Star Wars: Whispers of the Sith
Posted: 2002-10-24 10:08pm
Let me be clear of something before you begin. In all likelihood, the updates to this little work of mine will be sparse. I've got a lot on my plate right now. Chapter 3 is progressing ... slowly. I'm just throwing it out here now because I'd like to get more feedback on it. This is actually the third revision of the fic entitled "True Slayer" in the ASVS archives, and I'm pretty sure that this is the revision I'll stick with. I don't really want to release it in chapters anyway. I want to wait until the whole thing is done. So, think of this as a teaser. Apologies for the formatting. I know it sucks, but that's what you get when you copy and paste from Word. You'll just have to guess where the italics are.
With that in mind, enjoy.
Star Wars: Whispers of the Sith
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Star Wars Crossover Fan Fiction Piece.
Disclaimer
Star Wars and any associated names are property solely of Lucasfilm Ltd.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and any related character are property solely of Mutant Enemy, Inc. These trademarks are being used in this writing for entertainment only, and no profit is being derived from their usage.
This work of fan fiction completely ignores any references made to the Star Wars trilogy by any characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, especially Xander.
Time Frame:
Earth: c. 2000 CE.
Begins after the BtVS episode “Into the Woods,” in the middle of the fifth season.
Star Wars Galaxy: c. 2000 years before the events of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace and c. 2000 years after.
Dramatis Personae (Major)
Quinn Seth: Male Padawan Learner of Master Aryn Paulsen.
Approximately 21 years of age.
Buffy Summers: Female Vampire Slayer under the guidance of Rupert Giles.
Approximately 20 years of age.
Aryn Paulsen: Male Jedi Master. Quinn’s master and friend. Approximately 40 years of age.
Darth Raythe: Dark Lord of the Sith on Earth, master of Darth Cythe. Latest master in Earth Sith Lord line.
Darth Cythe: Sith Lord apprentice of Darth Raythe.
Willow Rosenberg: Female Wicca. Buffy’s best friend and confidante.
Approximately 20 years of age.
Rupert Giles: Male Watcher. Buffy’s Watcher and confidante.
Approximately 50 years of age.
Alexander Harris: Male construction worker. Buffy’s friend and confidante.
Approximately 20 years of age.
Background
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
STAR WARS
WHISPERS OF THE SITH
Nearly two-thousand years have passed since the once-fledgling Rebel Alliance struck a fatal blow to the evil GALACTIC EMPIRE at the Battle of Endor and declared a NEW REPUBLIC over nearly three quarters of the galaxy. The Jedi Order again serves the Republic as the keepers of the peace in the galaxy.
Jedi explorers have discovered a wormhole on the Outer Rim that leads to another galaxy. Motivated by the fear instilled by past extragalactic encounters, including the dreaded Yuuzhan Vong, factions of the Senate have called for the destruction of the wormhole, while others wish to explore it.
With the decision of whether to explore the wormhole stymied in the Senate, the Jedi Council has secretly dispatched two Jedi to investigate the strong Dark Side presence surrounding the wormhole, thinking it may hold answers to the mysteries of the ancient Sith…
Chapter 1
c. 2000 years after the events of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.
The stars hung in space, unperturbed by the massive amethyst flower of chaotic energy that stood resolutely in front of the small craft that dared approach it. Unconcerned with the new visitor in the system, the blossom’s tendrils of energy weepingly swayed about, as if conducting a soundless symphony in the vacuum of space.
The small exploratory shuttle was not an imposing vessel, but it was preferred among the Knights of the Jedi Order, who required speed, both sublight and supralight, without sacrificing decent armament and protection. Master Aryn Paulsen and his apprentice, Quinn Seth, were no exceptions. The two seemed to be an unlikely pair of humans. Aryn was middle-aged with his skin worn from his many years as a servant of the Jedi Order and, by extension, the galaxy. His features were sharply defined, right down to the short beard and hair which he kept carefully trimmed. Quinn, in contrast, had a very smooth appearance, his hair only a few centimeters longer than his master’s, styled to complement the smooth contours of his face.
As soon as they’d exited hyperspace, the cockpit seemed to get heavier. There was something weighing them down. Quinn’s anticipating blue eyes had dropped to a sort of weary state. His master, however, seemed unaffected by what was sure to be the Dark Side energies emanating from the spacetime phenomenon.
“Well, there it is,” Quinn observed the giant blossom in the viewport.
“What do you feel?” Aryn asked his apprentice.
“I’m getting all sorts of contradiction from it, Master. It’s frightening, yet alluring at the same time. It’s trying to make me drop my guard, I think,” Quinn responded.
“Hm … it’s the work of the Dark Side, that much is certain,” Aryn said. The wormhole had clearly not been created naturally, and it teemed with a dark aura, which was why the Council had sent him and his apprentice to investigate.
Master Paulsen was recognized among the Jedi as an authority on the history of the Sith. His study of the ancient order kept him treading the thin line of temptation, but his remarkable willpower had allowed him to resist the lure of the dark power continually. If there was anyone who could glean information regarding the Sith from this phenomenon, it was he.
“Strange, that something so beautiful could have been born out of such malice and dark power,” Quinn said.
“Be aware of your feelings, Quinn. Do not walk the line between respect and admiration lightly. While the Sith and the Dark Side are powerful, we must remember that they are evil and have chosen to wield their power selfishly,” Aryn cautioned. Resisting the temptation of the Dark Side was something that he’d impressed upon his padawan from the very beginning and emphasized above everything else save patience.
“Yes, of course, Master,” Quinn said, still studying the vortex curiously, his blue eyes reflecting the intense, pale purple light radiating away from it. “What if it’s an illusion, not really a wormhole? The Sith were capable of such things,” Quinn asked, quite legitimately. Now that they were actually in the presence of the wormhole, he was having a hard time controlling his fear. Entering a creation born completely from dark power was not something to be taken lightly.
“Regardless of how it was created, it is a gateway, that much has been confirmed. The Force is still a natural phenomenon, and its creations are still susceptible to the same laws that govern everything else. The wormhole is definitely emitting tachyon and hyperspace particles,” Aryn mused. “This could account for Darth Bane’s disappearance over four-thousand years ago. He’d have likely sealed it, though. The question is why it has reopened.”
Darth Bane was the Sith Lord who had begun the tradition of having only one master and one apprentice at a given time in the Sith Order. No record ever surfaced of the Sith Lord’s death. He had simply disappeared.
“Take us in,” he instructed. Quinn pushed the throttle forward, accelerating them into the gaping maw. Once they breached the wormhole’s event horizon, the stars and scenery in front of them stretched into long blurs of their former selves, and in a bright white flash, they were in hyperspace, hurting toward their destination at speeds far greater than even the fastest of hyperdrives could reach.
c. 2000 CE, Earth.
Buffy still sat on the stairs. She had been there the whole night. She couldn’t believe that she’d let Riley get away. Xander had been right. She had let her pride destroy her relationship with Riley, first by not letting him into her life to help her through bad times, and just now by refusing to consider his ultimatum that either she start sharing herself completely with him or he’d leave. The possibility that he had been right had never crossed her mind. She never considered how the way she’d been treating him may have made him feel. This isn’t the time for this. I’ve got to be strong. If I’m not, no one will be. She sought to pull herself out of her depression, realizing that those were the thoughts that had gotten her there in the first place. But, wasn’t it true? Who would be strong if she wasn’t?
The morning glow on her blonde hair dimmed, and the twinkling of her tears faded. Someone was at the front door, obstructing the morning sunshine coming in through the window. A few seconds later, a quiet knock sounded. She still sat there, hoping it was Riley, but refusing to answer, knowing that her vain hopes would be crushed upon opening the door. About half-a-minute later, a knock sounded again.
She mustered the emotional strength to get up. She walked cautiously toward the door. Wiping the tears from her eyes and making an effort at self-composure, she opened the door.
When the door swung open, it was indeed, not Riley. Even so, she sprung at the visitor and clung to him as if he were her sole source of life at the moment.
“Oh, Xander, I’m so glad you came,” she said. He put his arms around her and dutifully gave her his emotional support as a friend needed. Xander knew for certain, now, that Riley had left.
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, wetting his shoulder slightly with newly-arrived tears.
“I’m sorry that it happened. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, especially not now,” Xander consoled her. They stood there for the next few minutes, with Buffy wrapped around Xander. Finally, Buffy pulled her head from his shoulder. Her face reddened and wet.
“Your makeup’s running,” Xander said, in an effort to lift her spirits. She managed a short gasp of laughter and her face wrinkled with a badly-needed smile. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll make you breakfast.”
He led her into her kitchen and pulled out her chair in a gentlemanly fashion. He then proceeded to open the refrigerator and begin his hunt.
“Eggs OK with you?” he asked, still hunched over digging, knowing that she wouldn’t refuse his offer.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said, showing slight improvement in her mood. “You can cook?” she asked.
“Not at all. I can, however, crack open bird embryos and fry them,” he said. “Ah-hah!” he exclaimed, signifying that his search was over. He spun around, displaying two white eggs in his left hand, holding them aloft as prizes.
After indulging in Xander’s culinary experiment, the two of them simply sat back quietly for a couple of minutes, staring blankly. Xander waited until he felt Buffy could cope with talking about the events of the previous night.
“So, he just wasn’t there?” he asked, cautiously. She paused a moment, recollecting her thoughts.
“No, he was there,” she began. Xander’s dismay began to show through at the thought of Riley simply rejecting her after she had been willing to do as he asked. “But, the helicopter was already in the air. It was so loud that he just … couldn’t hear me, or didn’t want to,” she said, in a quivering tone. “I wonder how long he waited, or if he even really wanted me back.” Xander wasn’t quite sure how to respond. If he told her that he was sure Riley had waited a long time, it would look, to her, even more like a failure on her part. If he told her that he hadn’t waited long, she would feel rejected. The same went for if he wanted her back. Telling her that he did would give the impression of personal failure, while telling her that he didn’t would push the burden of rejection on her.
“Hey, don’t think like that,” he said. He decided on a response. “Of course he wanted you back.”
“I should have realized it sooner.” she said, slipping back into a depressive state.
“Hey, it’s alright. No one’s blaming you. You tried,” Xander said quietly, trying to relieve the immense anguish overcoming her.
“He is. He’s blaming me.”
“No, I don’t think so. Not deep down. I think he knows that you still want him. And he wants you.”
“Then, why did he leave?” she asked, innocently.
“I … don’t know. I don’t even think that he knows. Sometimes things just happen,” Xander said, trying to think of something that wouldn’t bring her down even further.
“Why do they always happen to me? First Angel, now Riley…,” she said, looking down at the floor, her voice trailing off.
“You can handle it, Buff; you’re strong. You’re my hero, remember? You thought you couldn’t handle college, and now, you don’t have a problem. All you needed was a little support from your friends,” Xander said, triggering an idea in his head. He got up and, reaching across the table, put his hand on her face, caressing it gently. “I’ll be right back. I have to make a call.”
