Chapter 1
“Where is it?!”
The shriek pierced the peace, shattering it as surely as a blaster bolt, and with significantly more ear based pain. Thumps and thuds accompanied it, each ringing out a pattern across the floor. Dataslates thunked and bounced, a new note in the symphony of desperation playing through the rooms.
Twilight Sparkle, self-declared Jedi Padawan, let loose another cry of despair and pushed through the literary debris before her.
“I need to find it!”
A dataslate flew, bounced, and found a target that squealed. Wood creaked beneath the burst of speed the unfortunate victim to book-based violence, throwing himself across it with a hiss of annoyance. Delicate, immature wings flared and settled as he leapt from table to wall. Small, wicked claws dug into the surface from six points, each of half a dozen limbs fixing him in place to crane his neck enough to glare at her.
“Do you really have to throw them? I mean, come on, how does that help you find one stupid thing?” He grumbled, thoughts rolling across the room lazily.
She peeked up from behind a chest, snapping the lock open with a flick of her fingers. Though her eyes just barely grazed the rise of the lid, the central of her three horns made it much less subtle a position than one might hope.
“Well, maybe if a certain lazy someone helped, I wouldn’t need to fling them all over the place, would I?” she shot back. Her hands went to her hips, though given who she was talking to, it was rendered just as moot as the chest blocking any sight of it would have made it. Her impatience and frustration radiated to him, yet still he gave a shrug in response.
“We’re just going to have to tidy up- oh no! Come on!” Disbelief rushed to her, mingled frustration to match her own making a heady mixture. Forelegs releasing the wall, he stood horizontally and folded them over his chest. “You’re doing this on purpose because you want to do another reshelving before we go!”
“I- no, no, that’s not it at all,” she snapped. Heat bloomed across her face, and she copied him as she stood. “Is that the sort of thing I would do?”
“Yes.”
“Spike! How could you say such a thing!”
He rolled his eyes, jerking free of the wall and launching himself to her. Twilight frowned, but she didn’t stop him from landing on her shoulder and slinking around to the other.
“Because I’ve known you my whole life?” he suggested. His tail curled around her upper arm, a thinning band of rings that pressed against her body suit. Spike flexed his tail, and pricked at the padded shoulders experimentally. “This thing is so cool.”
“Master Celestia gave it to me, what else would you expect?” A smile formed as she said it, and she plucked at one sleeve. The heat came back from whence it had fled as she gazed down, admiring each nuance of its design. She flicked her fingers absently, and the contents of the floor began to resume their places in the shelves around her. “She said it was a very old design. almost lost to time-”
“Speaking of time, how much have we got until we leave?” he asked, sliding the question in between one thought and the next.
A book slammed another book off the shelf, the zabrak frozen in place for a moment.
“I need to find it!”
Sighing, Spike rubbing at his face with one claw and wished for a moment he knew how to slap someone sensible with the Force. “What exactly are we looking for anyway? I thought you packed everything this morning.”
“So did I,” said Twilight,, throwing open the chest and leaning in to stare. “But then I thought ‘what if I get bored of one and want to practice my fine control with something more complex?’ so I had to find the dataslate with the instructions of Master Giiett, since they’re so thorough, but I can’t find them anywhere!”
“...”
This time, she felt the profound silence rather than mere words. Pausing, Twilight turned to him an eyebrow raised. “What is it?”
Spike groaned, shaking his head. “Twi’, that’s already in there. Remember how you ‘bundled’ a bunch of them together? You know, so you didn’t need so many dataslates?”
He didn’t need to hear her say yes. He didn’t even expect her to. It would have been nice, Spike was happy to admit to himself, but he knew better than to expect it. Hope for it, oh yes, he hoped for such a sweet, minor victory.
The cleaning resumed, and Twilight straightened as if a durasteel rod had been inserted where her spine was. “...I see. Well then…” What she didn’t say was carried on a wave of mortification that brought a smug little smile to his scaled face.
“Well then…?” he urged. He brought his toothy grin next to her ear, the faintest of pleased, draconic purrs just barely audible. “Since we have time now, maybe we could get some kas nuts? Since I saved us all the effort of keeping on searching, right?”
Her eyes narrowed at him, “Really?” she asked, deadpan. “Is that what it will take for you to keep this to yourself?” His agreement sang back over their bond, and she sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Alright, we can get some kas nuts. If you help me reshelve.”
“Aww yeah,” gloated Spike. He leapt from her shoulders, and soon a rush of purple scales was restoring order. Between her no doubt necessary display of the Force and his eager assistance, everything was back in place with practiced ease.
Twilight had less ease when she attempted to make her way out. Huffing and puffing, she leaned against the door, bent over almost double. She glared at the bag, as if it was at fault for her state.
“Told you you packed too much.”
“Please, not right now...ah!” Her head whipped up, and her cry rang down the road. “El-ee-vee-three-arr, thank the Force.”
Trundling along, the service droid paused, photorecptors turning towards her. It cocked its head to the side, taking in the girl with the closest its unmoving face could come to curiosity.
She gestured at the bag, an apologetic smile on her face. “Would you be able to take this to Celestia’s house for me?”
After a moment the droid gave a stilted bow. “Of course, Mistress.” Its eyes flashed. “Am I to deliver this bag to her...personally?”
In theory, LEV-3R had no capacity for nervousness, or fright. It’s synthesized voice should have no capacity to quiver. It was rather remarkable that it overcame the odds in this regard and did exactly that.
“Oh, no, no no no, you don’t have to do that,” Twilight spluttered, waving her hands urgently. “Just, uh, leave it in the door...and make sure to announce you’re there and just about to leave my bag inside before you do it, okay?”
“Most certainly, Mistress. Thank you.” LEV-3R was on a roll, clearly, given it managed to express not just relief, but gratitude in voice and flashing eyes.
