How about another fanfic (Manifest Destiny)

[Singular Quartet]

And why did they meet a crazy sith on some asteroid, out of curiosity?

[Mr Bean]

Can you think of a better place to meet a Sith?

[Singular Quartet]

Can you think of a better place to meet a Sith?

I don't know... a bar?

[Mr Bean]

Its just me but I if I where a Crazy Sith the last place you'd find me is a bar
Now a normal Sith, Yeah, probably force-choking people whilly nilly on Corellia but Crazy Sith?

Naa maybe hiding in the Ventlation Ducks of the Imperal Palace?

[Singular Quartet]

Its just me but I if I where a Crazy Sith the last place you'd find me is a bar
Now a normal Sith, Yeah, probably force-choking people whilly nilly on Corellia but Crazy Sith?

Naa maybe hiding in the Ventlation Ducks of the Imperal Palace?

I suppose... A crazy Sith is just, well, scary. And what is he? A demented Yoda? It said he was small, squat and wearing robes...

Oh, and Mark.

ME WANT MORE!!!

[Mark S]

Maybe I'm making him the anti-Yoda? Maybe I'll give a little Yoda goatee? Seriously though, do you want me to give away my plot lines? You'll have to think about why the little guy would be there at that time or just continue to read and find out. Eventually I might get around to figuring out how in the world I'm going to tie this all in together. I hope you continue reading. It's nice to have feedback.

[Mark S]

Oh yeah...

Ventilation Ducks?

Aren't they a California hockey team?

[Mr Bean]

Give him a stick with a hidden switch blade! And Tattos!

Bumperstickers?

[Singular Quartet]

Maybe I'm making him the anti-Yoda? Maybe I'll give a little Yoda goatee? Seriously though, do you want me to give away my plot lines? You'll have to think about why the little guy would be there at that time or just continue to read and find out. Eventually I might get around to figuring out how in the world I'm going to tie this all in together. I hope you continue reading. It's nice to have feedback.

Sure. What you were kidding when someone saicd you had the next umpteen bagilion pages done already?

[Mark S]

Actually it's only like ten or fifteen more pages now a days. I'll post the next bit shortly.

[Crayz9000]

Because Dalton is
Neeeeeeeeeeever there

Watch how long it takes for him to reply to this even if you emailed him

Well, I can create a SD.NET Fanfiction Archive alongside the ASVS-AA on my own server. It'll take time though, to be sure.

[Mr Bean]

Two weeks not a bad response time there Crazy

[Crayz9000]

Two weeks not a bad response time there Crazy

Yah, I just went through the entire thread from the beginning. I'm sorry, but if you read a thread I posted in the OT forum you might have noticed that I was absent for the past several weeks. That's a lot of catching up to do.

[Mr Bean]

Exactly my point you are gone quite often (IE Two weeks IS the fasts time you've ever responed)

[Crayz9000]

Exactly my point you are gone quite often (IE Two weeks IS the fasts time you've ever responed)

Uh-huh. My average response time is more on the order of hours or minutes...

[Mr Bean]

I'll just keep deluding myself in that case, thank you very much. And as a final warning, do not trifle with the mods. Muhaha.

[Singular Quartet]

Having fun, are we?

[Mr Bean]

The funny part is the fact that the delay inbetween posts, editing my posts just provides more proof for my postion(And its not a hard one to defend) that Crazy9000 is never here


I mock him and it takes(If it was him and Not David, Hi David!(He tends to use yellow in editing though) Yes I do ) over 27 Hours for him to respond

[Crayz9000]

I mock him and it takes(If it was him and Not David, Hi David!(He tends to use yellow in editing though) Yes I do ) over 27 Hours for him to respond

Did you stop to consider that I'm posting from the Pacific time zone (GMT -0800 hours)?