In a remote region of the planet Earth, Darth Raythe was plotting and scheming. Safely hidden in his sanctuary, content to direct large portions of demonic and evil activity on the blue planet, he only became directly involved when there was a major threat to his power. To date, there had been several potential apocalypses, but none of them were beyond the abilities of others to combat. In spite of his hatred for the Slayer and the Watcher’s Council, he used them as tools rather than simply destroy them. They stopped evil powerful enough to threaten him, thus he did not have to risk himself but remained in control anyway.
Now, however, he could not risk the failure of his unwitting pawns. There was a great evil that had come to this world, and his meditations had revealed little, except that he must become involved in this fight, personally. As of late, the future was clouded with an uncertainty he’d never encountered before. A great power was surfacing, and it was preparing to act. This new force could threaten everything the line of Sith Lords on the planet had worked to create. The demons, the conflict and, most of all, the fear in the humans themselves. Fear kept them all in line, fear of their fictitious gods and other such superstitions. All that could be destroyed. He would not let it happen. He would not lose his power.
It was not surprising that this phantom menace was located on the Hellmouth. He and his apprentice would have to go and deal with the threat personally. It was simply beyond the ability of the Slayer and her cohorts to deal with. This called for discretion, though. No one could know of his existence. He was confident in his ability to deal with his enemies, but one must never underestimate the inventiveness and cunning of a foe. Given time, they could discover the secrets of the Sith and oust his line from power. Power was the only end the Sith cared about, and the Force was their means to that end.
Then, as if to compound this threat, he felt a sudden spike in the otherwise calm waters of the Light Side of the Force. The Slayer had not died, so a new one had not risen. Perhaps a natural Wicca? No, even they were not so strong or focused as this. Had the Jedi finally found this world, the last Sith stronghold? If so, he would have to have them disposed of immediately. If anyone could threaten him directly, it would be Jedi. He smiled a crooked, evil smile at the possibility, though. Finally, he would see from what caliber the Jedi were forged.
The spinning blue vortex resolved itself into a seemingly infinite number of starlines, which compressed into tiny points of white light. They were on the other side of the wormhole, wherever that was. In front of them was a system of nine planets dancing their orbital dance around a yellow star. Quinn was already at work scanning the system for life.
“Only one of the planets has life on it. Looks pretty divided. All the industry is concentrated in a few key areas. They’ve got artificial satellites and what looks like a primitive space–Ooh, there’s an asteroid field between the fourth and fifth planets,” Quinn said with a mischievous grin. Aryn frowned and looked at him. His apprentice had a strange lure to asteroid fields and a desire to fly through them at maximum acceleration. In the 27,000 years that galactic civilization had been in existence, Corellians hadn’t changed a bit.
“There’ll be no ‘practice maneuvers’ at this time, Quinn,” he said, sounding authoritative and somewhat scolding. Quinn simply shrugged and mostly hid the disappointment from his face. Mostly.
Quinn began reporting his sensor readings again. “Hey, they’ve even got a space telescope! They’re just starting to explore space, so they may be able to detect us,” Quinn reported.
“Engage the cloak,” Aryn ordered. Quinn pressed a button on the control panel, and the view outside disappeared for a split second before reappearing when the tachyon sensors kicked in. “Alright, take us in. Where do you think we should land?” Quinn brought up a holographic image of the planet in the center of the cockpit, which promptly began spinning to mimic the motion of its original template. After studying it and opening himself to the Force for guidance, he touched a small area on the Western coast of the Northwestern continent.
“There,” he said. Upon his touch, the holographic planetary surface unwrapped itself into a rectangular sheet and then turned face-up so that both the occupants could read it.
“Any particular reason?” Aryn asked.
“I’m not really sure. It’s just where I feel we should go,” Quinn responded, not quite sure himself. Aryn thought for a moment.
“Agreed. It should be the middle of the night in that region, by now, so there’s no better time to land. Set a course, and take us in.” Quinn did so, wondering what it was the Force wanted him to see down there. The sleek little ship shot toward the blue planet like a dart to the bull’s-eye.
As the planet grew larger in their view, both of them were beginning to realize why Quinn had picked the spot he had. The dark and light forces in that area were violent and constantly clashing, neither gaining a decisive advantage. It was chaotic, and Quinn was wondering where the powerful presence of light was coming from, if not from another Jedi.
Chapter 2
“Willow!” Buffy exclaimed as her friend came walking through the doorway that Xander had opened for her. Willow scuttled to meet Buffy and took her in a warm, friendly hug.
“Oh, Buffy, I’m so sorry. Everything’ll be alright, don’t worry,” Willow consoled her almost immediately. With her innocent, semiconfused voice, Willow always sounded completely sincere.
“It’s alright, Wil,” Buffy said back. At the moment, Willow seemed more upset about the affair than Buffy did, but then again, real friends always did.
“No!” Willow insisted. “No, it’s not! He’s a creep, and … and he doesn’t deserve you, anyway, so you really shouldn’t worry about him or his government, demon-chasing … guys,” Willow said, sporadically. It was almost as if she wanted to go off on a tangent but couldn’t quite manage it.
“C’mon, Wil, we can bash him some other time. Right now, that’s the last thing I want on my mind,” Buffy responded, trying to calm her already jittery best friend down.
“Oh, Okay. We can go out to dinner!” she suggested happily. Then, realizing it was morning, a grimace settled on her face. “In the morning! We can go out to dinner in the morning! It’ll be something new and, and … different, and it’s sure to take your mind off of all your troubles!” she finished, barely.
“Well,” Xander interjected, “In light of my unsuccessful foray into the nuclear science realm, I think we should go get some real breakfast.”
“Huh?” Willow asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“Xander tried to cook,” Buffy informed her. Willow looked at him quizzically.
“But, you can’t cook. I’ve seen you try. It always ends up like the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters,” she observed.
“Yeah, well this time, I decided to experiment with Big Bird’s unhatched offspring. And, unlike the electric chair, it does matter how long you keep them in there,” Xander explained, gesturing to the now-cold culinary disaster lying in the sink.
“I don’t know if I even want to hear about last time,” Buffy mused. Xander and Willow both smiled at her lighter mood. They’d done their duty as friends and cheered her up.
“Well, where should we eat? Something fancy…,” Xander began, putting his hand to his chin and rubbing it thoughtfully as if he were contemplating the crucial clue in a murder case. Then, simultaneously having the same thought, they all echoed, “McDonalds!”
The last of the sunlight blinked out as the tiny craft crossed entirely into the blue planet’s shadow on a vector that took it perpendicular to the imaginary line running through the sun and the planet.
“What kind of detection systems do they have?” Aryn asked.
“It looks like just EM-based signaling, from what I’m getting in the atmosphere,” Quinn reported.
“Good. Deactivate the cloak. Our ECM should be able to avoid their sensors,” Aryn ordered. They’d have had to deactivate the cloaking shield anyway, but it was better to know that their regular stealth could evade the planet’s sensors. Because it warped spacetime around the ship so that light didn’t reflect off the hull, the ship generated astronomical amounts of outward gravitational force that were contained within a very small space around it. After about one or two millimeters above the hull contours, there were no abnormal gravitational effects. Nevertheless, any air molecules or clouds that they ran into during atmospheric flight would be hurtled away from the ship, causing a monstrous shockwave that would probably, if they flew over the ocean as they intended to, create a massive tidal wave. Consequently, the equal reaction forces, even when applied to a tiny air molecule, would crush the ship when in an atmosphere.
He saw the coastline up ahead. It must have been early night, since a good deal of the lights on the towers of the coastal city were lit. At that point, Quinn let the autopilot take over and guide them exactly where he had specified. They arrived within minutes, and were now considering their options for a landing spot.
The apprentice digested the news without any display of emotion on his scarred, hard-edged face, but the master could sense his elation and bloodlust. Through his training and service to his master, Darth Cythe had slain many challenging opponents, from Wicca and warlocks to seemingly insurmountable demons. To date, however, he had never faced a Slayer, and had resigned himself to the notion that he’d never face a Jedi Knight, his order’s ancient enemies.
All that, however, was about to change. The Jedi had indeed, finally, found their way to Earth. He, like his master, had felt the veritable tidal waves of disturbance in the Force, but only his master had the wisdom to interpret them as unquestionably being the result of Jedi Knights entering their vicinity. His training in the Sith arts was primarily based on the idea of defeating Jedi. Through the generations of Sith rule on this planet, the training had been modified to prepare Sith warriors for the threats it offered, but the training regimen still held the same, basic principle at heart. How he had yearned to face a Jedi, to finally put his training to the ultimate test. Entire generations had passed before him, and he would be the one to finally confront the Jedi and drive them from this world.
Darth Raythe was pleased with his apprentice’s enthusiasm, for he himself had not only desired to see Lord Cythe’s skills put to the ultimate test, but his own, as well. He would now be given the chance to outwit and outplay Jedi in a complex game of strategy. With the unknown evil that had crept from the shadows into this world, there was yet another variable in that game, another challenge to overcome, another thing to play the Jedi against. He would have a very sweet, lasting victory.
They sat, the six of them, on the family room couch or on the floor in Buffy’s house. Willow and Xander had decided not to take along their respective girlfriends on their day out with Buffy. Flaunting successful relationships in her face may not be such a good idea. Eventually, though, Anya and Tara had shown up at Buffy’s house to help try and ease her pain a little. Although, relationship signals had been put on hold for the evening. Giles of course, came as well..
They had spent the better part of the afternoon in Giles’ shop, the Magic Box, after breakfast. It had been a fairly uneventful day in terms of customers, which was okay. They had let Buffy go in her training area for a while and take out a few frustrations while getting her workout. After that, they went out to lunch and then retreated back to Buffy’s home to pass the rest of the day until Buffy would begin the night’s patrol. They had ordered a pizza and rented a movie. Much to Giles’ dismay, they rented Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
“You know, you’re Bri’ish,” he said, purposefully omitting the “t” sound in a mock British accent. “The movie’s British. Why don’t you like it?”
“It’s ridiculous. Who’s ever heard of an enchanter named Tim for heaven’s sakes? And, the ending doesn’t make any sense,” Giles said flippantly.
“Okay, let’s hear the real reason,” Xander said accusingly.
“All right,” Giles said reluctantly. “If you must know, this film was my bane, as an Englishman, during my tenure at Sunnydale High School.”
“What? Did someone bash you over the head with a poster or something?” Xander asked curiously, trying to suppress the outburst laughter that was imminent. He did, after all, want to hear the full explanation before he commenced rolling on the floor.
“Every bloody teenager seems to have seen that film. I’d be in the halls and I’d constantly hear the same lines from it being shouted over and over. And, they’d always have these ridiculous mock-British accents. It was so insulting.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Xander said, chuckling. The movie had just gotten to a scene involving a killer rabbit being defeated through the employment of a Holy Hand Grenade. Giles smirked at the notion of a Holy Hand Grenade.
“I saw that smirk,” Willow said, as if she had just discovered fire. “You like the movie! You’re just too English to admit it!”
“Don’t be absurd, I–” Giles began, but was cut off by Buffy.
“Well, I have to go out and patrol,” she said, completely changing the subject.
“Right now? King Arthur just defeated the killer rabbit!” Willow protested.
“I know, and I’m sure everything turns out for the best at the end. And, you know, evil doesn’t take holidays for my emotional problems,” she said, getting up and walking over to get her jacket.
