The Emperor's Talon: Journey to Exegal
Prelude
In a Galaxy Far, Far Away…
Five years ago, Dick Grayson escaped from Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader, and his life as an enslaved Talon assassin. He joined forces with former Jedi, Bruce Wayne—known colloquially as the Batman—in Gotham, the capital city of the planet Avoline. He took on a new identity as Robin and turned his back on the ways of the Sith. The two have since become an urban crimefighting legend despite Palpatine's attempts to brand them as traitors to all free people of the galaxy.
Now Batman and Robin are engaged in a battle with Penguin, a local Gotham crime lord, in orbit around the planet Avoline. Meanwhile, Dick's friend Jason Todd has taken a job in the illegal spice trade as a smuggler between Avoline and Hutt space, and is on his way home with contraband cargo.
Unbeknownst to all parties, Deathstroke is also ready to return to Gotham for the Talon, determined to make good on his investment.
Chapter 1: Out of Gravity
"Robin, status report," demanded Batman.
In the Batwing cockpit, Robin tapped his headset microphone a few times. "I can't…zerr….on my way…shuurr, zzzz…you're breaking up."
"You're just making hissing sounds," Batman pointed out.
Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine, I miscalculated the trajectory angle to your coordinates from the warehouse. I ran into Penguin's tracer mines above Bludhaven."
"You what?!"
"Don't get your bat-boxers in a knot. I'll be there in two."
Batman growled. "You'd better be. And I don't wear 'bat-boxers'; they don't fit under the suit. I have…"
"Please don't ever finish that thought."
Robin punched the throttle on the Batwing and barrel-rolled to starboard. Over his headset, he vaguely thought he heard Batman mutter "teenagers" under his breath, but he was too preoccupied to come up with a retort. Instead, Robin focused his attention on piloting the Batwing through Avolrine's orbital space at top speed. Normally, he would multitask; quip and fly. But, being trailed by a swarm of penguin shaped tracer mines from the planet's upper atmosphere, he thought better of it. For the moment, anyway.
Growing in the distance up ahead was the Penguin's flagship where Batman was trying to stop the crime lord from taking off with a few million credit's worth of ammunition. Nice ship, Robin thought. And they say crime doesn't pay.
"Ace," Robin switched communication channels to the yellow and white astromech droid docked into the Batwing's right foil, "can you get a read on the Penguin's ship."
Ace let out a string of beeps and warbles; a translation of which spidered across Robin's cockpit readout. "You'll have to be more specific."
Robin frowned. "Scan the ship's shield generator. Is it still offline?"
"Negative," another warble, "see, was that so hard?"
"Who programmed you," Robin grunted, "to sass me?". He jerked the ship to port away from a tracer mine coming up on his wing.
"You did," Ace answered, "karma's a bitch."
Robin growled. "You're spare parts when we get back."
About 30 of the tracer mines were beginning to overtake him—now locked on to the Batwing's long nose—and Robin was compelled to reach into the Force to guide the ship out of the herd. He cut power to the engine so that the ones in front overshot him, then second's before colliding with the ones still locked onto his tail, engaged thrusters and dipped under the swarm. Some of the mines collided with each other and exploded. The others stubbornly rebooted their auto targeting system and locked onto the Batwing's tail for the second time.
"Robin, hurry it up. They've fixed the nava-computer and the Penguin is about to jump into hyperspace," Batman's voice crackled over his headset.
"Just get clear of the aft docking bay," said Robin. "I'm bringing the fireworks to you."
"You're bringing the tracer mines to me aren't you," said Batman. Whether or not he was displeased was open to interpretation. Or so Robin chose to take it.
"I'm gonna light up the century," Robin agreed. He turned to the droid, "Ace, give me a visual on the hyperdrive chasse." A 3D scan of the ship's schematics appeared on the readout. "Bingo."
Ace let out a long garbled scream as Robin pushed the thrusters into overdrive and careened straight for the Penguin's massive Venator Class armored yacht. The tracer mines stayed right on his tail. A message from Ace flashed on the readout. "Abort. Abort. Abort."
Robin grinned. "Not a chance."
