapping to look at Spike, concern in her eyes.
“No no,” Spike shook his head. “I was just thinking of something I need to do once the galaxy’s calm, then I realised if I waited for that, I’d be waiting till the stars blew out.”
Spike let out another laugh as he finished, Moonstone joining in with one of her own, before falling silent as the trio entered the comms room.
“Bring up the transmission,” Spike called as he entered, the attendants nodding, tapping a few buttons, a crackle filling the room. No hologram though, Spike turning to look at the comms operator expectantly.
“Not on our end,” the man shook his head. “It’s a terrible connection, I’ll try to clean it up as best I can, but I don’t know...”
“kzzzzt...can....me....kzzzzt.”
The sound bounced around the room, the voice robotic and all but impossible to make out.
“Can we clear the transmission up at all?” Spike asked, his question only greeted with a shaking head.
“Like I said, it’s not from our side.”
Spike leant forward, placing his hands on the handrail surrounding the holo-transceiver, raising his voice and ensuring he spoke as clearly as possible.
“This is Spike. If you can hear me, we are receiving static. Boost your relay signal.”
“kzzzzt...easier said....done,” the voice crackled again, before finally starting to stabilise, a grainy mess blurring into view in the rough outline of a humanoid, though any details the hologram may once have held were utterly obscured. “Lieutenant, get down to engineering and find out their progress. Prioritise the comms relay above all else, understand? Nothing else matters.”
“We can hear you,” Spike cut in. “It’s choppy and your holo-feed is shot but we can hear you at least.”
“Shutting down the visual link then,” the voice was still slightly robotic, but as the visual mess faded, it finally became semi-recognisable, or at least, Spike could place that it was a woman he was speaking to, though not one he knew.
“Confirm your identity and how you have access to this channel,” Spike barked, his voice hardening. As he spoke, Seugtai moved to stand beside the comm officer, his voice low as he presumably gave commands to scramble any tracking signal and prepare to cut the communication at a moment's notice.
“Brevet Commodore Adare Spiama, 13th Flotilla,” the voice responded, Seugtai already looking through a data terminal, presumably scanning for the name on Republic back channels, giving Spike a thumbs up after a few moments of searching.
“And the channel frequency?” Spike reiterated.
“Jedi Master Zule Thanos gave it to me and asked me to contact you,” Adare responded. “He sends his regrets he could not message you in person, but pressing matters took his attention.”
“There’s a war going on, understandable,” Spike nodded tersely, before remembering the visual link was down. “What news do you bring, Adare? It’s not everyday we get a Commodore calling us, even a Brevet ranked one.”
“Republic High Command needs your aid,” Adare responded quickly. “The aid of everyone actually. We are mounting an offensive on a Sith Battlestation found by Carth Onasi. Reports on the exact nature of the station are sketchy at best, but it seems to be some giant shipyard known as the Star Forge, possibly the lynchpin of the entire Sith production line.”
Spike felt his voice catch in his throat as Adare finished, the ramifications of what she was suggesting pounding in his head. If Carth was right, this could be a chance to swing the war back to the Republic and neutralise the Sith’s numerical advantage, or outright steal it if the station could be taken intact.
“This could mean the end of the entire war,” Spike murmured, before shaking his head. There would be time for wishful thinking later. “Transmit coordinates and rendezvous information, all ships I have flight ready will be deployed in support of the assault. We stand with the Republic.”
“Coordinates transmitted,” Adare replied a moment later. “The fleet is mustering within the Koornacht Cluster as we speak, the...”
“The Koornacht Cluster?” Spike cut in. “That’s on the other side of the galaxy from the Sith, the closest world they have is Rendili. If the Sith are in the Uncharted Regions...” Spike trailed off, yet more implications swimming in his head.
“We are unsure of the Sith presence in that area of space,” Adare continued. “But Republic listening posts have not detected any stable hyperspace routes not already discounted for heavy ship use. The coordinates Carth sent us included an unknown Hyperlane, but we have found no further evidence of any more existing.”
“If they could hide one, they could hide others,” Spike grumbled. “Let's hope this Star Forge really is the centerpoint of the Sith’s shipbuilding capability. If we’re throwing everything we have at it, our other fronts will be exposed.”