“Actually, they all get arrested at the end for killing that historian,” Tara informed Buffy. Buffy frowned in mock disappointment and let out an exaggerated sigh.
“You ruined the ending!” Her brow crinkled in thought. “You’re right,” she said, looking at Giles. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Putting on her jacket, she grabbed a stake and promptly exited.
Buffy proceeded to take her standard route, letting any interludes in the action become filled with her own meandering thoughts. She reflected back and wondered how long it had taken her to get over Angel. Had it been a week? Two weeks? She knew that, deep down, she’d never truly be over Angel. Their connection had seemed like one orchestrated by fate. Was Riley the same way? Would she have two lost presences in her life?
There was very little activity on the streets and in the alleys tonight, which meant one thing: They were all in the cemetery. Preparing for a fight and temporarily shoving the Riley-related thoughts out of her head, she began making her way toward the cemetery.
Quinn had guided the ship to a convenient landing spot. With their cloaking shield unusable in atmosphere, the ship was still perceptible to simple eyesight, no matter how well its ECM systems could counter the radio waves that appeared to be the basis for all of the planet’s sensors. Even in a remote landing spot like the one they had picked, they couldn’t risk having their ship spotted.
The solution was a thin membrane, which utilized rapidly updating holographic fields, lining the hull that took panoramic pictures of the ship’s surroundings and displayed them across the hull, updating them every one-sixtieth of a second to create the illusion of smooth motion to a casual observer. The landing gear was tall enough to prevent anyone from walking into the hull, so the only way to detect the ship was to walk into the landing struts or jump up while standing under the hull. In the isolated spot they’d picked for a landing, neither of these cases seemed likely.
The spot in question was a natural clearing in a forest canopy that Quinn maneuvered the ship into with only minor difficulties. When they flew by, they’d spotted a small town that was definitely the focal point of what they’d both been sensing earlier. So, they flew out a respectable distance, landed and uploaded a map of the surrounding area attained from their scans to their datapads.
“I suppose we should take along our protocol implants,” Quinn said.
“Indeed,” Aryn replied. He opened a small compartment in the side dash of the cockpit and retrieved two very small disks. Handing one to Quinn, he popped the other in his right ear. Quinn did likewise. The small device attached itself to his inner ear securely.
When the device activated, he heard, “Good day, Sir. I am Eltee Eye Seven, Language Translation Implant. Would you like to begin neural interfacing now? Please say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ or tap your temple once or twice for each response, respectively.” The LTI-7 was designed so that it could function covertly and receive input from casual gestures, but no such subterfuge was required here. He simply replied.
“No, await my command to begin language processing and translation,” he told the small droid, who replied with a simple
“Very good, Sir.” Aryn had also finished relaying his instructions to his implant. They stopped by the ship’s stores and collected some rations as well as other basic survival gear that had been packed into a set of utility belts for each of them.
They disembarked the ship, summarily activating the holoshield that would hide it from sight. As soon as the ramp closed, both the Jedi became nearly invisible, their black cloaks blending with the night.
“How long have we got to walk?” Aryn asked.
“About ten kilometers or so, then we’ll reach what looked like the town limits,” Quinn said, examining his datapad and plotting the quickest course. The green glow illuminated the portion of his face that his hood’s shadow did not conceal. He pointed toward where his datapad had indicated. “That way.” With that, both the Jedi set out into the woods with the wind at their backs, giving them both the distinct impression that some higher power was hurrying them to their destination.
“Tell me, Lord Cythe. If you were a Jedi who had just discovered this world, where would you be most likely to go?” Darth Raythe didn’t so much ask as demand an answer. He knew his apprentice would not disappoint, and his expectations were met.
“The Hellmouth, Master,” Cythe responded neutrally. The Hellmouth, where the Slayer was currently stationed, was a region of the planet especially conductive to supernatural energies and forces. As such, many cataclysmic and apocalyptic events had taken place there, and it emanated such tidal waves in the Force that it would be extremely easy to overlook Raythe’ own aura of dark power on a casual glance of the world.
“Yes, I have foreseen as much. Go to the Hellmouth, Lord Cythe. Test these Jedi; see from what fire they are forged. Even if you could easily kill them, you must not. We will not squander an opportunity to learn about our ancient foes. Do you understand?” Raythe asked.
“I obey and understand, my Master.” Lord Cythe knew his priorities. He was to obey his master above all else. Raythe’s cloaked figure motioned for him to leave.
“Go, and take the Sith Infiltrator. The Jedi will be landing shortly, and it is the only way you can get there quickly enough,” he ordered. The Sith Infiltrator, which had brought the first Sith Lord to this world, Darth Bane, was truly a remarkable collaborative display of the Dark Side and the world of technology. The ship had survived in perfect working condition for thousands of years, fueled by an intimate bond that it had with each of the Dark Jedi who had piloted it. Cythe executed an unhastened bow and left his master’s presence.
Buffy had arrived in the cemetery without incident, and she immediately began scouting around for any freshly burst-through graves. She found none, but she caught a hand emerging from the ground. The hand kept struggling to free the rest of the body it was attached to, flailing all about. It was obvious that this one would take a bit of time, so Buffy just perched on the grave’s tombstone. A light rain began to fall, making the ground a little softer and easier to punch through.
“Poor vamp. You won’t even get to eat something before you’re dead. What a miserable way to start off eternal life,” she mused with a touch of sincerity in her mocking tone. Suddenly, the vampire managed to spout through the rest of the dirt wall that had previously encased him. His face was the contorted, ugly mutilation of a human face that vampires could assume at will, with an overpronounced brow line and a stretched mouth to more easily accommodate for victims’ necks. This one used to be an attractive male, but now he was just evil that she was sworn to destroy. And destroy she would.
The new vampire immediately recognized her as the Slayer, which all of them could and did. He spat threats at her, but she knew he couldn’t make good on them. They circled each other for a few seconds before Buffy decided that she just wanted to get this over with and get some sleep. She launched herself in the air, easily clearing the vampire’s head, so quickly that he couldn’t react in time to the first strike. She forward rolled in midair and kicked her legs out, catching her opponent in the back of the head and sending him face first into the ground.
She landed perfectly with cat-like grace and turned around to finish him off. The vampire would not be so easily dusted, however. He turned to face her and swung a furious right hook, fueled by supernatural strength. That strength, however, proved to be his downfall. The augmented force in his blow threw his center of gravity off its base of support, which landed him momentarily off balance. He also telegraphed the move rather obviously, so Buffy had no trouble countering it and using his clumsiness to her advantage.
With the amount of rotational momentum he’d inflicted upon himself, he had virtually turned his back to her. She crouched in preparation for her next few blows and swept his off-balance legs out from under him, which landed him on his face, again. This time, in proper positioning for the blow, she executed a quick side roll and came out straddling the vampire’s back. She drove the stake down toward his heart with all her strength and heard a sickening noise as it penetrated, followed by the customary screaming noise that accompanied the process through which vampires turned to dust.
She rose. Well, that was easy enough, she thought. Guess I’d better check around a little more. She went around the perimeter of the cemetery and finding nothing, was prepared to call it a night. The once light rain was quickly turning into a downpour, and she wasn’t eager to risk something as mundane as the common cold keeping her in the house for the next few days while she’d staved off her share of apocalypses.
Then she heard the sounds of a fight off on the other side of the graveyard that she’d cleared only fifteen minutes prior. She turned to raced toward it, only to be confronted by another vampire who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
After hours of walking, they’d finally seen a clearing in the forest. The clearing was a giant yard with rectangular stones jutting out of the ground at perpendicular angles. It was quite an eerie environment, and the rain which had begun to fall did not help make it any more welcoming. Quinn and Aryn both pulled the hoods of their cloaks up, offering minimal protection against the small pellets of water strafing their faces, but it was better than nothing.
The place was cold, not so much in the weather sense as its sense in the Force. There was darkness and death in this place, and it was as permeating as the fog. Quinn let out a slight shiver. His master acknowledged the feeling.
“I feel it, as well. It’s like passing through the Alderaanian Graveyard. Even after thousands of years, those last voices still echo in the Force,” Aryn said. It occurred to him that this could be a sort of graveyard, as well. He bent down to examine one of the stones, which bore engraved text that looked strangely familiar, but Aryn was quite sure that he’d never seen such a dialect before.
Both the Jedi’s augmented senses then picked up the familiar sounds of a brawl in the distance. As Quinn began rushing toward the commotion, a hand jutted out from the patch of grass Aryn had been standing on. Surprised, Aryn called Quinn back to help out the unfortunate fellow who’d obviously been buried alive by mistake. They had to get indoors and quickly. The sky was flashing with lightning, which was followed up very quickly by thunder, meaning that the worst parts of the storm were not far from their location.
The man, whoever he was, had incredible strength, and he could have easily made it out of the ground by himself. With both the Jedi’s aid, though, he was above ground in a very timely fashion. The man’s body was that of a human, but his face was contorted and mutilated. Perhaps this was the evolutionary result of this species? Neither Jedi had time to ponder such thoughts, as the man, as soon as he came out of the ground, attacked them both, hissing and spitting.
Then Aryn felt it. There was no light in this creature. It was a work purely of the Dark Side with no hope of redemption. He drew his lightsaber and summoned the green blade to life with a flick of his thumb. At the same time, he shouted to Quinn. “Go, help whoever is on the other side; I’ll handle this.” Quinn obediently retreated, running off in the direction of the broil they’d heard earlier.
Aryn’s lightsaber had startled the creature to no end. Even so, it was possessed by a carnal hunger for something that, apparently, only the Jedi could provide him with at the moment. It charged him, which was the worst possible thing it could have done. Aryn merely pivoted and shoved the glowing green blade through its midsection, the frictionless edge meeting zero resistance.
He’d expected this to be the end of the engagement, but he had been severely mistaken. He withdrew his blade, but the thing remained standing, and with hands poised to put him in a bear hug and fangs borne, it charged him again, more slowly and in considerable pain. He gracefully pivoted, preparing to lop the thing’s head off, but it was fast even in its wounded state. It leaned back at an impossible angle with the blade missing its head and slashing mere centimeters above its chest. It came back up and loosed a vicious side kick to Aryn’s face, which he artfully dodged by rolling under the kick and coming back up in a stabbing position behind his opponent.
He again stabbed the blade into the creature, this time into its neck. He retrieved his blade from the now cauterized hole in the creature’s stem, leaving what looked like two supports holding the head in place. However, it was not dead. It turned to him, in obvious pain, unable to produce sound because of the lightsaber’s quick vaporization of its vocal cords. Aryn was yet again flabbergasted by the thing’s resilience. It started stumbling toward him with more desperation than fury in its eyes. By the Force, this thing shouldn’t even be able to move!
Aryn then decided to simply decapitate the thing. If that didn’t work, he was at a loss for ideas. He swung his lightsaber on an arc that intersected the thing’s neckline. As soon as he’d cut through it completely, the head falling off and the body falling down burst into dust. Aryn stared at the spot where it had been, completely at a loss for an explanation. Through the pitter-patter of the rain, he heard what sounded like a repulsorlift vehicle. The sound was growing louder and getting closer, but he had seen no indication of that kind of technology on this planet. Then realization hit him, and he immediately began scanning the obscured sky for incoming ships.
