Dawn of Forever, Part XXIV

It was the day before the wedding, and Han was looking into a few last minute details when he got a visit from CorSec. He never really got on with them, and with the tightening of security, they were even less pleasant to deal with than usual. "What's the problem?" Han asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"There's an issue with your cargo," the lead one said. The other agent just stood behind him and looked intimidating, because that's a fun job that requires little in the way of thought or exertion.

"I didn't have any cargo," Han said. "Just personal equipment that was itemized in the report I gave you."

"Then there's an error in your list," the CorSec agent said. "You and your companion will have to come with us until this is straightened out.

Han weighed his options. The Reshad's had connections, so they might be able to iron this out. Then again, this was obviously just a misunderstanding, one he could probably clear up in a couple of hours. He'd hate to screw up Anakin's wedding for something like this. "Okay," he said, and he and Kilana were brought down to the security office at the docking bay where the Falcon had landed. They met with yet another agent, apparently higher up because now both of the others were assuming the "I'm intimidating" stance.

"Mr. Solo," he said with a nod. "Nil Comens, CorSec. There's a serious protocol issue about your cargo."

"I don't have any cargo," Han said again.

"Then it wasn't on-"

"What exactly are we talking about here?" Han asked, getting irritated.

Comens didn't look happy about being interrupted. "Your droid, Mr. Solo."

"Droid?" Han said. "I don't have any droid."

"It was on your ship," Comens said. "It says you were transporting it."

"I don't have any droid," Han repeated.

"And it's missing a restraining bolt," Comens said. "Docking procedure is quite clear that all off-world droids must be fitted with a restraining bolt unless you get special permission."

"I - don't - have - any - droid," Han said again, hoping the point would sink in.

"Perhaps you'd like to inspect the unit in question," Comens said, gesturing towards the adjacent door. Han stormed to it, Kilana close behind. He entered the room, and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Greetings," the droid said.

"You?!" Han said in shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm in a bit of a spot," the droid said. "Sorry to inconvenience you."

"Who is this?" Kilana said.

The droid turned to her. "Ah, you said 'who' and not 'what,'" the droid remarked. "I like you already, humanoid. I would offer to buy you a drink if we were in a bar, tavern, inn, or social club, but as we are not, and I have no credits to spare, I won't. But it's the thought that counts, or so I'm told."

The Defiance, current flagship of the Empire, is an Executor-class star destroyer. Miles and miles of corridors, millions of personnel, thousands of rooms... it didn't matter how good security was. With a ship that size, it was impossible to keep Sith from finding a way to breach it. At the moment, they were in one of the cargo holds. Ben Skywalker took out the mask of Revan and slipped it on.

At Ben's side stood Molly O'Brien. After what happened, she was the only Sith he felt he could trust not to try and kill him. In some ways, it could be considered a failing, but at the moment, even a Sith Lord needed a friend. "Don't fight unless we must," he told her. "We don't want to tip our hand too soon. The war room is several kilometers away; we dare not let them escape."

"Yes, master," Molly said. She was also the only one to still call him that.

Ben took his lightsabers into hand and took a deep breath. Once we've succeeded, he thought, I can kill as many of them as he like. The thought pleased him and he set off for the war room, Molly close behind.

Han was fuming. "Roger, what the hell were you doing?"

"Don't you think introductions are in order first?" Roger said. "As I understand humanoid social discourse, that is usually what takes place. As in, 'Hello! This is-'"

"Shut - up!" Han said.

"Kilana," Kilana said by introduction. "And your name is Roger, I take it?"

"Yes, Kilana. First and last."

"Er, what?"

"That's his name," Han said, trying to get this out of the way. "Roger Roger."

"So much goodness one name wasn't enough," Roger said. "And you said 'his,'" he beamed at Han, which was difficult for a droid unless it involved a laser.

"I meant 'its,'" Han shot back.

"I still have feelings," Roger said. "Kilana, you are very kind, so please call me Roger. But you, Han, tsk tsk, should stick with the more formal Mr. Roger."

"Good," Han said, at least pleased that the silliness was over. "Now what's going on? Why do they think you were on my ship?"

"Because I was," Roger said.

"What?"

"Excuse me," Kilana said. "I'm sorry, but what's going on? How do you know each other?"

"From the Rebellion," Roger said.

"That was a very long time ago," Han said. "And I didn't much care for the experience then, I'm not interested in re-living those days."

"Come on, Solo," Roger said. "We had some good times."

"You gave our position away on Prakith," Han said sharply.

"I was just trying to be friendly," Roger said. "You humans do hold your grudges. No one was hurt."

"You almost botched the operation!"