[Mark S]

"Now gentlemen," Gallus said, not turning around, as the starscape stretched into a mottled, spinning backdrop. Somewhere during the fight he had lost all aspect of humility and gratitude. "You have asked to be taken to a safe port where you can find transport to your home. I'll do better. I'll take you back to your own galaxy and your own world myself. Right now our course is taking us to a ship that will be a little better suited for our purposes."

All three Federation jaws hit the floor at once. With lightning reflexes Bala drew his weapon and took a step back. It seemed Lieutenant Jones had been right.

"Sorry Darth," the Commander intoned coldly as his blaster aimed for the smaller man's back, "that won't be necessary. I think we can take it from here. Thanks for the help though."

With great care the human squeezed the trigger of the alien weapon. He couldn't be sure where exactly Gallus's vital spots were but he had plenty of energy left in the cell.

Click. There was no discharge!

Bala looked from his victim's back, to his gun, to his companions and back again. Click, click. He took a half step forward as he tried again and stopped short at the amused voice coming from beneath the black hood.

"Something wrong with your weapon, Commander?" Gallus laughed as he spun his chair around for the first time.

The hooded pilot reached out as if to grasp the ineffective blaster, it leapt to his hand like a puppy into the arms of a waiting child. In the same instant Bala's already damaged frame flew back to slam into the unforgiving bulkhead. He hung there, as if he was lying on the floor and the rest of them were on the walls. Gallus righted the gun in his small hand and pulled back on the trigger. Red energy scared the door frame centimeters from Bala's head.

"What a pity," the shadows under the flowing, black cloak seemed to grow. "It seems to be working now."

Fear and rage bubbled over in Jonesy and he jumped to his feet ready to turn the little grey bastard into a smoldering pile of ash and bone. Somehow, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the trigger to move. Not one hair.

"Sit down Lieutenant Jones," It was a tone of annoyance more then anything else. Jonesy didn't move to sit, or do anything for that matter, but stood poised instead, blaster aimed squarely at Gallus' head.

"I said, Sit... Down... Lieutenant." This time Darth Gallus looked straight into the human's eyes. Jonesy found himself sitting, there was no way he could resist.

A slight smile returned to the snout protruding from that bottomless hood. "Good. Now is this anyway to treat the person who just saved your lives? Why Lieutenant Pellax here is the only one of you with manners."

Not a muscle on Pellax's face twitched, not an eyelash batted as he slowly tapped out the disarming sequence on his finger tips. Perhaps suicide could wait. He might just make it to his next life yet.


Mai-Men continued the unending vigil to protect the last remnants of her true self. To look at her, even her own parents would not recognize her now, she knew. Both her arms and legs had been replaced with cold, functional cybernetics along with much of her torso. Her face had been altered as well. Her ears were now gone and replaced, her left eye had been 'upgraded' and much of her lower jaw was now enhanced with implants. She could hardly recognize herself.

But she knew it was her body she saw. The Force showed her and she trusted. Not only that but she was picking the image up from the drones that had business around her. She had watched the whole transformation as it had happened. Had felt the flow of the Force becoming smaller and smaller within her and then grow again. But not in the same way this time. She could feel the energy of the Force flowing through what now served as her hand but not the same as it used to. This was more like how she felt when she concentrated on its flow through rocks or steel. It wasn't really her.

Upgrade now completed on nonfunctional drone 1 of 1.
1 of 1, it is useless to resist. You will be assimilated. Your biological and cultural distinctiveness will be added to our own. Surrender immediately.

Then, through the monotony of the Borg mantra, through the din of the collective, a voice emerged. Different. Singular.

"Mai-Men? Where are you? Why are you hiding?" The tones were female and they spoke in Republic Standard. Warm and motherly yet seductive at the same time. Something was searching her mind as it cooed revoltingly.

"Come out, Mai. You are very strong but you must be tired by now." She was tired. In fact, she was nearly at her emotional end. There wasn't a time in her memory that didn't contain droning words or mental attacks, as far as she new.

