Dawn of Forever, Part XI

Lando Calrissian had moved his business into the beta quadrant. He liked the beta quadrant, at least this far corner of it. It was quiet, far from the conflicts that plagued most of the Milky Way, whether it was Mistryl raiders or Section 31 or crazed Hirogen or even the odd hologram, they stuck to the other areas of the galaxy. Out here you kept your head down; it made sure nobody would try to chop it off.

Lando wanted peace and quiet, which is exactly what he got. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that life was going to be trouble-free, it just meant that the problems would be limited to the humdrum of "can I meet my bills?" and "will the new improvement to the drive assembly affect the cost?" instead of "can I do without a proton missile launcher or will my factory be incinerated?" or "will I be murdered in my bed tonight as either a supporter of the Empire or a traitor to the Empire?" Being a businessman again had come naturally to Calrissian, who had been so many things in his life. He'd been a general and he'd been a crook, so it was the perfect balance; he led people in taking other people's money away. Unfortunately, sometimes other people conspired to take your money away. It was a matter of knowing when that was going to happen so you could prepare for it, but nothing had prepared Lando for the day the Empire came for their shipment and only dropped enough credits to cover half of it.

Of course, there are usually options to deal with a situation like that. Usually you hold the merchandise until the full payment is arranged, or you provide whatever the customer can afford to pay for at the moment. However, when faced with a few star destroyers and a complete absence of serious defenses, the options become reduced to "hand over the goods and hope we can sort it out later." Well, it was later, and the sorting out wasn't going very well.

"General," Lando said in the firm yet diplomatic voice he had to employ when dealing with difficult yet valued customers, "we really can't work like this. We need payment in full for our ships upon receipt, or I can't continue to provide them to you." "Can't" was always important to say. "Won't" says "we could but we're not going to." "Can't" says "I really want to, honestly, but my hands are tied." "Can't" says we're in this together and can work it out if we all act sensibly.

"You'll be paid in full, Calrissian," General Taar said, looking over reports during the meeting. "You just need to give us time."

"General, I understand the Empire is a bit distracted-"

"The Empire is fighting for its existence," Taar said sharply. "And for the continued existence of all its citizens, whom the Vong aren't going to treat nearly as fairly if they are allowed to win. But wars cost money, Calrissian."

"I'm aware of that," Lando said. "I have an itemized list sitting on my desk, in fact."

"Look, Calrissian, I sympathize, really, I do, but I cannot pay you credits I don't have."

"And we can't continue to provide ships without payment, general," Lando said flatly. "We're going to have to come to some kind of an arrangement."

"Listen, I have a war to run, not time to deal with every little problem in the universe. You have two choices: either you extend us some credit until we can resolve the Vong situation, or we can just forget the whole thing."

"Forget the whole thing?" Lando said with a disbelieving laugh. "General, we have a contract. The contract calls on you to make payments upon receipt, not to give you credit when there's money problems."

Taar tossed down the datapad. "I am trying to stop aggressive nihilists from taking over two galaxies here, Calrissian. Do I look like I give a damn about some contract? You should be happy that you're dealing with me instead of some of the other gents who have been in command, 'cause they would take your ships and expect a thank you for not vaporizing your corporate headquarters for the lip. You'll get paid when I have it, or we can just terminate the contract right now."

Lando fumed. "I know you're still paying Kuat Drives and the Borg in full."

"Kuat Drives stuck with us through the worst of it many times," Taar said, "and the Borg, bastards though they may be, are at least willing to fight for nothing to deal with raiders and pirates. You sit in your warm safe office and expect to get lead teat? No no no. Put your neck on the line, Calrissian, and maybe I'll change my mind, but for now you take what we offer or start your own shuttle service." The connection was abruptly terminated. Lando stared for a few seconds at the holoprojector, then slowly leaned forward and tapped the button that lowered it into his desk.

Cloud City... Lando would always remember the day the Executor appeared in the sky over Bespin and the Dark Lord of the Sith himself contacted him. They could take the entire colony with ease, shut it down for good, and there'd be no one to appeal to. The shadow that loomed over them had finally taken notice. But Lord Vader had offered a deal instead, a minor inconvenience by comparison. A few platoons of stormtroopers to help catch Han, Chewie, and some Rebel bigwig to lay a trap for someone else. They weren't even going to be killed, just held to lure this Skywalker kid in for Vader, and then the Empire would go on its way, leaving Han and his friends behind, and Calrissian would keep Cloud City.

Lando had believed it. He'd wanted to believe it so badly he would have greeted Han in the buff if Vader demanded it. All in all, it was a very reasonable offer.