The Batwing shot unerringly towards the yacht, never deviating from its predetermined path towards the hyperdrive chasse. Robin reached into the Force for guidance. He closed his eyes and saw the approaching ship without human sight. He counted backwards from three, then at the last possible second before crashing headlong into the Penguin's yacht, pulled up on the control yoke and shot up the aft conning spire. The belly of the Batwing was less than a meter away from the yacht in passing. The tracer mines—lacking sufficiently complex piloting algorithms—were not as lucky. The entire swarm kamikazed the ship's hyperdrive.
Alarm klaxons sounded on the ship. Smoke and fire erupted from the demolished hyperdrive generator and the ship came almost to a standstill. Robin made a quick hairpin turnabout and came down the back end of the ship intent on knocking out the sub-light drive engines before it could get out of Avoline's orbit and into open space. He took out the port engine and was on to the second in a matter of seconds.
Things might have gone as planned had it not been for the Penguin's frantic bridge crew diverting all power to the remaining sub-light and pushing the engine past its capacity in the hope of breaking orbit. On her way past, the Batwing was caught in the backwash from the sub-light drive and hurtled on a skewed trajectory into a gun turret. Robin sensed that danger in the Force only soon enough to pull back on the control yoke and prevent the small craft from being completely crushed. As it was, the Batwing hit the yacht hard enough to crack the cockpit canopy.
Warning lights flicked to life on the dashboard. A message from ace appeared on the readout. "Cockpit depressurizing. Advise immediate landing."
"Great. Just great," muttered Robin, "hang on Ace, were gonna head for the docking bay."
Again, things might have worked had the last sub-light engine not overloaded and exploded outwards. Now the entire back end of the ship was engulfed in smoke and superheated gasses. The docking bay shield generator deactivated in the explosion. Everyone and everything in it were sucked out into space as the place lost air-pressure.
Robin flew in anyways. A less skilled pilot would not have been able to maneuver a half-crippled ship through the torrent of debris from the docking bay in against the air current. But he managed it somehow. Robin guided the Batwing into a slide along the docking bay floor in behind a sturdy garage wall just as the cockpit completely shattered outward into space.
By all rights he should be dead. Being a Force sensitive ex-Talon had its perks. If one could call retaining consciousness through two collapsed lungs a perk. Immaterial, Darth Vader would have said. Robin hardly cared. He reached for the lightsaber hilt on his left hip as he disentangled himself from the Batwing's harness and toppled over the side. Braced against the garage wall, he reached into the Force and threw the lightsaber pommel on a curved trajectory toward the emergency blast door activation panel on the other side of the docking bay. The butt end of the weapon hit the button and the great durrasteel doors began to close.
The doors closed with a clang to which he was perfectly deaf, and the docking bay life support system rebooted itself. Collapsed on the floor, Robin decided to take a short nap.
The Bridge:
Batman stood on the bridge of the Penguin's flagship amidst the unconscious or cringing crew members like a perpetually menacing statue that blinked on occasion. Beside him sat the Penguin himself, in chains. The old crime lord looked subdued. Batman had foiled his last-ditch attempt to abandon ship in a modified escape pod and dragged his hide back to the bridge to face justice. For his part, Batman was rather pleased with how the series events had taken place, even if he thought blowing up the entire aft of the ship was a little overkill.
The Dark Knight had been in dire straights for a while there. Not only did he have to take down an entire ship's crew single handed, but he also had to prevent the ship from leaving Avoline's orbit, thereby saving neighboring system's from more armed criminal activities. He had left Robin behind in Gotham to rescue the Penguin's hostages from a rigged warehouse on the wharf. And as far as he knew, they were all perfectly safe now. The only complication in a job well done was the boy running into the tracer mines over Bludhaven.
All in all, Batman was satisfied with the mission. Even as the Penguin spewed the occasional nonsensical threat, he reveled in post-battle thrills.
He turned as the bridge doors slid open and Ace, Robin's favorite astromech droid, rolled in at top speed, beeping and warbling in all but unintelligible droid.
"Ace, contact Commissioner Gordon and have him send a transport to pick up the trash," Batman instructed.
Ace beeped in response. While he didn't understand the words, the droid sounded irritated.