Quinn could make out two figures through the downpour with the aid of his Force-enhanced senses. One was a female, and the other was like that creature he and his master had encountered just moments ago. They were brawling, as he expected, and the woman was winning handily. She was currently smashing her opponent’s head into her knee repeatedly. After she was through battering his face, she threw him outward with the arm that was still grasping the hair on his head. He went flying almost a meter and landed on his back. Quinn was astounded. The woman looked human, but no human could possibly manage that much leverage and strength. She had an incredible presence in the Force; she was literally teeming with its energy. She must have been what he felt when they first arrived in this system.
He had intended to help whichever party he thought was on the good side, if he could determine that, but it was obvious that the woman was both good and in no need of assistance, so he simply watched her. She leapt into the air a full two meters and came crashing down on the dazed creature, who was still flat on his back. She punched him in the face once more for good measure and then withdrew something from her coat. It was sharp, whatever it was. She sent it slamming down into his chest, and the creature vanished into a cloud of dust. It was unlike anything Quinn had ever seen before.
The woman rose to her feet and took notice of him. With her face turned toward him, he could make out her features, her extremely pleasing features. She was very beautiful, even with her blonde hair wet and unkempt and her smooth face wet. Water was seeping between her blue eyes and running down her slightly pointed nose. He caught himself staring as she began walking toward him. Once she got within hearing distance, she began to speak. He didn’t understand, of course, but he tapped his temple twice and activated the small droid nestled in his ear, and it began recording and working on translation algorithms. Hopefully, the droid would be able to translate what she said in a short time. In the meantime, he subtly urged her thoughts away from threats, using the Force to convey the spirit of his intentions as well as the fact that he could not understand her yet.
She’d been screaming through the rain at him for almost half a minute, and he hadn’t done a thing but tap his head. Who was he? Then, she felt a wash of calm come over her, along with the sense that this cloaked figure she had just encountered was not a threat. He just couldn’t understand her. She settled on what she thought her instincts were telling her and began to gesture outside of the cemetery, motioning that he should follow her. He looked like he was about to say something when he turned his attention to something else. Above the sound of the rain and thunder was what sounded like an engine, growing louder. His eyes widened and his head snapped to meet her eyes. She suddenly felt that she was in danger.
Her feelings her confirmed when the man leapt toward her with blinding speed, throwing her away from what was now a smoking crater in the ground. It all happened so quickly that she couldn’t even recall it. Then she saw the source of the destruction. Something was flying above them, red lances spilling from its front. She couldn’t make it out in detail, and she didn’t have the time to. The ground was exploding all around her; trees had caught on fire. The man got up off of her and motioned for her to stay down.
“The Hell I’ll stay put! What was that?!” She demanded. He didn’t answer. He only withdrew two short cylinders from his belt and eyed the craft now hovering above them. A small hatch opened, and someone dropped out, landing gracefully after a full ten meter fall. She suddenly felt very cold inside as the new arrival cast his gaze in her direction and then directly toward her new companion. Both cast off the cloaks they were wearing, obviously preparing for a fight.
With the flickering fire from the burning trees, she could now make out the man’s face. It was smoothly contoured with a nose that stuck up just short of perpendicular. His short hair had fallen evenly around his head by virtue of the rain. The blue eyes with which he had gazed upon her so intently with were now directed at the new arrival. His face was far less amenable to the eye. It was hard and seemed to remain hidden in the shadows despite the firelight. He took a long tube from his belt, held it vertically and flicked his forefinger.
Out from each end came a glowing red blade. He assumed a fighting stance which favored aggressive attacks with the majority of weight on his front foot. From each of the tubes in her companion’s hand came glowing blue blades, one shorter than the other. They came alive with a snap-hiss and waited patiently for a battle with their steady thrum. The rain droplets evaporated all around the two glowing blades, creating a halo of steam around them as he assumed a low back stance with the shorter blade pointing directly outward and the longer pointing forward above his head, like a scorpion stinger.
Just as the dark man was preparing to attack, yet another man with a glowing blade, his green, launched into the scene, attacking the one she had mentally dubbed as Red Blades. Green Blade was on the attack, and Blue Blades, apparently his ally, sprinted off to join the fray. And, thus, the three combatants began to dance.
There were clouds of steam wherever they took their battle, and sometimes their blades hit forcefully and energetically enough to create a temporary, visible shockwave through the increasingly thick medium that the rain and thick, humid air provided. Red Blades must have known that, even with his unbelievably quick reflexes and creative responses, he could not last long against a two-to-one disadvantage, as well as a blade of discrepancy.
Green Blade, despite being the only combatant with one weapon, seemed to move most expertly and strategically of them. He coordinated with Blue Blades to throw Red off balance, but it would take more than that to defeat him. Green and Blue were pushing their advantage to the limit, though, and Red was beginning to have trouble. His hits seemed to be a little off, hitting the tombstones around their ever-changing fighting ring, spraying rocks and rubble all over the ground. The only chance he had was to knock out Green or Blue.
He knew that much, and he’d known it from the moment the battle had begun, probably. Red’s strategy finally became clear. Parrying the last of Green and Blue’s blows, he jumped almost three meters off the ground and in midair, stretched out his hand. Buffy heard an explosive sound like a thunderbolt, only more subdued, and it didn’t come from the storm. At the same time, she saw a wave come crashing down through the rain toward the ground, right in the middle of Green and Blue.
Then she realized that he wasn’t simply getting sloppy when hitting the tombstones and sending debris flying. He had been preparing a deadly trap. The powerful wave slammed down on the debris and two men with an effect similar to blowing on eraser shavings, and the rocks went flying along with Green and Blue. With the rocks being lighter and having the roughly the same momentum imparted to them, they flew faster than Green and Blue and crashed into their bodies. Blue got hit and let out a blood curdling scream of pain. A sharp rock had flown into his face at an upward angle, tearing off a chunk of skin, replacing it with a red hunk of meat. Blood was seeping down his face and covering it quickly with the aid of the aquatic downpour.
Green, either by luck or skill, evaded any facial hits, his injury confined to a few bruises. He pressed on with new vigor, making up for his lost partner. He quickly and easily deflected Red’s high slashes and follow-up sweeps, but Buffy couldn’t watch the duel progress. She had to aid Blue, who had saved her life just moments earlier. She ran over to him. He was still conscious, pressing his hand against the wound. She took her jacket off, removed his red-soaked hand and pressed down on his face. He didn’t scream, instead repressing it with an audible groan. Buffy profusely apologized but continued pressing down. She hoped that Green would dispatch Red quickly, or her efforts here could end up being in vain.
Aryn pressed his attack again. The Sith Lord was fast, as the Jedi Holocrons had told, fast and precise. This one was also particularly clever. Most Sith Lords feel into one of two categories: the brains or the brawn. The apprentices usually wielded lightsabers, but fought exclusively with their weapons. This one set traps. He was not, however, unbeatable.
Aryn realized he’d need another blade to win this battle in short order enough to tend to his apprentice. He came in with a horizontal slash and forced the Sith’s blade vertical to deflect, and he used the temporary opening to pivot and put a fierce back kick into the Sith’s midsection, forcing him back. With the precious few seconds he had bought, he stretched out his hand and summoned Quinn’s long blade to it. The handle flew into his grasp, and he activated it just in time to deflect another onslaught from his Dark Jedi opponent.
With two blades, now, he could direct fully where he wanted the Sith’s double-bladed lightsaber to go. He slashed criss-cross to keep the Sith’s blade horizontal, and he finally came down with both blades and the same time. The blades were locked perpendicular for a few seconds until it became clear that the Sith would win their brute force contest. Of course, Aryn knew that. He wanted the Sith to push back as hard as he could.
Then the Jedi Master struck. He twirled both his blades backward, sending the Sith flying at him, a victim of his own momentum. He then brought his leg straight out and up like a pendulum, which intersected the hilt of the Sith’s long lightsaber, sending it flying upward. Before the lightsaber’s wielder could grab onto it again, Aryn quickly followed up his axe kick with a smooth pivot on his planted leg, sending a vicious side kick into the Sith’s chest. He went stumbling back, and he was now at the Jedi Master’s mercy. Aryn didn’t intend to show him any, and he attacked relentlessly. The Sith managed to dodge with an impressive series of sideways flips and twirls that moved him quickly toward his ship while providing the smallest, most dynamic target he could.
Once he was directly under the open hatchway on his ship’s belly, he leapt straight up and into it, closing it immediately after. The dagger-like Sith Infiltrator, the notorious ship class used by the ancient cult, shot off, reaching supersonic speeds in seconds and creating a sonic boom accompanied by a vapor wave through the rain. Aryn deactivated both lightsabers and watched the ship disappear from sight.
He turned and ran to where Quinn’s body lay. There was a woman with him trying to stop the torrent of blood escaping, but with a wound that serious, he’d need serious medical attention. Aryn gently removed the woman’s pressed hand from Quinn’s face, revealing the full extent of the wound. The pool of blood surrounding the thin, deep cut made it look more like a gash extending from between his nose and left eye and crossing to the right side of his forehead, ending just before the hairline. Aryn looked mercifully at Quinn.
“Quinn, this wound must be closed immediately,” he said. Quinn shunted aside the pain for a moment and nodded his head. He was still in shock, and he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t let himself go into a healing trance until he was safely off the field. Aryn tore a length of cloth from his tunic and wrapped it around his hand, creating a roughly cylindrical band of cloth. Quinn opened his mouth, and Aryn stuck it inside. Quinn bit down in preparation for the drastic, painful procedure which was necessary to save his life. He looked at the woman who realized what he intended to do. He nodded his head toward Quinn, and she understood. She kneeled behind Quinn and propped him up against her with both of her arms under his armpits, securing his upper body from struggle. Aryn sat across Quinn’s outstretched legs. It wasn’t an ideal form of restraint, but it was the best they could manage.
Aryn took Quinn’s short blade and activated it, adjusting the blade length to just short of half a meter. He stood up and without ceremony, touched the hot, blue blade to the wound, cauterizing it with intense heat and sending Quinn’s already-shocked body into convulsions of searing pain. The cloud of steam surrounding the blade only made the surrounding skin burn more easily, and it made him bite down even harder on the cloth Aryn provided, and only a pained moan escaped his throat. It took all his strength in the Force to remain conscious so that he could walk to safety after his master had finished closing the wound.
Finally, Aryn finished tracing the cut, and the bleeding stopped, leaving charred and blackened flesh where the cut had once been. Quinn’s body slumped for a moment, then he motioned for them to help him up. Aryn turned his attention to the woman. He instructed his implant to network with Quinn’s and see if it could translate a few words from what its counterpart had picked up. Surprisingly, it managed a translation for a request for her to take them somewhere safe.