“Coordinates received, Spike,” a voice called out.
“We’ll be there,” Spike assured Adare. “One way or another, I think this battle will decide everything. End transmission.”
The call cut off abruptly, Spike turning to look at Seugtai, before turning to see all the faces of the men and women in the comms room, all looking at Spike expectantly.
“Download the contents of the transmission to my quarters,” Spike ordered. “Bring all ships to readiness and check the IFF signatures and visual identifiers on the captured ships. I want the fleet ready as soon as possible. Make everyone aware this is not a drill, I will address the station before we leave and inform everyone of the new mission. Dismissed.”
With the order given, the spell seemed to be broken, voices overlapping as orders were barked into comms. Moments later, the lights flicked from standard white to battle-ready red, bathing Spike in the crimson glow for a moment before the main lights activated once more, the test cycle complete. Elsewhere, a klaxon began to sound, pounding feet echoing throughout the decks. Fireshot may have been old, many of her current crew pirates and mercenaries rather than life-long soldiers, but it seemed the old-girl still had fight in her, Spike smiling as he headed from the room, Moonstone and Seugtai close behind him.
“Are you both ready? Weapons, armour?”
“Armour’s good and weapons are charged,” Seugtai nodded.
“Our magic’s good as well,” Moonstone chimed in.
“You’ve trained in your armour, Spike. Can’t think of a better place to test it out than something as big as this.”
“Well, if I don’t use it now then I may never get the chance to,” Spike snorted. “You heard Adare, this is going to be big. One way or another, I think the war will be over, or at least decided with no chance of changing the outcome. Either the Republic takes or destroys this Star Forge...”
“Or the Sith lay waste to the Republic’s fleet and appear right on top of Coruscant,” Seugtai finished. “No pressure on anyone.”
Spike let out a clipped laugh, before lapsing into silence as he entered his chambers, his eyes falling on what he had come to collect.
In the weeks since he had made his vow to learn the Resol'nare, he had barely been idle for a moment, between learning Mandalorian history, blastr techniques and their language that he still struggled with, but by far the greatest time-sink had been what now lay before him; the forging of his own armour.
It had taken him weeks under the steely eyed gaze of Seugtai and droid armorsmiths from Fireshot’s armoury, Spike grateful for their help in the process, having rarely forged anything more than his lightsaber casings, and even then with all the tools and materials he could have asked for from an entire order. Now he had far less, and was making far more.
Forged from a blend of Durasteel and Duraplast, the armour was vastly different from the bone-like plate that Seugtai wore, even discounting the difference in size and anatomical needs. Unlike Seugtai’s, Spike had seen no need to make his armour fully sealed, the force, his magic and his dragon physiology keeping him more than protected from gas attacks or the touch of the void. Likewise, he had eschewed the need for an armoured body glove beneath the armour, any blows that impacted there would be deflected by his own scales.
In truth, Spike still did not see the value of the armour as a means of protection, and he doubted he ever would, but as a symbol, as a means of identification and a link to a new life his soul needed to work, it was everything. The majority of the armour was green, Seugtai prompting the choice for its association with duty, Spike having no issue with such a link. A high collar protected the wearer's neck, while a pair of steel vambraces gave a means of secondary control over the suit's more complex systems.
As with all Mandalorian armour however, the helmet was the true jewel in the armour’s crown, as well as the most complicated part of building the suit. Spike’s head and snout were not conducive to a standard helmet design, nor was his crest useful for fitting in a helmet, forcing Spike to cut a groove in the top of the armour, allowing his crest to remain uncrushed while wearing it.
Beyond its looks however, the helmet was still an advanced piece of hardware. A dark macrobinocular viewplate offered a variety of vision modes, including infrared, while a pineal eye sensor on the helmet combined with an internal overlay display to provide tracking information within a 360-degree radius. Motion sensors, an encrypted internal comlink, and a broad-band antenna completed the helmet's devices. Spike had even made modifications he was far more familiar with, linking the helmets systems to that of Harmony, and while he would be no means be able to pilot the ship with the interface as he could when linked to his Basilisk or with a smaller fighter, it was more than capable of interfacing him with the vessel, giving Spike access to any system readout he needed in a split second.