"Don't sass me Ace," Batman growled, "I have enough knowhow to have you disassembled in five minutes flat."
Another angry beep.
"I don't care what you're saying. Just get Gordon up here…wait," Batman paused, "where's Robin?"
Ace went wild.
Batman growled. The aft docking bay. He should have known. "Stay here and guard them," he instructed as he swept off the bridge, "and make that call."
Batman strode down the various halls and corridors towards the docking bay. Of all the reckless, stupid stunts to pull, Robin would pilot himself into a depressurized docking bay. As he reached the aft end of the ship, the halls began to get darker, illuminated only by blue emergency lights along the floor and the flashing red alert strobes. Smoke and small fires burned in the corners. He smelled gas. Robin, what did you do?
He took the turbolift down to the docking bay. When the doors opened, he was almost taken back by the prevenient destruction around him. The only saving grace here was that the bay way empty of just about everything save whatever had been caught in behind walls or trapped in corners when the place was exposed to the vacuum of space.
"Robin," he called even as he strode into the docking bay.
"Over here boss," shouted a horse voice.
Batman moved with purpose towards the voice. Ahead, slammed up against a docking garage wall, was the crumpled remains of the Batwing. Robin was sitting beside it in a slight daze just starring up and grinning strangely.
"Are you OK?" Batman demanded as he crouched in front of his protégé.
Robin gazed up at him. "A-okay boss. How are you?" He coughed into his elbow and wiped a smear of blood from his lips with the back of his hand.
"Better than you," Batman answered. He wanted to go into a lecture—actually he wanted to yell at his reckless apprentice—but he kept his emotions in check. "Come on, we can't leave Ace alone on the bridge."
"Ace needs to be reprogrammed. Again," said Robin.
Batman just grunted. He slid an arm under and behind Robin's back and helped heave the boy to his feet by his armpits. Robin groaned but otherwise remained silent. The Talon serum would finish healing whatever new damage the kid had done to himself, but in the meantime, Batman kept his peace as he hauled his loopy apprentice out of the docking bay. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Robin's lightsaber rolling around on the bay floor. With a longsuffering growl, he called the abandon weapon to his hand with the Force.
Fifteen standard minutes later, civilian police commissioner Jim Gordon arrived with Chief O'Hara and a prisoner transport shuttle.
"Thanks again Batman," said Gordon as the police took the Penguin and his crew into custody.
Batman acknowledged the man with a grunt.
"He means 'you're welcome'," Robin translated. In the fifteen minutes since Batman had hauled him up to the bridge, he'd recovered enough to sound like his usual self again. And as most teenagers would do, was making a show of nonchalance by spinning lazily in the Penguin's captain's seat on the upper deck of the bridge.
Gordon couldn't help the small smile the quirked at the edge of his lips. The man had grown to like the former Talon over the past five years. And despite the Emperor sanctioning the Dynamic Duo—as they had come to known—as imperial law enforcement agents, he trusted the kid. Batman too. Pity the rest of Gotham hadn't come so far. Nor the police, if O'Hara's sideways glances and suspicious scowls were anything to go by.
"We'll take him downtown for processing," Gordon told Batman.
Another grunt.
"Do you know where Penguin got all that amo?"
Batman finally elected to use his words. "Low level gun runners out of Bludhaven. They had cases of the stuff brought into Jump City from Zantax 5 and transported into the haven by jet. Penguin bought it dirt cheap compared to what he was going to sell it for on Alderaan."
"I see," said Gordon, "are you…?
"I'm tracking the gun runners," Batman interrupted, "I'll give you the intel on Penguin before the trial."
"That's a relief," said Gordon, "I want to thank you on behalf of Gotham, since, you know, they don't always appreciate the good you do."
"The city owes me nothing. I came to terms with that years ago," said Batman, "however,
and here he winced, "if the city can, I need a ship out of here."
Gordon just stared at Batman without comprehension for a few seconds. Batman stared back. Finally, Gordon broke the silence. "What happened to the Batwing?"
"My apprentice happened," Batman deadpanned.
"It blew up," Robin clarified.
Gordon frowned in confusion but had learned by now not to ask too many questions. "Right," he said instead, "you can take my Torppel."