“May you bring us safety?” He asked. She nodded. He managed another short sentence. “Please talk so machine can listen.” She looked at him with a confused stare, but he simply repeated “Please talk.” So, she began talking while they were helping Quinn back to her house. While he slowed their progress somewhat, it wasn’t nearly as bad as if he would have gone unconscious. His body had been thrown out of shock by the cauterization procedure, so he could walk with some assistance. The rain began to die down and finally stopped. The clouds parted to reveal the planet’s natural satellite, glowing with a reddish hint because of the moisture content in the air. With the Moon came the reassurance that there would be a tomorrow and that the world had not ended quite yet.
With that in mind, enjoy.
Star Wars: Whispers of the Sith
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Star Wars Crossover Fan Fiction Piece.
Disclaimer
Star Wars and any associated names are property solely of Lucasfilm Ltd.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and any related character are property solely of Mutant Enemy, Inc. These trademarks are being used in this writing for entertainment only, and no profit is being derived from their usage.
This work of fan fiction completely ignores any references made to the Star Wars trilogy by any characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, especially Xander.
Time Frame:
Earth: c. 2000 CE.
Begins after the BtVS episode “Into the Woods,” in the middle of the fifth season.
Star Wars Galaxy: c. 2000 years before the events of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace and c. 2000 years after.
Dramatis Personae (Major)
Quinn Seth: Male Padawan Learner of Master Aryn Paulsen.
Approximately 21 years of age.
Buffy Summers: Female Vampire Slayer under the guidance of Rupert Giles.
Approximately 20 years of age.
Aryn Paulsen: Male Jedi Master. Quinn’s master and friend. Approximately 40 years of age.
Darth Raythe: Dark Lord of the Sith on Earth, master of Darth Cythe. Latest master in Earth Sith Lord line.
Darth Cythe: Sith Lord apprentice of Darth Raythe.
Willow Rosenberg: Female Wicca. Buffy’s best friend and confidante.
Approximately 20 years of age.
Rupert Giles: Male Watcher. Buffy’s Watcher and confidante.
Approximately 50 years of age.
Alexander Harris: Male construction worker. Buffy’s friend and confidante.
Approximately 20 years of age.
Background
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
STAR WARS
WHISPERS OF THE SITH
Nearly two-thousand years have passed since the once-fledgling Rebel Alliance struck a fatal blow to the evil GALACTIC EMPIRE at the Battle of Endor and declared a NEW REPUBLIC over nearly three quarters of the galaxy. The Jedi Order again serves the Republic as the keepers of the peace in the galaxy.
Jedi explorers have discovered a wormhole on the Outer Rim that leads to another galaxy. Motivated by the fear instilled by past extragalactic encounters, including the dreaded Yuuzhan Vong, factions of the Senate have called for the destruction of the wormhole, while others wish to explore it.
With the decision of whether to explore the wormhole stymied in the Senate, the Jedi Council has secretly dispatched two Jedi to investigate the strong Dark Side presence surrounding the wormhole, thinking it may hold answers to the mysteries of the ancient Sith…
Chapter 1
c. 2000 years after the events of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace.
The stars hung in space, unperturbed by the massive amethyst flower of chaotic energy that stood resolutely in front of the small craft that dared approach it. Unconcerned with the new visitor in the system, the blossom’s tendrils of energy weepingly swayed about, as if conducting a soundless symphony in the vacuum of space.
The small exploratory shuttle was not an imposing vessel, but it was preferred among the Knights of the Jedi Order, who required speed, both sublight and supralight, without sacrificing decent armament and protection. Master Aryn Paulsen and his apprentice, Quinn Seth, were no exceptions. The two seemed to be an unlikely pair of humans. Aryn was middle-aged with his skin worn from his many years as a servant of the Jedi Order and, by extension, the galaxy. His features were sharply defined, right down to the short beard and hair which he kept carefully trimmed. Quinn, in contrast, had a very smooth appearance, his hair only a few centimeters longer than his master’s, styled to complement the smooth contours of his face.
As soon as they’d exited hyperspace, the cockpit seemed to get heavier. There was something weighing them down. Quinn’s anticipating blue eyes had dropped to a sort of weary state. His master, however, seemed unaffected by what was sure to be the Dark Side energies emanating from the spacetime phenomenon.
“Well, there it is,” Quinn observed the giant blossom in the viewport.
“What do you feel?” Aryn asked his apprentice.
“I’m getting all sorts of contradiction from it, Master. It’s frightening, yet alluring at the same time. It’s trying to make me drop my guard, I think,” Quinn responded.
“Hm … it’s the work of the Dark Side, that much is certain,” Aryn said. The wormhole had clearly not been created naturally, and it teemed with a dark aura, which was why the Council had sent him and his apprentice to investigate.
Master Paulsen was recognized among the Jedi as an authority on the history of the Sith. His study of the ancient order kept him treading the thin line of temptation, but his remarkable willpower had allowed him to resist the lure of the dark power continually. If there was anyone who could glean information regarding the Sith from this phenomenon, it was he.
“Strange, that something so beautiful could have been born out of such malice and dark power,” Quinn said.
“Be aware of your feelings, Quinn. Do not walk the line between respect and admiration lightly. While the Sith and the Dark Side are powerful, we must remember that they are evil and have chosen to wield their power selfishly,” Aryn cautioned. Resisting the temptation of the Dark Side was something that he’d impressed upon his padawan from the very beginning and emphasized above everything else save patience.
“Yes, of course, Master,” Quinn said, still studying the vortex curiously, his blue eyes reflecting the intense, pale purple light radiating away from it. “What if it’s an illusion, not really a wormhole? The Sith were capable of such things,” Quinn asked, quite legitimately. Now that they were actually in the presence of the wormhole, he was having a hard time controlling his fear. Entering a creation born completely from dark power was not something to be taken lightly.
“Regardless of how it was created, it is a gateway, that much has been confirmed. The Force is still a natural phenomenon, and its creations are still susceptible to the same laws that govern everything else. The wormhole is definitely emitting tachyon and hyperspace particles,” Aryn mused. “This could account for Darth Bane’s disappearance over four-thousand years ago. He’d have likely sealed it, though. The question is why it has reopened.”
Darth Bane was the Sith Lord who had begun the tradition of having only one master and one apprentice at a given time in the Sith Order. No record ever surfaced of the Sith Lord’s death. He had simply disappeared.
“Take us in,” he instructed. Quinn pushed the throttle forward, accelerating them into the gaping maw. Once they breached the wormhole’s event horizon, the stars and scenery in front of them stretched into long blurs of their former selves, and in a bright white flash, they were in hyperspace, hurting toward their destination at speeds far greater than even the fastest of hyperdrives could reach.
c. 2000 CE, Earth.
Buffy still sat on the stairs. She had been there the whole night. She couldn’t believe that she’d let Riley get away. Xander had been right. She had let her pride destroy her relationship with Riley, first by not letting him into her life to help her through bad times, and just now by refusing to consider his ultimatum that either she start sharing herself completely with him or he’d leave. The possibility that he had been right had never crossed her mind. She never considered how the way she’d been treating him may have made him feel. This isn’t the time for this. I’ve got to be strong. If I’m not, no one will be. She sought to pull herself out of her depression, realizing that those were the thoughts that had gotten her there in the first place. But, wasn’t it true? Who would be strong if she wasn’t?
The morning glow on her blonde hair dimmed, and the twinkling of her tears faded. Someone was at the front door, obstructing the morning sunshine coming in through the window. A few seconds later, a quiet knock sounded. She still sat there, hoping it was Riley, but refusing to answer, knowing that her vain hopes would be crushed upon opening the door. About half-a-minute later, a knock sounded again.
She mustered the emotional strength to get up. She walked cautiously toward the door. Wiping the tears from her eyes and making an effort at self-composure, she opened the door.
When the door swung open, it was indeed, not Riley. Even so, she sprung at the visitor and clung to him as if he were her sole source of life at the moment.
“Oh, Xander, I’m so glad you came,” she said. He put his arms around her and dutifully gave her his emotional support as a friend needed. Xander knew for certain, now, that Riley had left.
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, wetting his shoulder slightly with newly-arrived tears.
“I’m sorry that it happened. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, especially not now,” Xander consoled her. They stood there for the next few minutes, with Buffy wrapped around Xander. Finally, Buffy pulled her head from his shoulder. Her face reddened and wet.
“Your makeup’s running,” Xander said, in an effort to lift her spirits. She managed a short gasp of laughter and her face wrinkled with a badly-needed smile. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll make you breakfast.”
He led her into her kitchen and pulled out her chair in a gentlemanly fashion. He then proceeded to open the refrigerator and begin his hunt.
“Eggs OK with you?” he asked, still hunched over digging, knowing that she wouldn’t refuse his offer.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said, showing slight improvement in her mood. “You can cook?” she asked.
“Not at all. I can, however, crack open bird embryos and fry them,” he said. “Ah-hah!” he exclaimed, signifying that his search was over. He spun around, displaying two white eggs in his left hand, holding them aloft as prizes.
After indulging in Xander’s culinary experiment, the two of them simply sat back quietly for a couple of minutes, staring blankly. Xander waited until he felt Buffy could cope with talking about the events of the previous night.
“So, he just wasn’t there?” he asked, cautiously. She paused a moment, recollecting her thoughts.
“No, he was there,” she began. Xander’s dismay began to show through at the thought of Riley simply rejecting her after she had been willing to do as he asked. “But, the helicopter was already in the air. It was so loud that he just … couldn’t hear me, or didn’t want to,” she said, in a quivering tone. “I wonder how long he waited, or if he even really wanted me back.” Xander wasn’t quite sure how to respond. If he told her that he was sure Riley had waited a long time, it would look, to her, even more like a failure on her part. If he told her that he hadn’t waited long, she would feel rejected. The same went for if he wanted her back. Telling her that he did would give the impression of personal failure, while telling her that he didn’t would push the burden of rejection on her.
“Hey, don’t think like that,” he said. He decided on a response. “Of course he wanted you back.”
“I should have realized it sooner.” she said, slipping back into a depressive state.
“Hey, it’s alright. No one’s blaming you. You tried,” Xander said quietly, trying to relieve the immense anguish overcoming her.
“He is. He’s blaming me.”
“No, I don’t think so. Not deep down. I think he knows that you still want him. And he wants you.”
“Then, why did he leave?” she asked, innocently.
“I … don’t know. I don’t even think that he knows. Sometimes things just happen,” Xander said, trying to think of something that wouldn’t bring her down even further.
“Why do they always happen to me? First Angel, now Riley…,” she said, looking down at the floor, her voice trailing off.
“You can handle it, Buff; you’re strong. You’re my hero, remember? You thought you couldn’t handle college, and now, you don’t have a problem. All you needed was a little support from your friends,” Xander said, triggering an idea in his head. He got up and, reaching across the table, put his hand on her face, caressing it gently. “I’ll be right back. I have to make a call.”
In a remote region of the planet Earth, Darth Raythe was plotting and scheming. Safely hidden in his sanctuary, content to direct large portions of demonic and evil activity on the blue planet, he only became directly involved when there was a major threat to his power. To date, there had been several potential apocalypses, but none of them were beyond the abilities of others to combat. In spite of his hatred for the Slayer and the Watcher’s Council, he used them as tools rather than simply destroy them. They stopped evil powerful enough to threaten him, thus he did not have to risk himself but remained in control anyway.