"So very tired," the motherly viper sympathized. "You can't hide forever. Even as we speak I'm finding ways in through your defenses."

What?! She must be lying! Mai-Men poured mentally over her barriers and fire-walls. Some WERE failing!

"Force don't leave me!" The girl cried within her mind. Her concentration began shifting rapidly, trying to monitor all fronts at once.

"There you are child," the presence was closer now. "I'd like to talk to you about this Force. It's of great interest to me. You want to please me don't you?"

"NO!" Mai-Men began to scream but caught herself and tried to regain control. "No." She said again, as firmly as her quivering voice could muster.

"That's right child. Your hostility is as useless as your defenses." They were probing her mental barriers again. Stronger this time. And she was so tired. It was getting hard to even feel the Force any more. How could she hope to resist forever.

"Let me talk to you Mai-Men," the voice continued. "You will submit eventually."

"No..." It was right behind her now. She could feel it.

"Resistance is futile..." The voice had become cold and much less feminine.

"No..."

"You will be assimilated..." It was now no longer a singular voice, but a chorus of millions filling her head.

"NO..." Mai's calm was leaving her completely. How could she survive without control?

"Your biological and technological distinctiveness will..."

"NOOO!!!"

Mai-Men's psyche panted as she tried to center herself. She almost hadn't noticed it. The silence. The droning had stopped! This alone made her want to release herself to sweet unconscious but she knew it wouldn't last. They would come back! Yes! The voices would always be back, never stopping their chant! Never! Unless she got to them first. She knew she had the power now. Why she had never thought to go on the offensive before never entered her mind.

She had a course of action before her, something more then just holding off her attackers, and this energized her. It was time to expand to new ground, take new territory. They were going to know what it was like to be invaded, mentally raped!

In the nondescript Borg laboratory aboard a nondescript Borg cube, a slight scowl pulled at the mouth of a comatose drone that had once been human. All other activity in the area had ceased. All other drones lay prostrate on the floor.

Malfunction at section 12, sub-section 35.2. Drones 1 through 8 of 8 are no longer responding to Collective command.
Malfunction at section 12, sub-sections 35.1 and 35.3...


Four days had passed after Picard's return before any word was again heard from the wormhole. In that time the Enterprise was joined by a small fleet of vessels, most Federation, some not. It seemed as though word could travel at warp speed, for nearly every power in the quadrant had brought a ship with their most prized ambassador to make an appearance. Starfleet didn't mind, the more ships on their side, the more insurance they had against any more monster ship attacks.

The Ferengi had arrived, of course, hoping to begin trade immediately with the new power. The Klingons had soon followed on Starfleet's request, there to introduce themselves as one of the major powers of the area. A chance to rattle their Bat'Leths and intimidate any potential invaders. And, inevitably, no one could stop a trio of Romulan ships from decloaking and demanding their fair place. This was all besides the myriad of Federation vessels, from Vulcan to Felinoid. In the span of the four days, the whole region had turned into quite the circus. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of this now fabled alien vessel.

Then, near the end of the fourth day, word came. Like a flash of light in a room full of cockroaches, the message sent everyone scrambling to get ready. The delegation from the Galactic Republic was arriving in approximately three hours. The time had been delivered in seconds, of coarse, because of their logically standard length. A diplomatic ship was quickly chosen as neutral ground for the introductions, a Federation ship called the Plato, and the various factions beamed aboard group by group. The title of this new organization from the other side was lost on no one.


Luke Skywalker, the oldest, wisest and most venerable of all living Jedi, sat quietly meditating on the Lambda class shuttle as his shiny blue interpreter piloted them out of the landing bay of their Corellian Corvette escort. The hood of the Jedi master's black robe concealed his aged face in shadows as he looked back over the years and took stock of his life.

The wide-eyed, whining farm boy that had blasted his way out of the desert with two pirates, two wanted droids and an old hermit all those years ago was long gone. So too was the young, idealistic rebel commander. He had seen many things. Done many things. Things a lot of people in the Republic now thought of only as legend and Alliance propaganda.