The Outlaw:
The Outlaw was a relatively small Python Class Correlian blockade runner. The body was rounded like a dreadnaught but unclosed. She looked almost like a horseshoe with a protruding forward cockpit between the two ends. She was banged up and patched together, in places with literal duct tape, and a general eye sore. Still, she was relatively reliable for clandestine smuggling operations from Correlia and Naul Hutta; which worked out because that's what her crew did best.
As the ship sailed into Avoline's orbit, the pilot—a certain Lando Cutzer—called over his shoulder; "Hey kid, where'd ya put those credentials?"
"They're in the upper storage unit," 15-year-old Jason Todd called back from the storage hold.
"Where? I can't find 'em?" said Lando as he halfheartedly rummaged the storage unit.
A voice hailing the ship from Gotham's air traffic control tower broke into the conversation over the radio. "Correllian Blockade Runner 6-8-4-2, please identify yourself."
Without a word, Jason pulled the stolen identification chip out of the storage unit and handed it to Lando who answered the radio. "Gotham City, this is Captain Lando Cutzer on the Correllian Blockade Runner requesting permission to land. I'm sending you all our credentials now."
After a few minutes of waiting, the air traffic controller responded. "Captain Cutzer, you are clear to land in Gotham. Here is your flight path. Do not deviate."
"Thank you ever so kindly," said Lando before switching off the radio. "Well, Jason," he said turning in his seat, "welcome home."
Gotham City, Avoline, The Bat Cave:
"It was reckless, Dick!" Bruce shouted.
"I made a mistake!" Dick shouted back, "I'm sorry, but it happens."
"You don't get to make those kinds of mistakes," Bruce countered, "you can't make mistakes with your life. I don't care if being a Talon brings you back from the dead, we both know one day you won't come back. You're not like the other Talons, Dick, you told me yourself."
"I know! I'm sorry!"
"Force damnit, Dick! You're not invincible! You're not a soldier, you're a teenager. One who should be in school and making the most of his life—living it to the fullest—and what do you do? You go out and get yourself killed!"
"From a certain point of view," said Dick. He pretended to inspect his very alive looking hands, cheeky as ever. "I mean, I am still as alive as anyone murder as a kid can be."
"You're still not…" Bruce shouted. He turned abruptly, "that's it! I'm grounding Robin. No more patrols, no more Batcave, no more training, nothing. Robin is grounded until further notice."
"Can you actually do that?" said Dick. He cocked his head, an indication his Talon instincts and analytical thought processes were kicking in.
"Yes. It's already done," said Bruce. He reached over and pressed the intercom, "Alfred, will you come down to the cave for a minute please."
"Oh, so I free those hostages and take the Penguin's ship out of commission; and my reward is getting grounded?" Dick demanded.
"Robin is grounded," said Bruce, "Dick Grayson is not, unless you continue to talk to with that tone of voice."
Dick's face broke into an unexpected smile considering the heat of their argument. "You totally just pulled the ultimate dad card."
"I did not!" Bruce snapped, fully aware that he sounded as petty and immature as the teenager in front of him. "And you're not grounded for getting the mission done. You're grounded for being reckless beyond what the situation called for." He ran a tired hand down his face, "I want…I want you to go live your life to the fullest."
"Well I think living life to the fullest means finding the wisdom to live it well," said Dick. He rested his forearms on the computer deck's railing and looked out over the lover level of the Batcave. "You remember when you took me? I was a 12-year-old kid with big problems and even bigger dreams?"
"And a big mouth," Bruce grunted.
Dick huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Have I changed that much?" It was a rhetorical question.
Bruce knew he didn't have to answer, but the words came without thought. "No. Not so much."
"Yeah." Now Dick looked up; eyes as clear a blue as he had ever seen, devoid of any Talon gold, which even years later was rare. "Bruce, I've still got that thing inside me, I can't explain it, but it's that thing that makes me have to fight. Maybe it's what the Court of Owls did to me. Maybe it was Vader. But maybe it's just…me. The Force made me. The Court did their thing. And the Sith did their thing. But more than all of that it, was the Force and me that made this weapon. That's what I am, Bruce. I'm a weapon."
