(Welcome to my newest project: Spira Wars! I've had this idea in mind for well over a year, but I wanted to complete the other fic I was working on first. I am so excited about this-Star Wars and FFX/X-2 are two of my favorite fandoms. This will eventually be a series of 6 fics, spanning all of the Star Wars episodes. Please review, I've been looking forward to posting this for ages and I really want some feedback. Enjoy the story!)

Turmoil has engulfed the Galactic Republic of Spira. The taxation of trade routes to outlying star systems is in dispute. Hoping to resolve the matter with a blockade of deadly battleships, the Machine Faction has stopped all shipping to the small planet of Bevelle. While the Senate of the Spira Republic endlessly debates this alarming chain of events, the Grand Maester has secretly dispatched two Summoners, the guardians of peace and justice in Spira, to settle the conflict…
They hung in the black void of space like oversized insects, disturbing the otherwise picturesque beauty of the blue-green planet. Battleships, dozens of them—they had been stopping all traffic (except for the occasional authorised ship) in and out of Bevelle for over 2 weeks now.

The ship approaching at the moment was indeed authorised. It was a small transport, painted a dull red, and was headed straight for the largest ship of the entire fleet, the ship that held the leaders behind the blockade.

On board the small transport ship, one of its escorted passengers leaned down and touched the pilot on the shoulder. "Captain," came an authoritative male voice, from underneath a dark brown hood. "Tell them we want to board immediately."

"Of course." The pilot turned to her computer, and within seconds was able to bring up the image of a tall man with silver hair and beard—the President of the Machine Faction—on the screen.

"Lord Trema," she said respectfully. "With all due respect, the Ambassadors for the Grand Maester would like to board at once."

"Of course," said Trema, with a condescending smile. "We would be happy to receive the Ambassadors. As you know, our blockade is perfectly legal." The screen went black.

In the docking bay of the Machine Faction ship, the small transport glided in to a smooth landing. Two passengers disembarked, both clad in dark brown robes, one a little taller and wider in the shoulders than the other. They were met by a silver protocol droid, who showed them into a large conference room, complete with a long table and long, wide windows, through which the planet and the blockade could be seen. Only when they were alone did they pull back their hoods.

The taller and stockier of the two men was in his mid-40's, with chestnut brown eyes and grey-streaked black hair which he wore long, pulled back into a neat ponytail. Underneath his dark robe he wore a cream-colored tunic and pants, and hanging from his belt was a long scabbard, with the hilt of a sword (engraved with a symbol that could best be described as an eye with wings or a cyclops bird) visible at the top of it.

His companion, as well as being relatively short and slender, was at least 20 years his junior. He was in his early-mid 20's, with gold-brown skin and dark brown eyes, both of which were juxtaposed by his snow-white hair. He wore a blue headband to keep his bangs out of his eyes, his clothes were exactly the same as the older man's, and he too carried an engraved sword.

"I sense something, Master Auron," the young man said, looking around the room with a thoughtful air. The older man—Auron—looked up sharply, a slight frown on his face. He hadn't sensed anything, but he'd long since learned to trust his apprentice's intuition.

"What is it?" he asked curiously. "About the mission?"

"Not exactly, no," his apprentice replied, with a puzzled expression. "It's something elsewhere, elusive…"

Auron shook his head slightly. "We have a mission to focus on, Baralai," he said. "If whatever you're sensing is elsewhere, it's obviously not important right now."

"But High Summoner Bahamut says we should be mindful of the future," Baralai said, sounding slightly put out that Auron wasn't taking him seriously.

"Yes, but not at the expense of the moment," Auron replied, giving Baralai a look to assure him that he did take him seriously and wasn't trying to be patronizing. Baralai started to nod but abruptly stopped, suddenly looking sharply at Auron.

"Why are you concealing your Fayth Mark?" he asked. Auron's hand went by habit to his forehead, where he could feel a slightly warmer area of skin—his Fayth Mark, the magical tattoo that all full-fledged Summoners wore, the same shape that was on the hilt of his sword.

Auron sat down and gestured to Baralai to do the same. "Because we need not let them know that we're Summoners," he explained. "If they haven't already figured it out, I don't want to make it obvious."

"Ah, right." There was several seconds' pause, during which Baralai fiddled absent-mindedly with the sleeve of his robe, before he spoke up again.

"Is it particularly… painful?" he asked. "When you get your Fayth Mark?" Auron smiled slightly, knowing that this question was only a façade for Baralai's true concern.

"Not at all," Auron assured him. "It's not painful, just exhausting. After I went through the Trials and got mine, I slept for about eighteen hours." Baralai nodded but still looked worried, and Auron reached over to put a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll do fine in the Trials," he assured his apprentice. "I think you'll be ready sooner than you realise." Baralai pulled a doubtful expression and Auron chuckled.

"I'm serious," he said. "There's not much more you can learn from me. You're certainly calmer and less impulsive than I was at your age."

Baralai grinned and raised an eyebrow. "But no less stubborn, right?" Auron merely grunted, which seemed to amuse Baralai even more. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Baralai sighed and asked "Is it in their nature to make us wait this long?"

"No," said Auron promptly. "I sense an unusual amount of fear for something as trivial as these trade negotiations." He frowned. "There's something else going on here, I just don't know what it is."

At the same time as Auron and Baralai were talking in the conference room, Trema was having an urgent, whispered conversation with his second-in-command, Asriel, on the Bridge.

"They're Summoners? Are you sure?"

Asriel nodded. "Positive."

Trema swore. "Now what are we going to do?" he muttered. "We're no match for Summoners." Asriel opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the computer terminal behind them started beeping urgently.

"It's a transmission from Lord Omega," said Asriel, walking over and looking at the console.