"Oh, but I helped in so many others." Roger's voice somehow managed to sound pleading. "Why must you hold my one failing against me?"

"One failing?! You were a disaster!"

"No one's perfect."

"You especially. Why do you think Leia transferred you?"

"She said my talents could be better used elsewhere."

"In the service of the Empire, probably."

"That's cruel," Roger said. "Mr. Skywalker was very kind by comparison. How is he, anyway?"

"He's dead," Han said.

"Oh, well, I guess he could be doing better."

"That's not very nice," Kilana said. "I'm starting to see Han's point of view."

"I'm sorry," Roger said. "I have trouble understanding this interplay still. But I do try," he said to Han.

"All you try is my patience," Han said.

"What kind of droid are you, anyway?" Kilana asked. "I've never seen your make before."

Roger seemed to take a bit of pride in the answer to the question. "I am an experimental battle droid designed by the Techno Union in service to the CIS. I was liberated from their lab and rebuilt by members of the Rebel Alliance to aid in their revolt against the Empire."

Kilana looked him up and down. He had a barrel chest, and his lower legs and forearms were oversized. His head, however, seemed like a heavily modified protocol droid's. A permanent smile had been painted on at some point, and a pair of moveable eyebrows were over each eye socket. When they moved one way, he looked happy; another, he looked psychotic. He seemed to be both at the same time.

"The CIS lost the war," Han said, "if you need further proof of what I'm saying."

"But the rebellion won," Roger pointed out.

"Fine, fine!" Han said. "Now just tell me why you were on my ship."

"Well, I had to escape," Roger said. "I was trapped for years on that world while the Vong were in control." His voice became edged with despair. "Do you have any idea what the Vong do to droids?! It was a nightmare! When I found your ship, I had to take my chance to get off that world!"

"The planet has been liberated, you moron!"

"Well I was hardly in the loop about that," Roger said. "All I knew was that things had become very unpleasant in Mr. Roger's neighborhood, and that I had to take whatever opportunity presented itself. Look, I stayed out of your way, didn't I? I could have overridden your lockout and stolen the ship, but I didn't. I'm not a bad droid, Solo."

"He has a point, Han," Kilana said. "If he was a humanoid instead of a droid, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"He's a walking bad luck charm," Han shot back.

"Let's just get him properly squared away," Kilana said. "It won't take long, I'm sure."

"No," Han said. "Because then he becomes our responsibility, and I do not need that hassle."

"But I can be useful," Roger said. "I've made some improvements since we last met. I have an extensible limb now."

"What, in your arms?" Kilana asked.

"No."

"Your legs."

"Guess again." He was greeted by silence. "Give up? It's-"

"I do not need this," Han said.

"Come on, Han," Kilana said. "He's kind of endearing in a weird way. I'll take responsibility for him."

"No!"

"Please?"

"Would you like to see it?" Roger asked.

"Roger, you're not helping," Kilana said.

"Listen, I have experience against the Vong," Roger explained. "I managed to survive for years under their nose. I can help you."

Han folded his arms. "And how do you know that we're interested in the Vong?"

"Well, I... read it in your logs, while I was, erm, trying to override your lockout to steal your ship." Roger looked sheepish. Han threw up his arms in defeat. "Sorry."

"If we get you out of this," Kilana said, "then you have to promise to do what we say, all right? You have to help us."

"I don't want his help," Han said in exasperation.

Kilana took Han's arm and led him aside. "Look," she said. "Sebastian didn't have to get me out of that pleasure pit, he did it because, inconvenient though it may be, he knew it was the right thing. I'm just doing the same thing."

"Roger is a menace," Han said.

"If we're not doing this to help those who desperately need our help, what are we doing then?" They both turned back to Roger, who waved. "I'll be responsible for him."

Han rolled his eyes. "If he causes any problems," he warned, "I'm dumping you both on the nearest planet I can find."

"I won't disappoint you," Roger said. They turned back and he waved again. "Enhanced hearing," he said.

"I already regret this," Han said, heading out of the room to take care of things with CorSec.

"You'll probably have to wear a restraining bolt for the time being," Kilana said.

Roger purred. "You are a naughty girl. Are you sure you don't want to see-"

"No! I mean, no thank you."

Annika sat up as the door opened. The Oracle entered. It was a simple statement that offered dozens of possible outcomes. Was she here to interrogate her, talk to her, humiliate her... whatever it was, it was unlikely to be pleasant. "Have you spoken with the Borg lately?" the Oracle asked. Apparently, today's subject was confusion.

"You've ensured that I can't," Annika said truthfully.