And then things spiraled out of control. Vader didn't just take the trio captive, he tortured them, and then decided to give Han to Fett. The Empire would make more and more demands until finally Lando saw through the reasonableness and recognized the deal was a sham. He was losing the city; all he'd done was help the Empire on his way down.

"Extend us some credit?" It sure sounds reasonable...

Alema Rar had arrived a week ago, guided by the mind of the Oracle. She had no idea what to expect; she'd seen the previous encampment of the Sith during her time with the Jedi, and the evil had still been tangible in the air. Her minds eye had cast up ghastly images of forbidden rites being performed, of contacting black forces in the hopes of seizing even more power. The collection of pre-fabricated rooms seemed absolutely humdrum by comparison.

The Oracle had been waiting for her. There had been several others about, and even more that Alema could sense, but introductions seemed the last thing on the Oracle's mind. Instead she'd asked Alema a few questions. They were simple and direct. What did she want? What was she willing to do to get it? Was she willing to swear total allegiance to her new master? Alema had expected this and given her answers; the Oracle seemed pleased, although in a distant way.

And after that had been nothing. The Oracle had ordered her to confine herself to an assigned room away from the others, to talk to no one. She was only to study the Sith texts the Oracle gave her, and to wait until the Oracle summoned her. Over a week passed, and patience was not easy, but Alema buried herself in study to keep from giving in to other temptations. She had a feeling the tests here would not be like the ones at the Jedi Academy, but would instead be practical application and likely lethal.

And then the door opened, and the Oracle waited. "Come," was all she said, and Alema quickly did so. The Oracle explained a little more about their relationship, master and apprentice. And that was how she introduced Alema to everyone, "My new apprentice." The faces were all familiar; she'd seen them when Ben had killed Jacen. None regarded her with anything friendlier than disinterest, and Ben himself was a boiling cauldron of contempt; he'd refused to even speak to her.

The tour ended at the entrance to one of the cells, which was opened to reveal Annika Hansen Skywalker, currently lounging on her cot. Master and apprentice entered the cell as Annika sat up. "This is Seven," the Oracle announced, gesturing dismissively towards her Borg captive. "A rather stubborn woman, but hopefully will learn the error of her ways." Annika responded with only a look of contempt.

"We've met," Alema said. The Jedi had worked with Annika more than once during some of Anakin Solo's assignments.

"No, we haven't," Annika said darkly. "I knew Alema Rar; I've no idea what this thing is."

Alema stared at the Borg, who unblinkingly met it. The Oracle said nothing, she just watched. So Alema acted, and Annika soon found herself choking from the invisible grip on her throat. "No," the Oracle said, "that will achieve nothing."

"Part of being a Sith is being respected for one's power," Alema said, remembering the books she'd been given.

"The dead offer no respect, and she's potentially useful to me." Alema released her, and Annika gasped for air. "Seven has learned to respect me over the course of her imprisonment, isn't that so?" Annika turned and spat in the Oracle's general direction. The Oracle shook her head as she approached her prisoner. "Although she still remains defiant at times. She has cowered before me on more than one occasion."

"Get out," Annika snapped. The Oracle raised her hands, causing Annika to flinch in anticipation. "Out!"

"You can sense her fear, can't you?" the Oracle asked. "Underneath it all she fears me and what I can do to her." Force lightning crackled around the Oracle's hand, causing Annika to jump. "But even these tools aren't always necessary."

"She's going to kill you, Alema," Annika said. "She's using the Vong to-"

"Yes, using the Vong," the Oracle said. "And then they will be tossed aside. I'll leave that to you if you like," she offered, then turned her attention back to Annika. "The mind is a wonderful thing," the Oracle cooed as she ran a hand over Annika's head before the woman could flinch away. "Someone gifted like our Borg friend can recall all the memories on command, but most of us aren't so fortunate. Still, they're all in there somewhere, collecting dust, waiting. Every secret thought and stolen kiss and small transgression is there. Someone skilled enough could no doubt learn our friend's every secret, although I doubt we'd ever meet someone with that much power. But memory has different paths, common elements, if you're skilled enough to know the thread to pull."

"The ways to find their secrets?" Alema asked.

"Perhaps, if you were so inclined and willing to patiently sift through it all." The Oracle gave a dismissive wave. "But I prefer to work more directly." She reached out and Annika's limbs froze in the Oracle's mental grip. "As I said, everything that's ever happened is in there. Let's say I gathered up all the times when there was horrible pain, took the threads, and heaved-"

Annika screamed; it was high-pitched and pitiful. Burning, freezing, aching, and wrapped up in agony, she lacked even the strength to move. The memories were as clear and substantial as if the moment was now, but they overlapped one another in a mosaic of torment, that left her blubbering even after the Oracle released her.