Trema nodded. "Send it through." Asriel pressed a series of buttons and joined Trema in front of the console, where they both knelt on one knee as the image of the man they knew only as Lord Omega came into view. As usual, he was cloaked from head to foot in black and his face was in the deep shadow of a hood, so all they could see was the end of the nose and chin.

"Are the invasion plans on schedule?" Lord Omega asked in a cold, stern voice.

"Yes, My Lord," said Asriel. "The droids are being loaded onto the landing crafts as we speak."

"Very good," said Omega, with the shadow of a nod. "Proceed as planned."

"Lord Omega, sir," said Asriel hesitantly. "How are we to do this without generating sympathy for Bevelle in the Senate? This invasion won't be legal-"

"I will make it legal," Omega said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I have the Senate bogged down in procedures."

"And the Ambassadors, My Lord?" Trema asked. "They're Summoners. What should we do?"

"The Maester never should have brought them into this," Omega said flatly. "Kill them."

Trema almost protested but stopped himself, merely looking down and murmuring "As you wish, My Lord." As the image on the screen flickered and died, Trema swapped tortured looks with Asriel. How were they, corrupt bureaucrats who could barely tell one end of a blaster from the other, supposed to kill a pair of Summoners?

In the conference room, Baralai was talking with Auron when Auron abruptly stopped in mid-word and they both leapt out of their seats, eyes alert and adrenalin flooding through their veins. Baralai could sense—and Auron obviously could too—that the crew of the small ship they'd come in on had just been killed, all of their life forces disappearing in a single instant. They both drew their swords (the blade of Baralai's sword was glowing bright green, and the blade of Auron's was an equally bright red), and on Auron's forehead a brilliant red Fayth Mark blazed into existence.

Baralai and Auron glanced at each other and started to move cautiously towards the exit of the room when they heard a sudden hissing noise—a cloud of (undoubtedly poisonous) yellow mist had formed in front of the door, and was quickly starting to spread throughout the room.

Auron raised his eyebrows. "The red carpet has teeth," he said, sounding mildly surprised. He nodded to Baralai and they both inhaled deeply and held their breath, their swords up as they walked into the cloud of mist.

They could sense the danger even before they emerged from the cloud, and when they got out into the hallway Auron and Baralai were confronted by at least 15 battle droids. They used their swords to deflect the droids' blaster shots (the energy bolts bounced off the blades, which were ablaze with the magic that was being channelled into them), and began slicing through the droids as they moved forward.

"Don't bother going after all of them!" Auron called over to Baralai. "Cut the ones that matter, and run!" Baralai nodded briefly and raised his hand towards the nearest cluster of battle droids, using his magic to shove them backwards into the wall. Together he and Auron cleared a path for themselves and ran down the corridor, turning a corner as soon as they could and heading for the Bridge.

Trema was trying not to panic. The summoners were headed this way, cutting through his battle droids with an ease and speed that terrified him. If he fled and let them get away, Lord Omega would kill him, and if he stayed where he was, the Summoners would kill him. He was stuck between a rock and a very hard place.

"They're coming through!" Trema looked around to see that the center of the door to the Bridge had become a patch of red-hot, molten metal—one of the Summoners was obviously using his enchanted sword to cut through it.

"Close the blast doors!" he snapped, trying not to let any nervousness show in his voice. Beside him, Asriel shook his head sadly.

"That won't be enough," he said. "Have you ever encountered a Summoner before, sir?"

Trema hadn't, but he'd heard the stories. And he had a bad feeling they weren't going to survive this.

Out in the corridor, Baralai was keeping watch while Auron cut through the thick steel door to the Bridge. He was just starting to come down from his surge of adrenalin when he heard an ominous clicking noise, and three large metal spheres, almost as big in diameter as he was tall, came rolling around the corner towards him and Auron.

"Master! Destroyers!" Auron looked over his shoulder and swore, pulling his sword out of the door and turning around as the destroyer droids unfolded into their proper shapes and began firing, each one protected by a shield that prevented any deflected energy bolts from hitting it.

"Hmph. This could be bad," Auron muttered, looking around for an escape route. His eyes lit up when he saw a large vent set into the wall a few feet above his head and he caught Baralai's eye, jerking his head toward it. Auron made quick work of the grate and stepped back, letting Baralai jump up into the ventilation shaft before following him. The two Summoners quickly put as much distance between themselves and the Bridge as possible, both thinking the same thing—this situation had gotten entirely out of hand, and they wanted to get out while they still could.

Once they stumbled upon a hangar bay, however, they discovered that the situation was even more out of control than they'd originally thought. Thousands of battle droids were being loaded onto large ground transports, and Auron and Baralai both knew this could only mean one thing.

"It's an invasion army," Baralai whispered, completely bewildered. He looked instinctively to Auron for an explanation, but Auron simply shrugged.

"This is an odd play for the Machine Faction," Auron said, a slight frown on his face. After a moment's silence, a thought suddenly occurred to Baralai.

"We have to warn them, down on Bevelle," he said, and Auron nodded in agreement.

"We'll have to get in contact with the Queen." He looked around the hangar for a moment before turning to Baralai. "We'll stow aboard separate ships and meet down on the planet."

"Okay," Baralai said, then suddenly grinned. "You know, Master," he said thoughtfully. "You were right about one thing."

Auron raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" Baralai nodded, looking slightly amused.

"There was definitely something else going on," he said, gesturing to the hangar below them. Auron simply looked at him for a second then let out an amused "hmph", turning back towards the hangar. Beckoning to his apprentice, Auron jumped down from the ventilation shaft, Baralai following a second later. With a silent look and a nod to each other the two men went off in opposite directions, sneaking aboard seperate landing crafts for the trip down to Bevelle.