He had helped defeat the Empire and had brought his father back from the Dark Side, though he was the only one to appreciate this. He had founded an academy to repopulate the Republic with those who had kept peace and justice for thousands of years. He, himself, had trained hundreds of the Jedi that still patrolled the galaxy. Many of which could be placed among the greatest of the order.

There was bitterness in these victories though; More than once in his life had the Dark Side called to him as it had his father. The academy that was to be the Jedi's glory was now all but abandoned, too many students, not enough teachers. Apprentices were now mostly sought out by individual knights who looked after their training until they were deemed ready. The Jedi counsel of the past, which The Force had shown him, had never yet been restored. Even his oldest, most experienced pupils were not powerful enough to take those places. Perhaps in the future they would have the numbers and experience to change this. Worst of all, many of his young Jedi continually skirted the edges of the Dark Side. Even some of the older ones did not have the control or discipline of the Jedi from the Old Republic. As a result, many were seduced, becoming Sith, and had to be confronted.

Yes, the Sith had returned, even years after their extinction with the death of the emperor. But not in the same form. They no longer restricted themselves to only two. Those were the ways of the past. More importantly, none of them were yet powerful enough to destroy all the others. He had personally had to deal with many of these rogues. It was always painful having to destroy someone you knew and had once loved.

People said he was one of the greatest men in the galaxy, all he could say was that he had tried. No, wait, there was no try, was there Master Yoda.

"We will be docking in a few moments, Sir," T-2C5 informed Luke.

"Yes, I know that," was the only reply.


The room in which the initial meeting was to take place was beautifully appointed, intentionally neutral in every way, and filled to bursting with groups from a dozen different races all dressed to impress. They had all watched through the rooms large bay windows as the strange alien craft popped through the wormhole and held position, ejecting a small shuttle. By now everyone was fairly certain the visitors did not possess transporter technology, which seemed to make them all feel more confident. Now they waited; Ferengi playing with their ledgers, Klingons playing with their ceremonial knives, everyone chatting about what the aliens would look like or how many there would be.

Eventually the door at the far end of the large room opened with a smooth hiss. All heads turned, ready for a long precession of names, titles and handshaking. What greeted them was a stiff-looking, metallic blue android, a single man in a hooded, black robe and the captain and first officer of the Plato looking somewhat apologetic. Murmurs began to flow through the room like smoke.

"Just one?"

"It looks like a priest?"

"It looks like the grim reaper."

"One to represent their whole quadrant?"

Luke smiled underneath his hood. The thoughts flew to him like mynocks to a generator. Unfortunately, at his age he was so close to becoming one with the Force that sometimes he had trouble distinguishing which were his own thoughts and which were being brought to him.

He stopped a short distance from the crowd and slowly pulled the hood back to reveal his eighty some-odd year old, very human face. The Jedi smiled warmly, the Force told him the display would put most of them at ease. The Force, however, had not told him he would see human beings amongst the crowd now staring at him, but no hint of the surprise crossed his aged face.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," T-2C5 began with a slight bow. "Allow me to introduce to you the representative of the Galactic Republic, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker."

Luke bowed his head and addressed the gathering. "I understand that you have learned our language from this droid as I have learned yours. This will only be the beginning of the understanding our two cultures shall share." A few of the delegations from outside the Federation glared and coughed at their Starfleet counterparts at this statement. None of this was lost to the Jedi.

As the crowd converged to offer hands of welcome to the frighteningly human diplomat, Counselor Troi turned to Captain Picard. "He keeps his emotions completely in check Captain. I haven't seen anything quite like it before, outside a Vulcan."

"Do you think he's hiding something?"

"That's just it Captain, there's no way of knowing. I could sense the warmth of his smile, but other than that he's a blank slate. But it's not that they're controlled to the point of emotionless, like a Vulcan, they're just in complete check, like a man who inspects every word of every file on his desk before letting anything pass."