Spike moved forward, laying a hand against the helmet as it hung motionlessly, suspended in a small containment field set up to the side of his quarters. He had worn it before of course, Seugtai and Spike had trained together while wearing the suit throughout its forging practice, in the hangers of Fireshot, on the surface of the planet they orbited, and even in the void itself, but this felt different, knowing he was going to wear the armour into battle, to proclaim where he now stood. That was a different order of magnitude all together.
“Let's get this done,” Spike muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, reaching into the containment field and pulling the first piece of armour free.
***
Spike stood on the bridge of Harmony, feeling both like a traitor to the ship and at last coming to truly own it. He had taken the ship from the Mandalorians years ago, flown it into battle against their kind countless times. It had hated the Mandalorians as much as he ever had, and yet now, as he stood clad as one of their kind, the ship seemed eager to obey his commands, linked to his helmet systems as he stood prepared for war. His armour was tight to his body, its presence impossible to forget but comfortable enough that he did not mind. Likewise his weapons were tightly secured to his thighs, Elusive on one leg, its inlaid blue gems glinting in the bridge light, while a heavy disruptor weapon rested on his other.
“The fleet is ready, sir,” one of the bridge crew called, but Spike already knew that, reading the ship's ready icons in an instant. Over two dozen warships ranging from ancient battleships to Hammerheads and Sith Cruisers, alongside a host of smaller fighters or attack craft. It was a potent force, but by the standards of the Republic Navy, it was barely a Squadron, let alone a full Battle Group or Fleet, formations that contained hundreds of vessels. Alone they were good for raiding, little else, but together with the Republic Navy, perhaps they could finally go toe to toe with the Sith on even terms.
“No more running,” Spike whispered, before opening a channel to every ship in the fleet, speaking clearly into his helmet and letting his voice travel to every ship under his command.
“I know many of you call the Republic our home,” he began, before revising his statement, “Or if we do not currently, then we did. However, I know that many more of you do not, and never have. You are not all soldiers, many of you swore no oaths, took no vows of loyalty to those we now fly in defence of. I know together we have fought the Sith, but always on our own terms. I am sure that many of you question flying to aid a Republic fleet, could it be a trap? Could the Republic be waiting for us? To that I say, possibly. We could be flying to those who seek to imprison us, jumping to their tune not that of the war, but if they are genuine, if what they say is true, Then the risk is worth taking.”
Spike took a breath and steadied himself before continuing.
“Years ago, I was part of the Jedi Order, a General of the Republic. We all know how that ended, I never thought I would command again. You proved me wrong. Those of you who followed me either through a sense of loyalty, or just for your share of the coin. I’m not judging either one, the fact you are here, now, makes you all my brothers and sisters. We may be flying antiquated ships, many of which are understaffed or run by overtaxed droids, but I say this; There is no one else I would want by my side through this.”
Not strictly true Moonstone thought, a flash of the Special Forces crossing his mind, Spike conceding the point but continuing his speech regardless.
“All your lives have led to this moment, to standing here by my side. The Sith defending their Star Forge will be brave, they will be well led and equipped, their fleet will be large and they will be expecting the Republic, expecting a nice ordered battle. That’s not us though, not anymore. We are the ones the Republic decries, the criminals and pirates, the thieves and killers. We do not fight as a military does, we fight to win, we fight because that’s what we know and what we love.”
Spike took a deep breath again, letting his own fiery passion slip into his words as he continued.
“No one ever won a war by dying for what they believed in, but wars are sure as shit won by making some other poor dumb bastard die for what they believe in. So let's go prove that, let's go and make sure the Sith die for what they believe in, and let’s end this fucking war!”
Spike opened wide-band communications as he finished, a cheer going up across the fleet, transmitted to every other ship, making the soldiers on each one cheer harder as they heard their comrades baying for blood alongside them. Spike smiled behind his helmet, appreciating the faceless value of the armour now more than ever.
As the ships began to move towards the jump point, heading for the coordinates Adare had given them, a soft ping sounded in Spike’s ear, a private channel opening a second later.
“Good speech,” Seugtai commented.
“You learn a thing or two about speeches after leading a couple of wars,” Spike shrugged.