Now, however, he could not risk the failure of his unwitting pawns. There was a great evil that had come to this world, and his meditations had revealed little, except that he must become involved in this fight, personally. As of late, the future was clouded with an uncertainty he’d never encountered before. A great power was surfacing, and it was preparing to act. This new force could threaten everything the line of Sith Lords on the planet had worked to create. The demons, the conflict and, most of all, the fear in the humans themselves. Fear kept them all in line, fear of their fictitious gods and other such superstitions. All that could be destroyed. He would not let it happen. He would not lose his power.
It was not surprising that this phantom menace was located on the Hellmouth. He and his apprentice would have to go and deal with the threat personally. It was simply beyond the ability of the Slayer and her cohorts to deal with. This called for discretion, though. No one could know of his existence. He was confident in his ability to deal with his enemies, but one must never underestimate the inventiveness and cunning of a foe. Given time, they could discover the secrets of the Sith and oust his line from power. Power was the only end the Sith cared about, and the Force was their means to that end.
Then, as if to compound this threat, he felt a sudden spike in the otherwise calm waters of the Light Side of the Force. The Slayer had not died, so a new one had not risen. Perhaps a natural Wicca? No, even they were not so strong or focused as this. Had the Jedi finally found this world, the last Sith stronghold? If so, he would have to have them disposed of immediately. If anyone could threaten him directly, it would be Jedi. He smiled a crooked, evil smile at the possibility, though. Finally, he would see from what caliber the Jedi were forged.
The spinning blue vortex resolved itself into a seemingly infinite number of starlines, which compressed into tiny points of white light. They were on the other side of the wormhole, wherever that was. In front of them was a system of nine planets dancing their orbital dance around a yellow star. Quinn was already at work scanning the system for life.
“Only one of the planets has life on it. Looks pretty divided. All the industry is concentrated in a few key areas. They’ve got artificial satellites and what looks like a primitive space–Ooh, there’s an asteroid field between the fourth and fifth planets,” Quinn said with a mischievous grin. Aryn frowned and looked at him. His apprentice had a strange lure to asteroid fields and a desire to fly through them at maximum acceleration. In the 27,000 years that galactic civilization had been in existence, Corellians hadn’t changed a bit.
“There’ll be no ‘practice maneuvers’ at this time, Quinn,” he said, sounding authoritative and somewhat scolding. Quinn simply shrugged and mostly hid the disappointment from his face. Mostly.
Quinn began reporting his sensor readings again. “Hey, they’ve even got a space telescope! They’re just starting to explore space, so they may be able to detect us,” Quinn reported.
“Engage the cloak,” Aryn ordered. Quinn pressed a button on the control panel, and the view outside disappeared for a split second before reappearing when the tachyon sensors kicked in. “Alright, take us in. Where do you think we should land?” Quinn brought up a holographic image of the planet in the center of the cockpit, which promptly began spinning to mimic the motion of its original template. After studying it and opening himself to the Force for guidance, he touched a small area on the Western coast of the Northwestern continent.
“There,” he said. Upon his touch, the holographic planetary surface unwrapped itself into a rectangular sheet and then turned face-up so that both the occupants could read it.
“Any particular reason?” Aryn asked.
“I’m not really sure. It’s just where I feel we should go,” Quinn responded, not quite sure himself. Aryn thought for a moment.
“Agreed. It should be the middle of the night in that region, by now, so there’s no better time to land. Set a course, and take us in.” Quinn did so, wondering what it was the Force wanted him to see down there. The sleek little ship shot toward the blue planet like a dart to the bull’s-eye.
As the planet grew larger in their view, both of them were beginning to realize why Quinn had picked the spot he had. The dark and light forces in that area were violent and constantly clashing, neither gaining a decisive advantage. It was chaotic, and Quinn was wondering where the powerful presence of light was coming from, if not from another Jedi.
Chapter 2
“Willow!” Buffy exclaimed as her friend came walking through the doorway that Xander had opened for her. Willow scuttled to meet Buffy and took her in a warm, friendly hug.
“Oh, Buffy, I’m so sorry. Everything’ll be alright, don’t worry,” Willow consoled her almost immediately. With her innocent, semiconfused voice, Willow always sounded completely sincere.
“It’s alright, Wil,” Buffy said back. At the moment, Willow seemed more upset about the affair than Buffy did, but then again, real friends always did.
“No!” Willow insisted. “No, it’s not! He’s a creep, and … and he doesn’t deserve you, anyway, so you really shouldn’t worry about him or his government, demon-chasing … guys,” Willow said, sporadically. It was almost as if she wanted to go off on a tangent but couldn’t quite manage it.
“C’mon, Wil, we can bash him some other time. Right now, that’s the last thing I want on my mind,” Buffy responded, trying to calm her already jittery best friend down.
“Oh, Okay. We can go out to dinner!” she suggested happily. Then, realizing it was morning, a grimace settled on her face. “In the morning! We can go out to dinner in the morning! It’ll be something new and, and … different, and it’s sure to take your mind off of all your troubles!” she finished, barely.
“Well,” Xander interjected, “In light of my unsuccessful foray into the nuclear science realm, I think we should go get some real breakfast.”
“Huh?” Willow asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“Xander tried to cook,” Buffy informed her. Willow looked at him quizzically.
“But, you can’t cook. I’ve seen you try. It always ends up like the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters,” she observed.
“Yeah, well this time, I decided to experiment with Big Bird’s unhatched offspring. And, unlike the electric chair, it does matter how long you keep them in there,” Xander explained, gesturing to the now-cold culinary disaster lying in the sink.
“I don’t know if I even want to hear about last time,” Buffy mused. Xander and Willow both smiled at her lighter mood. They’d done their duty as friends and cheered her up.
“Well, where should we eat? Something fancy…,” Xander began, putting his hand to his chin and rubbing it thoughtfully as if he were contemplating the crucial clue in a murder case. Then, simultaneously having the same thought, they all echoed, “McDonalds!”
The last of the sunlight blinked out as the tiny craft crossed entirely into the blue planet’s shadow on a vector that took it perpendicular to the imaginary line running through the sun and the planet.
“What kind of detection systems do they have?” Aryn asked.
“It looks like just EM-based signaling, from what I’m getting in the atmosphere,” Quinn reported.
“Good. Deactivate the cloak. Our ECM should be able to avoid their sensors,” Aryn ordered. They’d have had to deactivate the cloaking shield anyway, but it was better to know that their regular stealth could evade the planet’s sensors. Because it warped spacetime around the ship so that light didn’t reflect off the hull, the ship generated astronomical amounts of outward gravitational force that were contained within a very small space around it. After about one or two millimeters above the hull contours, there were no abnormal gravitational effects. Nevertheless, any air molecules or clouds that they ran into during atmospheric flight would be hurtled away from the ship, causing a monstrous shockwave that would probably, if they flew over the ocean as they intended to, create a massive tidal wave. Consequently, the equal reaction forces, even when applied to a tiny air molecule, would crush the ship when in an atmosphere.
He saw the coastline up ahead. It must have been early night, since a good deal of the lights on the towers of the coastal city were lit. At that point, Quinn let the autopilot take over and guide them exactly where he had specified. They arrived within minutes, and were now considering their options for a landing spot.
The apprentice digested the news without any display of emotion on his scarred, hard-edged face, but the master could sense his elation and bloodlust. Through his training and service to his master, Darth Cythe had slain many challenging opponents, from Wicca and warlocks to seemingly insurmountable demons. To date, however, he had never faced a Slayer, and had resigned himself to the notion that he’d never face a Jedi Knight, his order’s ancient enemies.
All that, however, was about to change. The Jedi had indeed, finally, found their way to Earth. He, like his master, had felt the veritable tidal waves of disturbance in the Force, but only his master had the wisdom to interpret them as unquestionably being the result of Jedi Knights entering their vicinity. His training in the Sith arts was primarily based on the idea of defeating Jedi. Through the generations of Sith rule on this planet, the training had been modified to prepare Sith warriors for the threats it offered, but the training regimen still held the same, basic principle at heart. How he had yearned to face a Jedi, to finally put his training to the ultimate test. Entire generations had passed before him, and he would be the one to finally confront the Jedi and drive them from this world.
Darth Raythe was pleased with his apprentice’s enthusiasm, for he himself had not only desired to see Lord Cythe’s skills put to the ultimate test, but his own, as well. He would now be given the chance to outwit and outplay Jedi in a complex game of strategy. With the unknown evil that had crept from the shadows into this world, there was yet another variable in that game, another challenge to overcome, another thing to play the Jedi against. He would have a very sweet, lasting victory.
They sat, the six of them, on the family room couch or on the floor in Buffy’s house. Willow and Xander had decided not to take along their respective girlfriends on their day out with Buffy. Flaunting successful relationships in her face may not be such a good idea. Eventually, though, Anya and Tara had shown up at Buffy’s house to help try and ease her pain a little. Although, relationship signals had been put on hold for the evening. Giles of course, came as well..
They had spent the better part of the afternoon in Giles’ shop, the Magic Box, after breakfast. It had been a fairly uneventful day in terms of customers, which was okay. They had let Buffy go in her training area for a while and take out a few frustrations while getting her workout. After that, they went out to lunch and then retreated back to Buffy’s home to pass the rest of the day until Buffy would begin the night’s patrol. They had ordered a pizza and rented a movie. Much to Giles’ dismay, they rented Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
“You know, you’re Bri’ish,” he said, purposefully omitting the “t” sound in a mock British accent. “The movie’s British. Why don’t you like it?”
“It’s ridiculous. Who’s ever heard of an enchanter named Tim for heaven’s sakes? And, the ending doesn’t make any sense,” Giles said flippantly.
“Okay, let’s hear the real reason,” Xander said accusingly.
“All right,” Giles said reluctantly. “If you must know, this film was my bane, as an Englishman, during my tenure at Sunnydale High School.”
“What? Did someone bash you over the head with a poster or something?” Xander asked curiously, trying to suppress the outburst laughter that was imminent. He did, after all, want to hear the full explanation before he commenced rolling on the floor.
“Every bloody teenager seems to have seen that film. I’d be in the halls and I’d constantly hear the same lines from it being shouted over and over. And, they’d always have these ridiculous mock-British accents. It was so insulting.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Xander said, chuckling. The movie had just gotten to a scene involving a killer rabbit being defeated through the employment of a Holy Hand Grenade. Giles smirked at the notion of a Holy Hand Grenade.
“I saw that smirk,” Willow said, as if she had just discovered fire. “You like the movie! You’re just too English to admit it!”
“Don’t be absurd, I–” Giles began, but was cut off by Buffy.
“Well, I have to go out and patrol,” she said, completely changing the subject.
“Right now? King Arthur just defeated the killer rabbit!” Willow protested.
“I know, and I’m sure everything turns out for the best at the end. And, you know, evil doesn’t take holidays for my emotional problems,” she said, getting up and walking over to get her jacket.
“Actually, they all get arrested at the end for killing that historian,” Tara informed Buffy. Buffy frowned in mock disappointment and let out an exaggerated sigh.
“You ruined the ending!” Her brow crinkled in thought. “You’re right,” she said, looking at Giles. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Putting on her jacket, she grabbed a stake and promptly exited.