“No, thank you,” said Twilight, smiling at the droid. Leaving it to take her bag, she set off through town. It was down a familiar path they went, her scaled companion clinging to her shoulders like a cat, and she could feel his anticipation grew with each step she took. “It hasn’t been this long since you had kas nuts, was it?
“Uh, yeah, it’s been forever,” he sent at her, a mix of irritation flowing through it. His tail tightened minutely around her arm, squeezing her eagerly. “You said they were making me fat.”
Twilight thought back, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as the image of a visibly chubby little dragon played across her imagination. From the twitch of his tail, he was catching something of what she saw in her mind.
“Not that fat,” he confirmed with a mental grumble. His tail tightened again, enough for a moment of discomfort before she swatted him.
“Stop that,” said Twilight, and if anyone she passed down the paved road though it odd she was talking to a winged, six-legged lizard perched atop her shoulders, none pointed it out. The young zabrak scowled at him quickly, and forced a smile on as she passed a human woman. And she smiled back, as small as it was, Twilight was pleased to see it.
“They don’t think you’re that weird.”
Twilight flushed, glaring at Spike. “I didn’t....” Her mouth shut with a click of her teeth, and she fell silent. The bustle of a town filled their ears, and Twilight made herself smile again as she passed those who waved or called a greeting. She was hardly an unusual sight, and most who called added a hello to Spike. He uncoiled his tail to wave back, and tapped her shoulder to make sure she did too.
“...sorry.”
Sighing, Twilight offered him a weak smile. “It’s fine,” she whispered back, thoughts and intents flowing across their bond into words. “I know it might be in my head, but I know I’m-”
“We,” Spike interrupted. “We’re different from them, not just you.”
She nodded. “We are, but we shouldn’t have to hide it. We shouldn’t have to worry. After everything she has done for them, I’m sure they wouldn’t care.”
Spike shrugged; a complicated maneuver with eight limbs. “I guess? I dunno, maybe she’ll let you know when you get back? Maybe the Empire really is gone.”
He pressed his head against her cheek, scales brushing across soft skin. Twilight stroked his neck, and looked wishfully up, past the towers of native stone, into the clear sky. Their sun shone down on them, and in her eyes she saw a thousand other suns. Distant stars, their visages coloured by the blue of holos, or faded flimsy-card, lurked in her imagination as they did every day.
“Maybe…” Striding through the town Canterlot, Twilight let a real smile spread across her face. “We’re going to find out, one way or another. Everything changes today, Spike. Today we leave.”
*
‘Today.’
She stared, drinking in the sight like a parched woman before an oasis. It wasn’t all that wrong a comparison; the town was had been an oasis to her. She took a breath, fresh, living air filling her lungs and sending a faint rush through her at the crisp taste, and the sense of connection. Pure air that fed life across a planet almost untouched by civilisation.
‘Today, everything changes.’
Bright eyes darkened, and she bowed her head as that fresh air blew out in a sigh. The sunlight shone, and as her hair fell forward, caught in the gossamer strands. She left it there for the moment, content.
All around her, she felt life at its prime. The town was aglow, a map of emotions and points of energy that shone before her even with her eyes turned down. Beneath the web of sapients, their higher thinking minds clouding feeling with thought, an endless network spread from horizon to horizon. She reached out to grasp a tendril, and let it carry her with it. Through a thousand roots riddling the earth, she reached from burning heart to frozen crown.
It all held such beauty, and it broke her heart to know how soon it might be snuffed out. It shattered what was left of her, to know that it was her fault.
She closed her eyes, knowing she was unworthy of touching this beauty. “I’m sorry.”
Two little words that meant so much.
A trail of wetness rolled down her cheek, a single tear staining her pristine, sorrowful expression. “I’m sorry.”
Two little words that did so little.
She released her gentle hold on the lifeforce of a world, and whispered the two little words that were all she had left; “I’m sorry.”
In the peace, an intrusion announced itself with a soft chime. With it her focus shrunk, turning the blazing clarity of a planet to a single sphere of knowledge that pushed out from her to touch the world. There was no life where her door was but the Force still flowed around all things, and it described the spark of power that brought semblance of life to steel and plastic, revealing by its lack the presence of whirring servos and thrum of circuits. She watched without eyes as the droid leaned forward, depositing its burden with a whir of gear she could only describe as nervous.
The wood of the rail creaked under her hand. Stress lines widened and spread until she breathed in, and the cleansing touch of a life time’s discipline brought peace to her mind and stole the tension from her hand.
When the door below had shut and another chime sounded, the droid hurrying away, she reached up and removed the glistening tear with a swipe of her hand. She released her focus, turning from the vista of Canterlot to stride from the balcony. This was not to say her sightless vision of the world was simply gone. All that she sacrificed was the sheer detail, the scale of her attention dialing back with her shift in priorities.
Just in time, too, for a faint bing brought her attention to the commlink waiting for her. A tap of the button summoned a face. In the holographic static, the lines that almost seemed to mark a shield across his face were lost, but the horns left no possibility of confusing his identity with any other young man.
“The jammer is powering up, Master,” he reported with preamble. “It should be strong enough to reach high orbit, if we need it.” Even rendered in hologram, fire flashed in his eyes.
She didn’t rise to the bait. “Thank you,” was all she said with a grateful nod.
The young man frowned, brow furrowing at her. “Master, are you sure we’ll need it? One vision-”
“- is more than enough,” she finished, though she had no doubt he had meant to say something very different. “At least it is for me. After all this time, Shining, I had hoped it would be enough for you too.”
He sighed, and years dropped away in the face of the same frustration she had seen on him whenever a problem demanded some esoteric solution. “It is. I’m not doubting you, I just… are you sure you know what it means? Didn’t you tell me emotions can make these sort of things hard to decipher?”