"Fascinating."

"And there's something else," the counselor continued. "He brings something with him."

"You mean like a symbiot ?" Picard wondered.

"No, not in the Trill sense. When I look at this man I sense him larger than he should be. Like he's connected to something in someway. His presence fills the room. It's hard to explain."

The two stopped their quiet discussion in time to hear a snippet of another near by. It was two Ferengi, "...just what we need. More Hu-mons."


"So many questions! So many questions. Calm your minds!" Luke raised his wrinkled hands as if to ward off the next volley of inquiries. "Isn't it late in this galaxy too?"

It was late. Only a few of the more die-hard emissaries still remained, hoping to gather as much information about the other side of the wormhole as they could. They were those who lived for encounters like this, and of course, those who couldn't abide by anyone else getting an upper hand. There were also those who had simply fallen asleep in the large, comfortable chairs where everyone now sat.

"I believe it is zero-zero forty nine, Sir," T-2C5 offered from his side.

"Thank you Ceefive," the old man smiled at the droid's exact interpretation of his statement. "That's certainly late enough for these old bones."

"Of course, of course Master Skywalker," Starfleet ambassador Rolland Trevor apologized. "I think we're all getting a little tired. Shall we resume in the morning?"

"That would be great Rolland. And please, it's just Luke. I never liked being called Master, even by droids." Luke rose from his seat quite smoothly for his age and shook the other man's offered hand. That was when the Force told him it was time. The reason he had insisted on handling this mission himself, the reason he had come with only the droid, all flashed through his mind. This was where the Force had led him. He could hear it at that moment, comforting him. It was all exactly as he had foreseen it.

Two seconds later the Plato, and everyone on her, exploded in a flash of expanding gas and a cloud of debris.


"OH... MY... GOD!" Jean-Luc Picard's words blasted through the communicator to echo around the bridge and hang in the air like a bad smell. Two teenagers walking past his quarters looked from the door to each other and quickened their pace. "I'm coming right up, Number One. Have the Admiralty and the other Starfleet Captains on screen when I get there. Try to get a hold of the Republic ship and convey our shock and sympathy."

"That last command is going to be easier said then done, Captain." Riker's disembodied voice replied into the half light as Picard got into uniform. "Immediately after the explosion she raised shields and retreated back into the wormhole."

Five minutes later the Captain of the Enterprise marched through a turbolift door to see over a dozen nervous faces filling his view screen. "Damage report, Number One."

"No damage to any ships, Sir. The Pluto was luckily positioned a safe distance from every vessel."

"Captain Picard, good, are we all here now?" The words were those of Admiral Waynwright, a rugged looking man of about fifty-five with salt-and-pepper hair and beard to match. His face took up the center of the screen. "Maybe it's the fact that I've just been woken up by fourteen frantic messages being routed to me at once, but I thought I was just told by good Captain Miyamoto that the USS Pluto has been destroyed along with the Federations top First-Contact specialists and the ambassador from the Galactic Republic. A man you told me not three days ago was seemingly their most important religious leader."

"I believe almost all of us here have just been woken up Admiral but yes, it would appear that those are the facts." Picard looked at the haggard faces of his colleagues and knew what they were all thinking. They were going to be at war again.

"Well then," the Admiral grunted. "Somebody please tell me what the hell happened!"


Captain Pooda sat behind his large, beautifully carved hardwood desk and watched as the records of the Corvette 'Mendela' unfolded. Beside him rasped his executive officer and spread about the room were the captains of the other military vessels of his 'Wormhole Fleet', including the Mendela's. There were enough grey suits in that office to fill a closet.

"Time index zero zero forty-nine." The sterile voice of the computer intoned as the scene began to play.

The Mendela's bridge was like every other corvette's that the assembled captains had seen. The ship's captain sat in his chair reading over some report or other while the crew went about their duties in a relaxed manner. They obviously didn't expect anything to happen.