Buffy proceeded to take her standard route, letting any interludes in the action become filled with her own meandering thoughts. She reflected back and wondered how long it had taken her to get over Angel. Had it been a week? Two weeks? She knew that, deep down, she’d never truly be over Angel. Their connection had seemed like one orchestrated by fate. Was Riley the same way? Would she have two lost presences in her life?
There was very little activity on the streets and in the alleys tonight, which meant one thing: They were all in the cemetery. Preparing for a fight and temporarily shoving the Riley-related thoughts out of her head, she began making her way toward the cemetery.
Quinn had guided the ship to a convenient landing spot. With their cloaking shield unusable in atmosphere, the ship was still perceptible to simple eyesight, no matter how well its ECM systems could counter the radio waves that appeared to be the basis for all of the planet’s sensors. Even in a remote landing spot like the one they had picked, they couldn’t risk having their ship spotted.
The solution was a thin membrane, which utilized rapidly updating holographic fields, lining the hull that took panoramic pictures of the ship’s surroundings and displayed them across the hull, updating them every one-sixtieth of a second to create the illusion of smooth motion to a casual observer. The landing gear was tall enough to prevent anyone from walking into the hull, so the only way to detect the ship was to walk into the landing struts or jump up while standing under the hull. In the isolated spot they’d picked for a landing, neither of these cases seemed likely.
The spot in question was a natural clearing in a forest canopy that Quinn maneuvered the ship into with only minor difficulties. When they flew by, they’d spotted a small town that was definitely the focal point of what they’d both been sensing earlier. So, they flew out a respectable distance, landed and uploaded a map of the surrounding area attained from their scans to their datapads.
“I suppose we should take along our protocol implants,” Quinn said.
“Indeed,” Aryn replied. He opened a small compartment in the side dash of the cockpit and retrieved two very small disks. Handing one to Quinn, he popped the other in his right ear. Quinn did likewise. The small device attached itself to his inner ear securely.
When the device activated, he heard, “Good day, Sir. I am Eltee Eye Seven, Language Translation Implant. Would you like to begin neural interfacing now? Please say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ or tap your temple once or twice for each response, respectively.” The LTI-7 was designed so that it could function covertly and receive input from casual gestures, but no such subterfuge was required here. He simply replied.
“No, await my command to begin language processing and translation,” he told the small droid, who replied with a simple
“Very good, Sir.” Aryn had also finished relaying his instructions to his implant. They stopped by the ship’s stores and collected some rations as well as other basic survival gear that had been packed into a set of utility belts for each of them.
They disembarked the ship, summarily activating the holoshield that would hide it from sight. As soon as the ramp closed, both the Jedi became nearly invisible, their black cloaks blending with the night.
“How long have we got to walk?” Aryn asked.
“About ten kilometers or so, then we’ll reach what looked like the town limits,” Quinn said, examining his datapad and plotting the quickest course. The green glow illuminated the portion of his face that his hood’s shadow did not conceal. He pointed toward where his datapad had indicated. “That way.” With that, both the Jedi set out into the woods with the wind at their backs, giving them both the distinct impression that some higher power was hurrying them to their destination.
“Tell me, Lord Cythe. If you were a Jedi who had just discovered this world, where would you be most likely to go?” Darth Raythe didn’t so much ask as demand an answer. He knew his apprentice would not disappoint, and his expectations were met.
“The Hellmouth, Master,” Cythe responded neutrally. The Hellmouth, where the Slayer was currently stationed, was a region of the planet especially conductive to supernatural energies and forces. As such, many cataclysmic and apocalyptic events had taken place there, and it emanated such tidal waves in the Force that it would be extremely easy to overlook Raythe’ own aura of dark power on a casual glance of the world.
“Yes, I have foreseen as much. Go to the Hellmouth, Lord Cythe. Test these Jedi; see from what fire they are forged. Even if you could easily kill them, you must not. We will not squander an opportunity to learn about our ancient foes. Do you understand?” Raythe asked.
“I obey and understand, my Master.” Lord Cythe knew his priorities. He was to obey his master above all else. Raythe’s cloaked figure motioned for him to leave.
“Go, and take the Sith Infiltrator. The Jedi will be landing shortly, and it is the only way you can get there quickly enough,” he ordered. The Sith Infiltrator, which had brought the first Sith Lord to this world, Darth Bane, was truly a remarkable collaborative display of the Dark Side and the world of technology. The ship had survived in perfect working condition for thousands of years, fueled by an intimate bond that it had with each of the Dark Jedi who had piloted it. Cythe executed an unhastened bow and left his master’s presence.
Buffy had arrived in the cemetery without incident, and she immediately began scouting around for any freshly burst-through graves. She found none, but she caught a hand emerging from the ground. The hand kept struggling to free the rest of the body it was attached to, flailing all about. It was obvious that this one would take a bit of time, so Buffy just perched on the grave’s tombstone. A light rain began to fall, making the ground a little softer and easier to punch through.
“Poor vamp. You won’t even get to eat something before you’re dead. What a miserable way to start off eternal life,” she mused with a touch of sincerity in her mocking tone. Suddenly, the vampire managed to spout through the rest of the dirt wall that had previously encased him. His face was the contorted, ugly mutilation of a human face that vampires could assume at will, with an overpronounced brow line and a stretched mouth to more easily accommodate for victims’ necks. This one used to be an attractive male, but now he was just evil that she was sworn to destroy. And destroy she would.
The new vampire immediately recognized her as the Slayer, which all of them could and did. He spat threats at her, but she knew he couldn’t make good on them. They circled each other for a few seconds before Buffy decided that she just wanted to get this over with and get some sleep. She launched herself in the air, easily clearing the vampire’s head, so quickly that he couldn’t react in time to the first strike. She forward rolled in midair and kicked her legs out, catching her opponent in the back of the head and sending him face first into the ground.
She landed perfectly with cat-like grace and turned around to finish him off. The vampire would not be so easily dusted, however. He turned to face her and swung a furious right hook, fueled by supernatural strength. That strength, however, proved to be his downfall. The augmented force in his blow threw his center of gravity off its base of support, which landed him momentarily off balance. He also telegraphed the move rather obviously, so Buffy had no trouble countering it and using his clumsiness to her advantage.
With the amount of rotational momentum he’d inflicted upon himself, he had virtually turned his back to her. She crouched in preparation for her next few blows and swept his off-balance legs out from under him, which landed him on his face, again. This time, in proper positioning for the blow, she executed a quick side roll and came out straddling the vampire’s back. She drove the stake down toward his heart with all her strength and heard a sickening noise as it penetrated, followed by the customary screaming noise that accompanied the process through which vampires turned to dust.
She rose. Well, that was easy enough, she thought. Guess I’d better check around a little more. She went around the perimeter of the cemetery and finding nothing, was prepared to call it a night. The once light rain was quickly turning into a downpour, and she wasn’t eager to risk something as mundane as the common cold keeping her in the house for the next few days while she’d staved off her share of apocalypses.
Then she heard the sounds of a fight off on the other side of the graveyard that she’d cleared only fifteen minutes prior. She turned to raced toward it, only to be confronted by another vampire who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
After hours of walking, they’d finally seen a clearing in the forest. The clearing was a giant yard with rectangular stones jutting out of the ground at perpendicular angles. It was quite an eerie environment, and the rain which had begun to fall did not help make it any more welcoming. Quinn and Aryn both pulled the hoods of their cloaks up, offering minimal protection against the small pellets of water strafing their faces, but it was better than nothing.
The place was cold, not so much in the weather sense as its sense in the Force. There was darkness and death in this place, and it was as permeating as the fog. Quinn let out a slight shiver. His master acknowledged the feeling.
“I feel it, as well. It’s like passing through the Alderaanian Graveyard. Even after thousands of years, those last voices still echo in the Force,” Aryn said. It occurred to him that this could be a sort of graveyard, as well. He bent down to examine one of the stones, which bore engraved text that looked strangely familiar, but Aryn was quite sure that he’d never seen such a dialect before.
Both the Jedi’s augmented senses then picked up the familiar sounds of a brawl in the distance. As Quinn began rushing toward the commotion, a hand jutted out from the patch of grass Aryn had been standing on. Surprised, Aryn called Quinn back to help out the unfortunate fellow who’d obviously been buried alive by mistake. They had to get indoors and quickly. The sky was flashing with lightning, which was followed up very quickly by thunder, meaning that the worst parts of the storm were not far from their location.
The man, whoever he was, had incredible strength, and he could have easily made it out of the ground by himself. With both the Jedi’s aid, though, he was above ground in a very timely fashion. The man’s body was that of a human, but his face was contorted and mutilated. Perhaps this was the evolutionary result of this species? Neither Jedi had time to ponder such thoughts, as the man, as soon as he came out of the ground, attacked them both, hissing and spitting.
Then Aryn felt it. There was no light in this creature. It was a work purely of the Dark Side with no hope of redemption. He drew his lightsaber and summoned the green blade to life with a flick of his thumb. At the same time, he shouted to Quinn. “Go, help whoever is on the other side; I’ll handle this.” Quinn obediently retreated, running off in the direction of the broil they’d heard earlier.
Aryn’s lightsaber had startled the creature to no end. Even so, it was possessed by a carnal hunger for something that, apparently, only the Jedi could provide him with at the moment. It charged him, which was the worst possible thing it could have done. Aryn merely pivoted and shoved the glowing green blade through its midsection, the frictionless edge meeting zero resistance.
He’d expected this to be the end of the engagement, but he had been severely mistaken. He withdrew his blade, but the thing remained standing, and with hands poised to put him in a bear hug and fangs borne, it charged him again, more slowly and in considerable pain. He gracefully pivoted, preparing to lop the thing’s head off, but it was fast even in its wounded state. It leaned back at an impossible angle with the blade missing its head and slashing mere centimeters above its chest. It came back up and loosed a vicious side kick to Aryn’s face, which he artfully dodged by rolling under the kick and coming back up in a stabbing position behind his opponent.
He again stabbed the blade into the creature, this time into its neck. He retrieved his blade from the now cauterized hole in the creature’s stem, leaving what looked like two supports holding the head in place. However, it was not dead. It turned to him, in obvious pain, unable to produce sound because of the lightsaber’s quick vaporization of its vocal cords. Aryn was yet again flabbergasted by the thing’s resilience. It started stumbling toward him with more desperation than fury in its eyes. By the Force, this thing shouldn’t even be able to move!
Aryn then decided to simply decapitate the thing. If that didn’t work, he was at a loss for ideas. He swung his lightsaber on an arc that intersected the thing’s neckline. As soon as he’d cut through it completely, the head falling off and the body falling down burst into dust. Aryn stared at the spot where it had been, completely at a loss for an explanation. Through the pitter-patter of the rain, he heard what sounded like a repulsorlift vehicle. The sound was growing louder and getting closer, but he had seen no indication of that kind of technology on this planet. Then realization hit him, and he immediately began scanning the obscured sky for incoming ships.