“Emotions can provide clarity to sight as much as it can cloud vision.” She held her hand up, and by the stilled response on his lips, the commlink’s holocam had caught it. “After so long, I love you like a son, and as such I’m sure I’ve told you how often I had this very argument with the Council.”
He grimaced, and his disembodied head nodded. “Alright, aright,” Shining grumbled. His hand joined the image for a moment as he ran it through his hair, brushing over his horns. “I’m just… I don’t like this. Lying to her, or him, and not giving everyone more warning… it feels wrong.”
Simple words, but they did so much for her. She smiled, and had he been there, the zabrak would have found himself swept into a powerful hug.
“I know, and it should. Never let necessity change that feeling, Shining Armour. If I saw any other way, I would take it, and knowing that I cannot breaks my heart more than you know. What we are doing is wrong. It might be our only path to salvation, but that does not mean we are not stained by doing it.” She reached out without moving an inch, and from halfway across the town, Shining felt the touch of her mind.
In the hologram, his eyes closed for but a moment before opening once more. No words needed to be said; there was nothing more, when one might feel another’s heart through the Force.
“Come quickly,” she said. “Twilight and Spike will be here soon. I know they would hate to leave without giving their big brother a proper goodbye.”
His lips twisted in sardonic smile. “Yeah. More than they know, I guess. See you soon, Master.”
The call ended, leaving her with just the natural light streaming in around her. Alone, unseen, she brushed another tear from her cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
*
‘Soon.’
She stared, devouring the vision like a starving woman before a banquet. It wasn’t all that wrong a comparison; she had hungered so long for this, dreamed such dreams of fulfilment..such nightmares. She took a breath, old, stale air filling her lungs and sending a faint rush through her at the taint of suffering, and the sense of connection. Recycled air that fed life across a ship, cut off from civilisation by durasteel hull as much as by obedience to proper order.
Dark eyes brightened, and she raised her head as she sucked in that pain-tinged air with a hungry gasp. The light of hyperspace lit her chamber in a kaleidoscope shifting white and blue, and as her hair fell back, it caught in the gossamer strands. She didn’t see it hanging there, brilliant blues and whites dotting her dark hair with as if stringed with stars.
All around her, she felt the choking of her minions. The ship was a mass of shadows, a map of contained anger and resentment, beacons of cold hate that called to her through bulkheads and decks of durasteel. All that could be felt was this hive of dark, grim minds, and trapped within were the lesser minds, the grunts who shied away from the work they did and ignored what might they think again of their beliefs. She reached out to snare a mind, a carefully contained well of stewing bitterness. Shapes formed within it, each carrying some mark in their mind as worthy of disdain, or resentment, or jealousy. Across these links of hate she spread herself, and it brought a smile to her face to bathe in such darkness.
It all held such beauty, and even as part of her screamed, the rest of her laughed. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in it, letting it wash over her and drown out the other voice. The voice that called out a name, desperate, begging. A name that made her sick.
“Celestia.”
She hissed the word, and savoured the taste of it upon her lips. Each letter was part of a whole, a link in a chain, and each brought a smile to her face. A savage, hungry smile that hinted at the mind that lurked behind them. She gazed in the swirling lights of hyperspace, and let it roll from her tongue again.
“Celestia.”
Each letter, a link. The word, a chain. No matter how she said it, her mouth twisted in disgust one moment and fury, yet still it was a sweet sound. It spoke to her of the past, of times long gone. It spoke to her of such love, but left a bitter aftertaste that lingered on, sinking into her.
“Celestia.”
Again, she said it, and the chain tightened around her. It squeezed, ringing in her ears long after the sound had faded, until from it the hate began to fester. It boiled below the surface, a well-spring of fury that sent tremors down her spine. She had but to say the word, invoke that name, and the rage grew stronger.
Behind her, a low tone broke her reverie. Her lips curled into a snarl. “What is it?”
There was no image; none had the right to interrupt her to that extent. From the grill of the intercom, the captain’s voice issued. “I apologise for the interruption, My Lady, but we’re about to reach the final jump point. We shall be leaving hyperspace in a few minutes.”
She sneered at the unseen captain. “We had best be moving again before long, captain. Time is of the essence. She will not slip away from me. I will not lose my chance at revenge because of your incompetence.”
“We shall not fail you, My Lady,” he assured her, and it brought a thrill of pleasure to hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice. “I have the coordinates loaded, and the navigation calculations have been triple checked. The moment we arrive, we’ll set course. It is a short jump, the chance of anything going wrong are minimal.”
“I don’t need that explained to me,” she growled. Her hand balled into a fist, tightening enough to hear her gauntlet creak. “Do not presume to instruct me. Remember who you serve!”
“M-my apologies, My Lady. I won’t do it again,” he stuttered. The sound of his fearful apologies was enough to sooth her for a moment, and she snorted derisively.
“Then get on with it.” The call ended with a crack, the intercom’s casing snapping with a surge of her will. Uncaring, she continued to stare into hyperspace. The interruption had served no purpose, whatever his intentions. The temptation to go to the bridge and provide motivation presented itself, but she shook it away.
‘Soon.’ The thought made her smile again. ‘Soon, Celestia dies.’
*
Twilight pushed the door open, and quick as a lightwhip, Spike was off her shoulder and darting through the air. Wings spread, he managed to glide across the room and land on the armchair without issue. His tail whipped about, and pulled another of his treats out as he lounged there. The snap of hard shell cracking began to sound out.
“Mmmm, at last,” he sent, his thought-voice almost a moan of delight. “I love kas nuts!”
Ignoring him with the ease of practice, Twilight leaned down and pulled open her bag. Everything was in place, as overfilled as it had been when she handed it off to the service droid.
“Judging by the lack of severed droid parts, I guess Lever didn’t run into her,” she muttered, sealing the bag again.