"But still, you are very wily, Seven." She persisted in referring to her by that name, as if to remind Annika that being a drone was once all she wanted. That's why Annika persisted in calling her "captain," as an indirect reminder of who it was that had struck the first deal with the Empire.

"If there is a way, I haven't found one," Annika said.

The Oracle nodded. "I believe you're telling the truth." She made a subtle gesture with the first two fingers of her left hand. "I've lowered the appropriate jamming fields," the Oracle announced. "I want you to contact the Borg."

"No," Annika said.

"You haven't even given me a chance to explain why," the Oracle said. "Don't be so closed-minded, Seven."

"I'm not going to help you, captain," Annika said.

"We'll see," the Oracle said in a voice that seemed to slither out of her mouth. "Contact the Borg; ask about your son."

Annika felt her blood drop ten degrees. "What's happened to him?" she asked, unable to disguise the fear in her voice.

"Why ask me?" the Oracle said. "The Collective knows."

Annika swallowed. "No. You're trying to trick me; you want me to establish a link so you can do something to the Borg."

The Oracle chuckled. "Now that would be a devious plan. I like how you think, Seven. You could accomplish so much if you would just join with me."

"How many ways can I say no?" Annika asked.

"Just contact them, Seven," the Oracle said. "I'd tell you myself, but you won't believe me. You won't believe that your son separated himself from the Collective, and even now is teetering on the edge of a complete mental breakdown."

"You are a liar," Annika shot back.

"Not to you," the Oracle said. "The only lies I told were to my failed servant. No, Seven; talk to the Borg and you'll see the truth."

Annika's jaw trembled as she fought the internal battle. It had to be a trick, had to be! But Sebastian was all she had left... if the Oracle wasn't lying, and there was a problem, she'd never forgive herself. She screwed her eyes shut and activated the implant.

Annika had readied herself this time, so that she was able to avoid the fear and despair when engulfed by the Collective. The Borg Queen appeared before her, a faint smile on her face. "Hello again, Seven of Nine."

"This may be a trick," Annika warned quickly. "Is there any sign someone's using my connection against you?"

"None," the Borg Queen said. "Why have you contacted us? Do you have more information about the Vong or the Sith?"

"I need information, actually. Tell me about my son. Has he left the Collective?"

The Borg Queen nodded, then filled her in on the details. "I'm afraid that, because he's separated, you can no longer speak to him through us."

"Is he all right?" Annika asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

"In body, yes," the Queen said. "But his mind has been in turmoil of late. Easily angered, destructive, irrational. We are doing all we can, but he refuses our aid."

"What's wrong?"

"He suffered a mental attack by the Vong," the Queen said. "You are aware that Sebastian came to us in part so that he would not have to face the grief of losing his wife and child, yes?"

"I suspected that was the case," Annika said. It was a natural temptation for any ex-Borg.

"Now that he has separated himself from us, he does not have us to shield him from that grief. The Vong seem to have used it as a weapon against him." The Queen fell silent for a time. "Our thoughts were one for a long time, Seven of Nine. Sebastian holds himself responsible for his wife's death, and his hatred for her killer runs deep. I am... concerned... that he may do something rash."

Annika swallowed. "Like his father did."

"Yes," the Queen said, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "He said the Vong attack has 'stirred up' his memories; no doubt that is the cause. Perhaps in time he will be able to again accept events and move on."

Annika knew that pain. But with time, she was able to accept Luke's death, cherishing the memories of the times they had. Even now, the thought of him brought the ache back. To have it resurface, however, in full flower, especially when the time they'd had was cut so short, must be torture. "Are you sure I can't speak to him?"

"Not without him rejoining the Collective," the Queen said, "which he refuses."

"I see," Annika said. And perhaps it was for the best. If what the Queen said was true, Sebastian could be skirting the boundary of the Dark side. The wrong word could push him too far.

Annika broke the connection and opened her eyes. The Oracle stood before her, unreadable. "Now you know," she said.

"Is this how you plan to torture me now?" Annika said.

"No, Seven," the Oracle said. "This is the last step for you. You've felt the power of the Dark side, you've learned the passion that comes with it, and you've witnessed its power. Now is the time for you to embrace it... for you to join with me."

"I never will," Annika said. "Stop wasting your breath."

"I can make it all right again," the Oracle said. "I can end his pain... save him from what you fear the most."

"You stay away from him!" Annika screamed.

"Calm down, Seven," the Oracle said. "I'm not going to do anything to Sebastian. I'm going to give him a very rare gift... a second chance."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jorrielle Sunspring Skywalker," the Oracle said. "Isn't it obvious, Seven? I'm going to offer him his wife back."

Go To Part XXV
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