"And that is but a small taste of what the Dark side can give you, my young apprentice," the Oracle said quietly.

While being admittedly impressed, Alema nevertheless questioned her new master. "What use would that be to me against the Vong? Their minds are untouched by the Force."

"It's to show, child, how the Force can be used beyond the limitations of Jedi trickery. A master of the Force is not just some super-warrior, they have access to power beyond anything you've dared dream. You've already sensed the power, but it's raw and thus out of your control. I can help you tame it, and with it you will become so powerful you won't even need to activate your lightsaber to destroy Vong." She led the way out of the cell. "And I think we'll start with a little ability known as illusion..."

At its best, a collection of Sith hold barely-restrained tolerance for each other. Each fellow Sith is, in the end, either a potential obstacle to personal advancement, or a threat. It was played out when Ben Skywalker tried and failed to kill the Oracle recently, and it preyed on the minds of his students. Molly was unlikely to kill him, although even she wasn't completely beyond such temptations, but she had far more to worry about from a student hoping for sudden advancement. The unspoken hierarchy put her between them and Ben, and if it weren't for years working for Section 31 she'd likely have been stabbed in the back long ago, Force powers or no.

Then Alema Rar had come. Fallen Jedi, and suddenly of such interest to the Oracle. She was the apprentice now. The term had always been used regarding Ben -once the nature of the Oracle had been revealed- to indicate that he was not the master in this relationship. With this new member it seemed to leave Ben without a defined position. He was instructor to the students, and ran the Oracle's errands, but he had no traditional Sith role. Where he and Alema fit in the hierarchy was now uncertain.

It should have been no surprise that it was J'Dan who made the move. The Klingons, for all their talk of honor, were always quick to strike against a foe when they were weakened, and with the uncertainty provided by Alema and the sound defeat by the Oracle in his failed assassination attempt, Ben looked vulnerable. And like a Sith, he didn't announce his intentions, but simply struck while Ben was discussing the training with Molly in one of the main rooms. If Ben were cut down by surprise, it would be his own fault; a Sith should know that he is always surrounded by enemies, even if they are simultaneously his friends.

However, Ben was not taken by surprise. He was surprised to be sure, that someone would dare to try to best him with their limited training. But he was always ready for a lightsaber between the shoulder blades, and caught the assassin's strike with a flurry of movement and crashing of blades. To his credit, J'Dan immediately kept up the attack, without a trace of fear that he'd bitten off more than he could hope to chew. For Ben's part, however, this was just the final indignity. A man who had risen so high, had attained so much, now fallen so low that the damn students thought they had a chance of outperforming him. Hate boiled in his blood always, but in recent days he had set it to an even higher simmer than normal, and he stalked around the place in mute frustration at his position.

The Klingon had no idea just how grave a mistake he'd made. Ben didn't want to just kill something, he wanted to pour all his rage upon it first, every single angst that riled him day and night. J'Dan was bigger and stronger, but each blow from Ben's blade seemed to knock him back further, as if the human was channeling the strength of a giant. The sound of each blow was like a sledgehammer on neutronium. Finally, Ben brought his blade around and slashed between the Klingon's third and fourth finger, shutting down his lightsaber as well as sending half of his hand and a sliver of arm spiraling off. J'Dan cried out in pain and anger, but didn't back down; there was still too much pride in there to do anything else.

In anyone else, Ben might have had a murderous rage, but that basically defined his ground state. Ben never had to get mad to kill anyway, it came as naturally as combing his hair. But in Ben was something well-beyond his normal bounds, and it had been waiting for a release for a long time. J'Dan had been unfortunate enough to volunteer. The Klingon stood there, sweating as Ben's anger burned, and burned, and burned...

His hair smoldered first, briefly, before J'Dan's entire body lit up with flame. Now he let out a cry, but Ben reached into the fire and grabbed the Klingon, holding him there even as his own arm burned. Several others, including Molly, watched on as the immolation continued, until J'Dan crumpled to his feet. Ben still gripped him, and stared with open malice at the now dead Sith. Several minutes passed and the flames began to die down, and Ben shoved the corpse aside. Black bits of burnt flesh like wasp paper fluttered at the movement, but Ben just stormed out of the room. The onlookers, however, got the unspoken message. Despite appearances, Ben was on top of his game, and was not someone to be kriffed with.

Go To Part XII
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