“I’d be put out about a remark like that,” called a voice, amusement running clear throughout, “if it wasn’t backed up by quite a bit of evidence.”
Twilight twirled, cheeks flaring. “Master! I, uh, sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sorry.”
With a wave of her hand, Celestia dismissed the concern. “You don’t have to apologise. After what I did to the medical droid...well, I’m very glad I didn’t hit anything vital. Losing such an important droid would be a terrible thing.”
Head and shoulders taller than Twilight, the older woman shook her head at the thought. She stepped from the stairway and strode across the room. Her lips twitched into a small smile when she saw Spike, and passed him with a gentle stroke along his neck.
“Well, it won’t be an issue for long,” said Twilight. She had to suppress a roll of her eyes at Spike’s attention-begging. “With the veil fading, we can start trading, and then Canterlot will have everything it needs!”
She missed the faint frown on her teacher’s face, though Spike did not. He glanced up at her, but Celestia shook her head slightly.
“A lot of things are going to change, yes,” Celestia agreed, lips pursing. It was impossible to miss her grimace this time, and brought her student up short. “Twilight, you took the time to say your goodbyes, yes?”
The zabrak coughed, and shrugged weakly. “Pretty much.”
Celestia sighed. She rubbed her temple, massaging it with thumb and forefinger as it to work out a kink. “Twilight…”
“It’s not like I have many people to say goodbye to,” the girl blurted. A flush lit her cheeks, but she forged on. “Besides, I’ll only be gone for a few days at most. It’s not like I’ll be away long. We’ve been away from town for longer anyway, I’m sure it doesn’t matter that much.”
Head resting atop the armchair, Spike chewed on a nut as he projected, “Which is totally not her way of saying she still hasn’t done what you told her to do and made some friends.”
“Spike!”
“But I got her to say goodbye to the nut man for me,” he continued. He grinned at the woman. “Does that count?”
Another sigh, and Celestia watched her student glare across the room at Spike. “I’m afraid it doesn’t,” she answer. “Twilight, we’ve talked about this. There’s more to life than history.”
it was an old argument, and again Celestia found her wisdom pited against the same stubborn refusal that had persisted against her for so long, she had come to regret ever teaching Twilight how to use a datapad.
‘I never should have copied those into a datapad for her,’ she thought wearily. Belatedly, she realised Twilight had already launched into the same defense as ever.
“-learn so much from the past. There’s so much wisdom that can be found there, compared to what the people of today have. Everything you’ve told me about the galaxy, about how the Empire warps and destroys history to suit its needs, just shows that everything we learn from it is a blow to the dark side!”
The Jedi shook her head, her mane of hair sending a flash of multi-hued light through the room. “The past can teach us much, I’ve never denied that, but tomorrow is only useful if we don’t lose our grip on today. You need friends, and you won’t find them in tales of the jedi of old or the era of the Republic.”
Already, she could see Twilight gearing up to disagree, and forestalled her with a gesture. Familiar with her teacher’s manners, Twilight fell silent. Sullenly silent, but silent nonetheless.
“I know I can’t convince you right now, Twilight, but just remember what I’ve said. Please?” Celestia asked, a faint note of sorrow slipping into her request against her will. “Just promise me you’ll remember what I’ve said, no matter what happens in the future. Friends are important.”
Confusion played across Twilight’s face, but she nodded. “Y-yes, of course I’ll remember.” She hesitated, then went on, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re saying, it’s just… hard. Besides, I have Spike, and you, and Shining.”
Celestia watched realisation fill Twilight’s eyes, growing into a open-mouthed stare of shock. She was, of course, far too kind and disciplined to be amused by this. Such pettiness had no place in her heart. That said, she couldn’t deny the faintest urge to laugh at the comical expression.
“Shining! I forgot to say goodbye to him!” Twilight cried. Her voice rose an octave, and she spun away. The tabard-cloth of her violet body suit, the very gift she had been given for this journey, snapped between her legs with the force of her turn, and flowed back as she charged towards the door, reaching for it before she was two steps away from where she started. “I’ll be back really soon, I need to-”
She lost track of her own words, largely because the door started to open and she realised, too late, that her intentions to rush out were about to come up against someone else’s intentions to come in. Twilight was a bright girl, and in the instant she had, she had little trouble working out they couldn’t both succeed. In fact, she was pretty sure neither of them would. She had a moment to see familiar patterns of white before she slammed against it. She was stumbling back, rebounding from the wall that had filled the door, a moment later.
“Going somewhere, Twily?”
Her stumbling came to a dead stop, strong hands catching her by the wrists and pulling her up. She blinked, and a face to match the voice swam into focus. “S-Shining?”
“Who else?” said Shining Armour as he smiled, a faintly amused edge to it as he held her up. The thin lines of his facial marks wrinkled around the expression, and he chuckled as her face turned red. “Lucky it was me coming in.”
Collecting herself, Twilight pulled away and scowled. “If you hadn’t been coming in, I wouldn’t have run into anyone,” she pointed out.
“I guess, but you seemed to be in a rush. Why might that be?” His eyes twinkling with mischief, Shining laughed when she huffed and looked away. He nodded over her at Celestia, and she returned it with a small, sad smile.
“...I...I was coming to say goodbye,” grumbled Twilight, crossing her arms and trying to will the blush from her cheeks.’How could I forget to say goodbye to my own brother? I’m such a terrible sister!’ She found her thoughts disrupted by a sudden pull, until she was pressed between his arm and the rigidly barred, flexible plate of durasteel alloy.
“Good thing I expected that. You really thought I’d let you two go off on your first trip off-planet without wishing you well in person?” He grinned down at her, and hugged her. Her arms snacked around him, returning the hug.
“We’re not keeping you from training or anything, right?” Spike asked, his thought-voice undisturbed by the way he ripped into another kas nut.