“Doesn’t make it any less important,” Seugtai countered. “That’s not the issue though. I was going to wait until you had technically shown you had learnt and taken to heart all of the tenants of the Resol'nare. With this happening though, we’re going to be flying into hell, and I don’t want to miss out on this because of that.”
“Seugtai...” Spike began, but Seugtai cut him off.
“Spike, this is important, please, allow me to finish. We need to speak face-to-face, or at least holo-to-holo. Alone as well.”
“You have the bridge,” Spike looked at a Rodian who nodded back at Spike, before walking from the bridge, heading to the communications room.
“Clear the room,” he ordered curtly, the two soldiers inside moving without complaint, Spike watching them go before typing in a locking code, ensuring they would not be disturbed.
“We’re alone,” Spike spoke into his helmet, before transferring the call to the holo transmitter, Seugtai appearing before him, likewise fully armoured and ready for battle.
“Thank you. Spike, one or both of us may not return from this fight, time is all that stands between you and a technically true understanding of the Resol'nare. That’s enough for me. Being Mandalorian is not about memorising facts, it's about your heart. Clan, family, tribe, brother, all mean the same when you get down to it, and as a member of Clan Ordo, what I am about to do lies within my rights. Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad – Spike. I name you my heir, a member of my tribe, of my family. If this should be your last battle, then face it not simply as Spike, ex-Jedi and ex-general. Face it anew, as Spike Ordo, Mandalorian of Clan Ordo, and if we survive, may we bring my clan back to true power.”
“Not a bad speech yourself,” Spike laughed, before inclining his head slightly. “Well then, let's make sure the Sith rue the day they faced two Ordo’s in battle.”
Spike couldn’t see Seugtai’s face beneath his helmet, but he didn’t need to, picturing the Taung’s rictus grin spreading across his face in preparation for the fight to come. Exiting the room, Spike returned to the bridge, standing motionlessly as the stars were stretched by the activating hyperdrive, catapulting Harmony and the Fireshot fleet towards whatever fate awaited them at the Koornacht Cluster, and the Star Forge beyond.
And with that, we finally have got to the bit that I have wanted to arrive at for ages. People mentioned it would be cool to have art of Spike in his armour. Well I can now happily reveal that you need imagine such coolness no longer. I present Spike, Mandalorian of Clan Ordo! :D
(Higher rez image here)
Artwork by a good friend of mine, Nina Ward
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That image is goood
10397800
Short answer, yes.
Longer answer, yes, the fifth act's title shoudl give you some clues as to when that might be, and what might be in store for Spike
10400981
Don't agree with this but that's a fair assessment.
To be honest, this is as much a Star Wars story as it is an MLP one. I think Spike has definetly had and is still having a lot of character growth, and while he may not be affecting canon events directly, he has a lot of inlfluence on them, and is also a chance to explore the universe. As for him being a different character, yes, he is a bit, however his growth is a huge factor, and Act 5 will most certainly bring in everything.
Regardless, thanks for giving it a look over, hope you liked what parts you did read.
now all Spike needs is the Darksaber...
Ooh no not the death flag 😭😭😭
Sick image btw
10401096
I can tell you now, that 100% won’t be happening. I’m not sure who the Darksaber was made by, but Spike won’t be seeing it XD
And here we......go.
Yesss, these updates sustain me.
10401208
I think the person who made the Darksaber was a Mandalorain turned Jedi named Tarre Vizsla who lived a Thousand years before the Clone wars started.
10401208
Sounds about right, so a few thousands years after where we currently are XD
I would love some art of Spike, Seugtai, and Moonstone all together
Aaaaaaah! He looks so cooool! Not exactly how I picture but its amazing!
So Spike will be at the attack of the star forge huh? Then perhaps he'll see quite a lot of things before the attack is over, but perhaps the biggest thing to see will be just how he will react to events... and how everything will go.
10401603
I think that will have to happen at some point XD
10401208
while it is true that credit for the creation of the Darksaber is given to Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandlorian ever inducted into the Jedi Order, at around the year 1019 BBY, that is merely legend, the crystal for that blade could have been found much earlier...
Holy crap, Spike looks damn good in Mandalorian armor
The best thing to come out of this story so far, (as I have yet to sink my teeth into it), is my newfound knowledge of the song Through the Fire and Flames. If only I remembered which comment that was...
Age.