"Captain?" The pilot, a Devaronian, turned to address the man.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" The captain looked up from his work with a smile. "The job too stressful for you?"

The pilot barred his rows of razor sharp teeth and laughed. "No, Captain I just..."

Through the front screen behind the Lieutenant's horns the alien vessel where the formal talks were taking place, the vessel that now held Luke Skywalker, disappeared in a flash of light.

The captain shot from his chair and took two step forward as the pilot whipped his head around. "By the Force!" He gasped.

"It's a trap." The com/scan officer could hardly get the words out.

"By the Force," the captain repeated. "They killed Skywalker! It's a trap! Red alert! Shields up! We're out numbered about fifty to one Lieutenant, get us the hell out of here."

The corvette quickly wheeled around until the wormhole nexus came into view. Upon request, the computer playing the images cut back to the explosion, only this time viewed from an external camera. As they all watched the destruction relived again and again silence hung in the room. For hours they poured over the recording from every angle, every magnification and every view. It didn't help. They still couldn't believe their eyes.

"Now Max," the captain of the Destroyer 'Razorback' addressed the man they had all just watched on screen. "Don't you think it's a little premature to shout 'trap'?" There was no malice in the statement. "I mean, why blow up there own ship? They must have lost a lot of their own people. Maybe it was just an accident?"

"Unless there wasn't anyone else on board and they were jamming any means of contact." This came from a Twi'Lek captain sitting in the corner.

"But why the whole ship?" Someone else chimed in. "Why not just kill him personally?"

"Skywalker was the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. Destroying the whole ship is probably the only way to kill him. Besides, this way we sit here wondering whether it was an accident or not."

"That's right," the Mendela's captain added. "He was the most powerful Jedi. Why did he walk right into a trap? Why didn't he see it coming?"

"Maybe he did," Pooda finally spoke. "Remember, he insisted on going alone."

"In any event," Captain Tagger of the Sunstar began. "I assume it wasn't in our agenda to destroy the ship or Skywalker..."

"Absolutely not!" Pooda agreed.

"Then it must have been them. When Skywalker set foot on that ship his well being became their responsibility. For whatever reason, he is now dead. That man was one of the most respected and revered citizens of this galaxy. The people of the Republic will want blood."

"At this point Tagger, I agree with them." Pooda's face had taken a grim tone by the end of the conversation. "Gentlemen, I am rapidly losing my patience with this United Federation of Planets and their Starfleet. With the possible exception of the emissary that left here four days ago I have seen nothing but hostility from them. But we must look and hope for a reasonable explanation for this disaster. The citizens of the Republic will just have to wait for their blood."

From that it was apparent the meeting was over. One by one the holograms of the gathered captains blinked out of existence. When the room was empty of all but the fat captain and his first officer, the man leaned back and dragged his hands through his hair with a sigh. "I knew I shouldn't have let Skywalker through before the other two came back."

"I really don't think we would have been able to stop him, Sir."

[Mr Bean]

Did you stop to consider that I'm posting from the Pacific time zone (GMT -0800 hours)?

Did you ever stop and Consider I might be to?

Nice work agian Mark but what are &#8220 supposed to be? They riddle the fic

[Mark S]

They were originally quotation marks. There seemed to be some kind of mistranslation when I copied it over from wordperfect. I went through and edited them. All very strange.

[Singular Quartet]

Did you stop to consider that I'm posting from the Pacific time zone (GMT -0800 hours)?

Did you ever stop and Consider I might be to?

Nice work agian Mark but what are &#8220 supposed to be? They riddle the fic

The &#8220s and other such letters are HTML code for specific characters, such as ' or ". I was getting them too. Mark, try to just type them out...

[Crown]

OH MY GOD! You killed Skywalker! OH MY GOD!

Or did you?....


Loved it! Mark this story just has me sucked in! More Please!

[Vympel]

Just awesome.