Twilight pulled back, and frowned as she ran her hand drown the armour. “I’m sorry to disrupt your schedule like this, I really meant to come by and say goodbye,” she said apologetically.
He shrugged, and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Twily. The training can wait, just a little spar with the militia. Gotta keep sharp, with the veil finally gone.”
If she noticed the strain in his voice, she didn’t say anything. Her gaze was focused on his armour, plate of light durasteel alloy coated in plastoid fibers.that gave each plate ridges. Like so many unique trinkets and devices, she knew it had come from Celestia’s workshop. Not for the first time, Twilight wished she knew how her teacher could make such things.
‘We can’t even import things…’ She smiled, stepping back just in time for Spike to leap onto Shining. ‘Until now! Oh, there must be so many books and so much research just waiting for me to read it!’
Celestia’s voice cut through her musing.
“If you want to come with us, we can go now,” said the Jedi. She gestured, and Shining had but a moment to release Spike before Twilight’s bag flew up to him. “There’s no time like the present, and I’m sure you’re both eager to start your adventure.”
“We’re just visiting the next system. It’s not an adventure until we go even further!” Spike sent excitedly, grinning from his reclaimed perch on Twilight’s shoulders. “So, maybe we could check out a few other systems?”
Twilight gave a firm shake of her head. “We’re going to Aplia, and that’s it,” she said sternly. “We can’t even begin to think about actually going further until we know what’s waiting for us. If I can access the holonet, we can even come right back.”
Over Twilight’s head, Celestia’s eyes met Shining’s. It lasted a moment, and Shining brought it with an uncomfortable shrug. He hefted the bag and tried to smile, though it trembled for a moment before solidifying.
“Come on, let’s get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner you two have your chance to experience the galaxy.”
Claiming a satchel, Celestia paused and glanced around the room, as if trying to memorise it and the three who were as children to her in it. Brushing something small and wet from the edge of her eye, she followed, and left her home behind.
*
In the darkness between stars, her eyes snapped open and a victorious hiss rang from wall to wall. Durasteel creaked, fighting the invisible push that strained its limits. Distant stars stared at her, and she smiled at them as the intercom dinged.
“Please excuse my interruption, My Lady,” came the captain’s voice. If the fear she had instilled in him remained, it was well hidden, and she didn’t bother to reach for his mind to check. “We’re beginning the run to hyperspace. We should arrive at the target in under an hour.”
Licking her lips, she nodded, then said aloud, “Good. Was there any sign of the hyperspace veil?”
“None, My Lady. The local Imperial system’s comm traffic suggests hyperspace routes have become less fraught in the past week, and there seems to be some confusion about a local navigational danger no longer complicating routes.” The captain paused for only a moment, before added, “We have detected only a few vessels in range to detect us on their sensors since arrival. I have had their sensor readings and transponders recorded, should you desire their silence once our primary objective has been achieved.”
Despite herself, she nodded again. “I approve, but what if I wanted them silenced now?” she asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.
His reply came back immediately, and she found herself pleased at his answer. “Our pilots are ready to deploy, and I am confident they could reach and destroy such simple vessels as a light freighter and a cargo hauler with ease.”
“That will not be needed. Your diligence has been noted, captain.” Now she did reach out, and his relief brought a dark amusement to her. “Have a message sent to the backwater’s governor. If any of them begin to talk about us, he is to crack down on them. Let him think he is important and useful.”
“At once. It is my honour serve, My Lady.”
Staring out once more, her gaze not on the stars but the blackness between them, she dismissed these materials matters from her mind. “Then go about your duty. I will join you when we arrive.”
Her intercom, already battered and cracked, fell silent. Across the ship, she felt the sudden burst of purpose and focus as the captain announced their hyperspace jump. Her mouth once more curved into a smile, savage and hungry, the smile of a long starved predator at last in sight of its prey.
The stars stretched before her into a twisting tunnel of light, and as the Eternal Night leapt free of realspace, she whispered, “I have you now, sister.”
*
Twilight gazed upon the vessel that would carry her across the stars, and really tried very hard to be impressed. It was...old. Clearly. She peered at a patch of slapdash paint, distinct grey against discoloured old red, and wondered if it covered some dent or...something. Whatever was wrong with starships that you hid with paint.
“We’re taking the Starchaser?” She tried so hard, but after so long, she still couldn’t muster excitement over the rather ramshackle starfighter. The only hyperspace-capable ship they had it might be, but familiarity has long since stolen away any awe over it.
Patting its side, Celestia ran a critical eye over it. “It took me some time to repair it after it broke down, but it’s better than it was, I promise. The hyperdrive works again, and its systems are working without a problem. It’s lost most of its weapons since its militia days, but it should see you to Aplia.”
“And back,” added Spike, though a note of doubt lingered in his projected voice. “Probably.”
“You’ll be fine. I made sure to test it myself,” Shining said, patting its side. “At least, when Master Celestia wasn’t doing it. After that crash...” They all winced at the memory, and Shining rubbed his arm at a ghost of an ache. “...which was out of my control, I want to remind everyone.”
Nodding, Twilight gave her brother a skeptical look, then her mentor a grateful smile. “I know. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I’ve practiced in it enough, it should be absolutely fine. I’ll take good care of it.”
“Starchasers are old, of course, but I would never leave you without a way to protect yourself. Short though your trip is, Twilight, the galaxy is a large, dangerous place.” Walking around the ship, Celestia trailed her hand across the casing of its blasters, staring into the barrel with the smallest of frowns. “No one can ever predict everything, no matter how wise or powerful they seem to be. You must always be prepared to adapt, to change your plans.”
“...Master? I’m just going one system away,” said Twilight, brow furrowing as she watched the elder Jedi pace the Starchaser. She tried to give her teacher a reassuring smile, though even she saw that whatever burden Celestia carried, no smile could wipe away. “We’ll be back before you know it, right Spike?”