Quinn could make out two figures through the downpour with the aid of his Force-enhanced senses. One was a female, and the other was like that creature he and his master had encountered just moments ago. They were brawling, as he expected, and the woman was winning handily. She was currently smashing her opponent’s head into her knee repeatedly. After she was through battering his face, she threw him outward with the arm that was still grasping the hair on his head. He went flying almost a meter and landed on his back. Quinn was astounded. The woman looked human, but no human could possibly manage that much leverage and strength. She had an incredible presence in the Force; she was literally teeming with its energy. She must have been what he felt when they first arrived in this system.
He had intended to help whichever party he thought was on the good side, if he could determine that, but it was obvious that the woman was both good and in no need of assistance, so he simply watched her. She leapt into the air a full two meters and came crashing down on the dazed creature, who was still flat on his back. She punched him in the face once more for good measure and then withdrew something from her coat. It was sharp, whatever it was. She sent it slamming down into his chest, and the creature vanished into a cloud of dust. It was unlike anything Quinn had ever seen before.
The woman rose to her feet and took notice of him. With her face turned toward him, he could make out her features, her extremely pleasing features. She was very beautiful, even with her blonde hair wet and unkempt and her smooth face wet. Water was seeping between her blue eyes and running down her slightly pointed nose. He caught himself staring as she began walking toward him. Once she got within hearing distance, she began to speak. He didn’t understand, of course, but he tapped his temple twice and activated the small droid nestled in his ear, and it began recording and working on translation algorithms. Hopefully, the droid would be able to translate what she said in a short time. In the meantime, he subtly urged her thoughts away from threats, using the Force to convey the spirit of his intentions as well as the fact that he could not understand her yet.
She’d been screaming through the rain at him for almost half a minute, and he hadn’t done a thing but tap his head. Who was he? Then, she felt a wash of calm come over her, along with the sense that this cloaked figure she had just encountered was not a threat. He just couldn’t understand her. She settled on what she thought her instincts were telling her and began to gesture outside of the cemetery, motioning that he should follow her. He looked like he was about to say something when he turned his attention to something else. Above the sound of the rain and thunder was what sounded like an engine, growing louder. His eyes widened and his head snapped to meet her eyes. She suddenly felt that she was in danger.
Her feelings her confirmed when the man leapt toward her with blinding speed, throwing her away from what was now a smoking crater in the ground. It all happened so quickly that she couldn’t even recall it. Then she saw the source of the destruction. Something was flying above them, red lances spilling from its front. She couldn’t make it out in detail, and she didn’t have the time to. The ground was exploding all around her; trees had caught on fire. The man got up off of her and motioned for her to stay down.
“The Hell I’ll stay put! What was that?!” She demanded. He didn’t answer. He only withdrew two short cylinders from his belt and eyed the craft now hovering above them. A small hatch opened, and someone dropped out, landing gracefully after a full ten meter fall. She suddenly felt very cold inside as the new arrival cast his gaze in her direction and then directly toward her new companion. Both cast off the cloaks they were wearing, obviously preparing for a fight.
With the flickering fire from the burning trees, she could now make out the man’s face. It was smoothly contoured with a nose that stuck up just short of perpendicular. His short hair had fallen evenly around his head by virtue of the rain. The blue eyes with which he had gazed upon her so intently with were now directed at the new arrival. His face was far less amenable to the eye. It was hard and seemed to remain hidden in the shadows despite the firelight. He took a long tube from his belt, held it vertically and flicked his forefinger.
Out from each end came a glowing red blade. He assumed a fighting stance which favored aggressive attacks with the majority of weight on his front foot. From each of the tubes in her companion’s hand came glowing blue blades, one shorter than the other. They came alive with a snap-hiss and waited patiently for a battle with their steady thrum. The rain droplets evaporated all around the two glowing blades, creating a halo of steam around them as he assumed a low back stance with the shorter blade pointing directly outward and the longer pointing forward above his head, like a scorpion stinger.
Just as the dark man was preparing to attack, yet another man with a glowing blade, his green, launched into the scene, attacking the one she had mentally dubbed as Red Blades. Green Blade was on the attack, and Blue Blades, apparently his ally, sprinted off to join the fray. And, thus, the three combatants began to dance.
There were clouds of steam wherever they took their battle, and sometimes their blades hit forcefully and energetically enough to create a temporary, visible shockwave through the increasingly thick medium that the rain and thick, humid air provided. Red Blades must have known that, even with his unbelievably quick reflexes and creative responses, he could not last long against a two-to-one disadvantage, as well as a blade of discrepancy.
Green Blade, despite being the only combatant with one weapon, seemed to move most expertly and strategically of them. He coordinated with Blue Blades to throw Red off balance, but it would take more than that to defeat him. Green and Blue were pushing their advantage to the limit, though, and Red was beginning to have trouble. His hits seemed to be a little off, hitting the tombstones around their ever-changing fighting ring, spraying rocks and rubble all over the ground. The only chance he had was to knock out Green or Blue.
He knew that much, and he’d known it from the moment the battle had begun, probably. Red’s strategy finally became clear. Parrying the last of Green and Blue’s blows, he jumped almost three meters off the ground and in midair, stretched out his hand. Buffy heard an explosive sound like a thunderbolt, only more subdued, and it didn’t come from the storm. At the same time, she saw a wave come crashing down through the rain toward the ground, right in the middle of Green and Blue.
Then she realized that he wasn’t simply getting sloppy when hitting the tombstones and sending debris flying. He had been preparing a deadly trap. The powerful wave slammed down on the debris and two men with an effect similar to blowing on eraser shavings, and the rocks went flying along with Green and Blue. With the rocks being lighter and having the roughly the same momentum imparted to them, they flew faster than Green and Blue and crashed into their bodies. Blue got hit and let out a blood curdling scream of pain. A sharp rock had flown into his face at an upward angle, tearing off a chunk of skin, replacing it with a red hunk of meat. Blood was seeping down his face and covering it quickly with the aid of the aquatic downpour.
Green, either by luck or skill, evaded any facial hits, his injury confined to a few bruises. He pressed on with new vigor, making up for his lost partner. He quickly and easily deflected Red’s high slashes and follow-up sweeps, but Buffy couldn’t watch the duel progress. She had to aid Blue, who had saved her life just moments earlier. She ran over to him. He was still conscious, pressing his hand against the wound. She took her jacket off, removed his red-soaked hand and pressed down on his face. He didn’t scream, instead repressing it with an audible groan. Buffy profusely apologized but continued pressing down. She hoped that Green would dispatch Red quickly, or her efforts here could end up being in vain.
Aryn pressed his attack again. The Sith Lord was fast, as the Jedi Holocrons had told, fast and precise. This one was also particularly clever. Most Sith Lords feel into one of two categories: the brains or the brawn. The apprentices usually wielded lightsabers, but fought exclusively with their weapons. This one set traps. He was not, however, unbeatable.
Aryn realized he’d need another blade to win this battle in short order enough to tend to his apprentice. He came in with a horizontal slash and forced the Sith’s blade vertical to deflect, and he used the temporary opening to pivot and put a fierce back kick into the Sith’s midsection, forcing him back. With the precious few seconds he had bought, he stretched out his hand and summoned Quinn’s long blade to it. The handle flew into his grasp, and he activated it just in time to deflect another onslaught from his Dark Jedi opponent.
With two blades, now, he could direct fully where he wanted the Sith’s double-bladed lightsaber to go. He slashed criss-cross to keep the Sith’s blade horizontal, and he finally came down with both blades and the same time. The blades were locked perpendicular for a few seconds until it became clear that the Sith would win their brute force contest. Of course, Aryn knew that. He wanted the Sith to push back as hard as he could.
Then the Jedi Master struck. He twirled both his blades backward, sending the Sith flying at him, a victim of his own momentum. He then brought his leg straight out and up like a pendulum, which intersected the hilt of the Sith’s long lightsaber, sending it flying upward. Before the lightsaber’s wielder could grab onto it again, Aryn quickly followed up his axe kick with a smooth pivot on his planted leg, sending a vicious side kick into the Sith’s chest. He went stumbling back, and he was now at the Jedi Master’s mercy. Aryn didn’t intend to show him any, and he attacked relentlessly. The Sith managed to dodge with an impressive series of sideways flips and twirls that moved him quickly toward his ship while providing the smallest, most dynamic target he could.
Once he was directly under the open hatchway on his ship’s belly, he leapt straight up and into it, closing it immediately after. The dagger-like Sith Infiltrator, the notorious ship class used by the ancient cult, shot off, reaching supersonic speeds in seconds and creating a sonic boom accompanied by a vapor wave through the rain. Aryn deactivated both lightsabers and watched the ship disappear from sight.
He turned and ran to where Quinn’s body lay. There was a woman with him trying to stop the torrent of blood escaping, but with a wound that serious, he’d need serious medical attention. Aryn gently removed the woman’s pressed hand from Quinn’s face, revealing the full extent of the wound. The pool of blood surrounding the thin, deep cut made it look more like a gash extending from between his nose and left eye and crossing to the right side of his forehead, ending just before the hairline. Aryn looked mercifully at Quinn.
“Quinn, this wound must be closed immediately,” he said. Quinn shunted aside the pain for a moment and nodded his head. He was still in shock, and he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t let himself go into a healing trance until he was safely off the field. Aryn tore a length of cloth from his tunic and wrapped it around his hand, creating a roughly cylindrical band of cloth. Quinn opened his mouth, and Aryn stuck it inside. Quinn bit down in preparation for the drastic, painful procedure which was necessary to save his life. He looked at the woman who realized what he intended to do. He nodded his head toward Quinn, and she understood. She kneeled behind Quinn and propped him up against her with both of her arms under his armpits, securing his upper body from struggle. Aryn sat across Quinn’s outstretched legs. It wasn’t an ideal form of restraint, but it was the best they could manage.
Aryn took Quinn’s short blade and activated it, adjusting the blade length to just short of half a meter. He stood up and without ceremony, touched the hot, blue blade to the wound, cauterizing it with intense heat and sending Quinn’s already-shocked body into convulsions of searing pain. The cloud of steam surrounding the blade only made the surrounding skin burn more easily, and it made him bite down even harder on the cloth Aryn provided, and only a pained moan escaped his throat. It took all his strength in the Force to remain conscious so that he could walk to safety after his master had finished closing the wound.
Finally, Aryn finished tracing the cut, and the bleeding stopped, leaving charred and blackened flesh where the cut had once been. Quinn’s body slumped for a moment, then he motioned for them to help him up. Aryn turned his attention to the woman. He instructed his implant to network with Quinn’s and see if it could translate a few words from what its counterpart had picked up. Surprisingly, it managed a translation for a request for her to take them somewhere safe.
“May you bring us safety?” He asked. She nodded. He managed another short sentence. “Please talk so machine can listen.” She looked at him with a confused stare, but he simply repeated “Please talk.” So, she began talking while they were helping Quinn back to her house. While he slowed their progress somewhat, it wasn’t nearly as bad as if he would have gone unconscious. His body had been thrown out of shock by the cauterization procedure, so he could walk with some assistance. The rain began to die down and finally stopped. The clouds parted to reveal the planet’s natural satellite, glowing with a reddish hint because of the moisture content in the air. With the Moon came the reassurance that there would be a tomorrow and that the world had not ended quite yet.