“Right! You’ll hardly know we weren’t here,” agreed the little space dragon, a draconic grin on his face.
Celestia shook her head, strange hair catching the light and casting it in bright hues. “Few plans survive contact with the enemy. No matter how short or simple your task, be wary. Be prepared. Be willing to change and react, lest the tide of events swell beyond your control.”
Twilight blinked, staring uncertainly at her teacher. She nodded weakly, glancing at her brother out of the corner of her eye. He shrugged, offering her a strange look she couldn’t quite put a name to.
“Spike,” said Celestia, reaching out to him. When he leapt over, ignoring her hands to settle around her shoulders, she smiled and stroked his neck. “I hope I can trust you to do the same, and keep Twilight safe.”
“Yep! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Twilight remembers to eat, like usual.” The little space dragon gave Twilight a cheeky grin, and she scowled at him with her cheeks flaring up.
“That only happened once,” she snapped. In the face of all three of them staring at her, she faltered, and looked away. “Alright, maybe a few more...but only because those were really good books.”
“Sure it was,” Spike snickered.
“Now, Spike, Twilight hasn’t done that in quite some time,” Celestia assured them both, hiding her amusement beneath a smile. “Just keep an eye out for each other. However long or short this trip might be, I know I can trust the two of you to be there for each other.”
She walked to Twilight, and lifted Spike from her own shoulders into hers. He nuzzled the zabrak, and Twilight returned the affection.
“There’s strength in friends, more than you can imagine. So long as the two of you remember that, and remember that you will always have each other, I know you can handle anything.” Cupping Spike’s chin, and her hand on Twilight’s shoulder, Celestia smiled, and for a moment, a great weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. “You - all three of you - make me so very proud. It has been an honour to help raise you, and to see you come this far, to help bring you to the day you finally leave our little world... ”
She let a tear slip down her cheek, and leaned down to plant a motherly kiss on Twilight’s forehead, carefully avoiding the central ring of her horns, and then on Spike. From a simple touch, it became hug, an embrace where she held Twilight so tight, as if she never wanted to let go.
“Each of you is like the child I..” Her voice faltered, but she pushed on. “..like the children I’ve never had a chance for. I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I love all three of you and I always have.”
Overcome, Twilight leaned into the embrace, and Spike did his best to join in. From a few feet away, Shining’s cheeks reddened at the emotion, and the warmth their teacher’s words imparted, though he kept his face away lest sister or little brother see. He turned back a tad when Celestia looked over Twilight’s shoulder, and he knew had he been close enough she would have swept him into a hug as well.
“I….t-thank you, so much,” murmured Twilight. She had never expected such emotional for a small, even if important, trip. “I… I don’t know what to say, how to...but you mean so much to us too. We’ll remember everything you’ve taught us, I promise. We’ll come home safely.”
“Yeah. We won’t be long,” Spike added, thought-voice lingering with echoes of his own emotions. “Promise.”
Wiping away her tear, whether it was of joy or sorrow, Celestia let go after a few more moments of embrace. “I know you’ll do your best. With your best, my dear exceptional student, I hardly think the ship even needs its computer, with you to do the hyperspace calculations.”
“Of course! I’ve got the jump you planned on my datapad, and I’ve triple checked it, and calculated my own as well, quadruple checked it, just in case.” A proud smile lit Twilight’s face. A thud brought her attention back to the Starchaser, where her brother had dropped her bag in its storage compartment. “Be careful with that!”
“Wouldn’t want to break any of those redundant datacards stuffed with books,” said Spike, snickering from her shoulders. He leapt off before she could give him a swat, gliding on juvenile anti-grav organ as much as his wings, and peered into the cockpit. “It looks like everything's the same, just shinier.”
Shining nodded with a shudder. “I should hope so, I spent ages cleaning all that gunk out. That stuff got everywhere.”
A shudder took all of them, as they remembered the gunk with expressions of disgust, and Celestia reminded herself it hadn’t been selfish to get Shining to clean it. Clearly it wasn’t, because she needed her dignity and a Jedi Master - former or not - vomiting was not a dignified sight for anyone involved.
“Come on, Twily, let’s do the pre-flight checks,” said Shining, heaving himself up the ladder that laid on the Starchaser’s side. A tap had the canopy raising, and Shining chuckled at Spike’s screech of surprise. “Don’t get on if you can’t handle going up a little, Spike.”
Muffling her giggles, Twilight climbed up behind him. “I know how to do the pre-flight check, Shining. I’ve done it before.”
“Not for a few months, and the highest you’ve gone is low orbit,” he shot back. The older zabrak stepped onto one of the ship’s S-foil wings, and helped Twilight get into the cockpit. “Now, first we need to start the power-up sequence.”
“I know, I’ve done it before. You don’t have to tell me how,” Twilight said with a sigh, rolling her eyes. She narrowed her eyes when he ignored her, leaning into the cockpit and pointing just before she hit the same button.
“Good, now…” he continued, deaf to her demands that he let her do it herself. She was, after all, his little sister.
Celestia watched them prepare, and a shiver ran across her back. She glanced at the sky, a flash of uncertainty in her eyes before she shook her head. ‘No,’ she decided. ‘Let them have this. Just for a while.’
*
The light of hyperspace was the only witness to the rustle of clothing as it fell away, leaving her bared to the other-space of faster than light travel. The artificial lights had long since broken, their cracked lenses providing no florence to add to the blue of the swirling tunnel. She didn’t look away from transparisteel screen, eyes locked on the eternally distant goal all hyperspace ships seemed to chase through the strange plane they jumped through.
In the place of her crumbled attire, a black bodysuit slipped over her figure. Skintight and dark as night, it drank in the hyperspace light as she stretched it from slender fingers to toes. Only when she was done adjusting it, even her neck perfectly clad in shadow-made material, did she flick open a wall panel and her will dragged the first piece out.
Plastoid alloy coloured such dark blue it seemed black was revealed only to her here in her sanctum, yet she savoured the sight. More, she savoured the knowledge of the sight she would make to others.
She saw herself in their minds as the first piece wrapped around her torso, it’s bindings clicking in place with the next peice to join it. Bit by bit, she clad herself until only her head was bared, and she left it that way, helmet hanging limply from one hand.
She felt it a moment before the intercom dinged, and she wasted the faintest of her attention to will the buttons on it to depress. It cackled, the first signs of abuse taking its toll, yet the voice of the Eternal Night’s captain came through clear after a moment.
“-rrive in approximately nineteen minutes, My Lady. All hands stand ready; our Defenders will deploy the instant we leave hyperspace.”
She let him linger, waiting on her answer, for a few more seconds. Much as she enjoyed his fear, she felt the detachment within him grow by the moment as they approached. He was discarding any concern but success in his mission, and she could not fault him in this. After all, it was her mission more than his.
“Very good, captain.” Raising the helmet to her face, she looked herself in the eyes one more time. “I will be joining you on the bridge soon. Have my landing craft prepared.”
“At your command.”
“Yes,” she agreed, helmet sliding smoothly into place. “And by my command, my nightmare ends today.”
For a moment, she stared at her helmed visage, and fingered the lightsaber at her belt. At last, she turned and left, the door hissing shut as she strode out to meet the destiny denied to her for seventeen long years.
*
It took too long, and lasted not nearly long enough, all at once. The moment came at last when Celestia had to give her charges a final farewell, and when her arms wrapped around Twilight in another embrace, she held back the tears that threatened to flow.
‘No emotion, is there,’ whispered an old voice from the depth of her memory. ‘Only the Force.’
In happier times, words she had argued against. In times more terrible, words she had despaired over. Today, she found some comfort in them. Not much, but as she slipped her gift into Twilight’s pocket unnoticed, they were all she had.
Those words, and hope.
“The Force will be with you, always,” she said, and finally let go. It took more effort than she could have imagined, but still Celestia forced herself to release Twilight, and when she held Spike in her arms, and he nuzzled her neck, she wanted to hold onto him and never let go.
“I know, Master.” Twilight smiled, giving her brother a brief hug before climbing into the cockpit again. “Come on, Spike, we need to go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming. See you soon, Master. We’ll be back before you know. Unless Twilight finds a book store, that is,” said Spike, snickering loudly. Twilight’s exasperated sigh simply urged him on.
“Be safe. And remember to check the air cycle systems every time you enter or leave atmosphere,” Shining couldn’t help but add, and was given an eyeroll in return.
With a hiss, the cockpit sealed shut over the pair, Twilight strapped in and Spike grasping her shoulders. Outside, Celestia and Shining retreated a few steps. She raised her hand over her eyes, blocking the swirling dust kicked up by the ignition of blazing sublight engines.
Twilight waved, a smile on her face. Spike’s tail waved too, until the pair outside waved back. The young zabrak reached down, out of their sight, and the response announced itself in the roar of the Starchaser’s engines. With a lurch of repulsors, the Starchaser began to rise. It’s engine thrummed with power, feeding energy through it with fresh life. Light caught in the shimmering veil that flared to life around the old starfighter until the shields faded away to provide their protection unseen.
The starfighter rose, slowly, and began to move. Speed built, and elevation followed as it curved gently into the sky. Together they watched Twilight and Spike leave, and no longer did either mask the pain.
“I need to go….I need to start the evacuation,” said Shining, forcing his gaze off the sky. He raised a hand before she could interject, adding, “I’ll activate the jammer as soon as she reaches high orbit.”
Celestia nodded, taking a breath and expelling it in a sigh that failed to expel the weight upon her with it. “Yes, indeed. Make sure everyone knows it’s only for a few days but they have to hurry. I feel her approaching even now.”
“I will.” With a last glance at the sky, Shining took a step away, but he hesitated. “...we had to do this, didn’t we? There’s no other choice?”
She closed eyes, and hide the pain in them. “Yes,” she said, words rolling off an almost numb tongue as she forced them out. “It was. And it was my plan. My choice to lead us down this path. Remember that, Shining, and remember that we’ve done the best can with what we have.”
Shining nod, though his doubt radiated through the Force. Celestia watched him go, and when she followed, her eyes were ringed by raw red.
*
The door whispered open, automatic panels drawing up instantly. It was still enough for the captain to glance over, and falter as the door unveiled the dark form of their leader. He snapped to attention, turning from the bridge to salute crisply.
“My Lady,” he intoned respectfully.
Her armoured boots rang out on the deck of the bridge, bringing the crew to attention. Her hand snapped out in a sharp gesture, and they returned their attention to their stations.
“Captain,” she returned neutrally. Her grim visor, the entire design of her helmet rendering it more pointed than a stormtrooper’s, hid whatever hint he might have gleamed from her eyes. “How long until we arrive?”
“Reversion will occur in mere minutes. I assure you, I was just about to inform you,” he hurriedly told her, gesturing at the holoscreen before him.
She turned her hidden gaze to the yawning maw of hyperspace that swirled before them. “I am aware. I chose to come up early.” Her tone sharpened. “I do hope that isn’t a problem, is it?”
“No, of course not.” He tapped a key, reversion countdown shrinking to allow more information to flow onto the holo-screen. “I’m pleased to report we’ve encountered no difficulties. The hyperspace veil has faded entirely.”
“And we are prepared for battle?” she prompted.
The captain nodded eagerly. “All weapons are calibrated and armed, and the gunnery crew is well trained. Colonel Vessery has reported the Black Flight is ready to launch, and I have ordered him to deploy as soon as we revert.”
From within her helmet, unseen, she watched the countdown. Every second took too long to be counted, and she fought the urge to snarl aloud. It was taking too long.
“Good. Good…” she trailed off, and something of her aggravation must have shown in her voice, for the captain retreated half a step. All she could do was stare into the depths of hyperspace, and see dancing before her mind the victory she was rushing towards.
Yet, still, it was taking too long.
*
Equus fell away, bit by bit surrendering its grip upon the Starchaser as it rose against the bonds of gravity. Twilight gripped the controls, feeling the sweat between her palm and the stick, but unable to take her hand away with cautions of accidents by slack-gripped pilots loud in her memory.
“Wow...it looks so small.”
She turned her eyes from the stars ahead to Spike, and raised an eyebrow. “What does?”
“The planet.” His tail gestured lazily towards the vista of blue and green. “Hard to believe we’re leaving for real. In a real starship. A starfighter!”
Twilight couldn’t resist rolling her eyes, and chuckling. “We’re not going to be gone for even a day, and we’re certainly not going to be using this for any sort of fight. It’s just a peaceful mission to check on the galaxy’s status.” Her chest puffed up with pride. “Master Celestia is trusting us to be discreet and safe, and bring her back the first fresh news in nearly twenty years. Imagine the advancements!”
Spike cocked his head to the side. “Er, isn’t there, like, a big evil Empire out there? I thought she said they were really bad. I don’t want any sort of advancement from them.”
“I’m positive things have improved. Maybe the Empire got better?” she suggested, tapping in numbers. Status lights flashed green, and she smiled as she fed her co-ordinates into the astrogator. “We’re going to find out soon. We’ll be able to jump any second.”
Her hand came to rest on the hyperdrive lever, curling around it. Just above it, a light flashed red, blinking insistently at them. She took a breath, recycled air flooding her lungs, and noticed… her hand was trembling.
‘We’re not going far. We’ll be back soon. So why am I…?’
Hard and small, a purple claw gently lay atop her hand. The trembling faded.
“This is kind of big so...together?” Spike asked, tail curling around her neck as he looked up at her.
Twilight smiled, and nodded.
The light turned blue, a steady cobalt glowing at them as the last visages of their home’s gravity lost its hold upon them.
“Together.”
The stars stretched, and swirled, as the Starchaser took them so far from the only home they had ever known.
*
The stars waited with the patience of ages, content for their light to gaze upon this world until their flame guttered out or it was swallowed by its own sun. In space, the light of a galaxy shone in pinpricks of distant glory, an endless daylight within the black.
And in the space of a moment, the stars were blotted out. Not every star, of course, for no weapon of nature, science or the Force could dream such a devastation save the endless grind of entropy, but enough in that small space to make a difference.
A dagger blade of pure black cut into realspace. It hung above the lovely green-blue world, a threatening blade. An executioner’s blade.
In silence, it waited for nearly a minute until it finally came to life. Light lit the dark shape as it engines pushed it forward, and lines of colour stretched out to connect it to the world below.
For some, it was a beautiful sight. Among them, a few might have found the knowledge that each light was the discharge of weapons and each flash promised destruction
Eternal Night had come.
*
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Wonder who could be on that ship?
"Ignoring him with the ease of practice, Twilight leaned down and pulled open her bag. Every was in place, as overfilled as it had been when she handed it off to the service droid." Shouldnt that be everything?
But interesting start to this.
Another very enjoyable chapter. Great job.
Author's Note TL;DR: OP is an impatient twat.
No wonder his OMG MYSTERY VILLAIN can't sit still...
Hm, just out of curiousity, the Eternal Night is a Super Star Destroyer, yes?
6826831 It is not! Because having an SSD straight away would just...well, it would escalate things. Plus, I can't imagine the New Republic ignoring an SSD running around the galaxy blatantly like that. It's rather more subtle than that.
6826727 Heeeeeeeeeey. Don't be mean.
6825853 Thanks, good to hear.
6825634 It should, and thank you.
6825281 Oh, gee, I wonder.
6827573 its rare I catch the typo's like this. But gah, this is making me want to go back into ToR and just mess about with the story, butts to everything else.
6827573
*waves her hand* This is not a Super Star Destroyer, clearly this is a simple Cargo Freighter.
6827861 The actual ship type will probably revealed eventually, but I could probably message you if you want to know now. It's not like it's a real spoiler or something.
Aaaand there we go, the reason I can't seriously get into this story.
Twilight, darling though she is, is the exactly worst kind of person to train in the force. With her mental rigidity, crippling insecurities, staggering impatience and passionate nature her plummet to the dark side is not so much assured as something you can follow with a point-by-point checklist. Which she would probably help you make...
I just can't see it as NOT happening without either SW setting or Twi's character getting cheapened, even for as talented an author as Atouchart is...
6833206 I mean, you could consider that there are other characters around to help her keep balanced and resist falling, and that that very struggle would form a part of her story. I do appreciate the compliment at the end, but just saying 'its foregone this happens or that's not the character' limits the imagination, bars the option of creativity and denies the fact that Twilight is not an island. She will be surrounded by other characters, who will affect her and who she will affect.
Or it could be as simple as other people not agreeing with your view of the character. Still, if you don't want to read it, your choice, I just think you're not giving it a chance.
6833591
You mean those others who have so far failed to seriously alleviate the characteristics that I've made note of , in canon, for the last five seasons?
Thank you very much I understand that Twilight, or anyone else does not operate in vacuum. But that also works in reverse - as much as they can act as stabilizing effect, they can also, inadvertently or not depending on the situation, push her further into the downward spiral, as is also clearly demonstrated in canon.
But finally - Don't let my cynicism bother you one iota, mine is a bad outlook and I'm fully aware of it. Better to feel good about yourself in the fact that in general (just not this fic in particular, sorry to say) I find your works an excellent cure for my melancholies.