"You were the one that told me, we are what we chose to be," Bruce said, "so make better decisions or I will make them for you. And don't try to tell me I can't, because I am your legal guardian and there is not a court in the Galaxy that wouldn't agree that I should keep my…you out of danger."
"I'm not in any danger," said Dick, "Darth Vader and the Emperor have given up on us—well, sort of—and without a bounty on my head, Deathstroke and Fett are out of the picture."
"That's not the danger I meant, and you know it," Bruce gritted out, "you're the greatest danger to yourself now. And that's something…it's something I can't protect you from."
And it was true.
Bruce feared very little. Life had taught him that things—people especially—will come and go. What the Force gives, so it takes away. For himself, he feared neither life nor death. And with all that could befall himself, he had made his peace long before he had taken up the mantle of Batman. As a Jedi padawan before the end of the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire, he had foresworn attachment to all the world would give him. Or so he had tried to convince himself.
In truth, Bruce was very much afraid. And while he had sworn to protect all life, there were two live in particular he would give his own soul to save. Alfred and Dick meant the world to him. The one as a father; the other as a son. He would lose Alfred to old age at some point. But Dick? The boy could be immortal. Except, for whatever reason, Dick had chosen another path.
A Talon—an ordinary Talon—could be resurrected infinity. An ordinary would be practically immortal unless dispatched in a particularly effective way. But Dick was not an ordinary Talon. Far from it; he was so much more.
When the court decided to experiment and mold their next Talon from a Force sensitive child, they could not have foreseen the implications. Dick Grayson, a 17-year-old boy, was quickly becoming the most powerful individual combatant in the Galaxy because some people in white masks had decided to experiment. And yet it was that power in the Force—the potential he had to gain more power—that would be his end.
"You know how the Jedi teach that when you die, you become one with the Force? Well, every time I die, I become one with the Force. When the Talon serum brings me back, I bring back more of the Force, if you will. It's like I live between the tangible world and the intangible Force; and by dying and shifting planes, I get constantly closer to the edge of reality where the Force and I are one."
Those words haunted Bruce every time he watched Dick come back from some grave injury. Because one day, he wouldn't come back. True, every death he died made him more powerful, and thereby perhaps safer, but the knowledge that a child who should never have to die would chose to become one with the Force was more than Bruce could bare.
"Bruce," said Dick shaking him out of his thoughts, "you're brooding."
"I'm thinking," Bruce corrected.
"No, you're brooding. I was studying your technique until I got bored."
"Hilarious," Bruce deadpanned, "you're also twice grounded."
"What!" cried Dick, "for being an observant student?"
"If only that were true," Bruce sighed. He pushed his darkest thoughts and fears out of his mind. Dick would be reckless, but there was time. He was still young and anything that might arise from his reckless nature was a long way off.
"Hey," said Dick bumping up beside him with his lean shoulders, "I know what you're thinking. I don't have a death-wish. I just think some things are more important than staying safe. If there's something I can do to make the world a better place, I have to do it. No matter the cost. Besides, what's the point of living forever if I'm the only one? I want a normal life, so to me, every life I save while I can is worth every minute of this borrowed life I have to live."
"You take your Jedi training very seriously," said Bruce. His habitual scowl deepened. "Too serious."
"That's something I never thought I'd hear you say. But…"Dick spread his hands, "here I stand. I can do nothing else."
"Famous last words, I assure you, Master Dick," said Alfred walking into the cave, "you called for me, Master Bruce?"
"Yes," said Bruce, "Robin is grounded. Indefinitely." He glared sideways as Dick, who maturely poked out his tongue.
"Very good sir," said Alfred, "I shall see to it everything is locked up for safe keeping. I trust you will not cross me Master Dick."
"Fine," said Dick.
Alfred nodded. "I thought not."
"There's just one person I have to see first," said Dick, looking at the konometer on his wrist, "his ship just landed. I'll hand myself over later. Bye!" Dick launched himself off the upper deck, up though the hatched exit above their heads, and out of sight.
Bruce only sighed. "See to it that he's thrice grounded, will you Alfred? I'm going to bed."
"Very good sir."
Author's Note: This chapter is pretty long because I'm trying to start the sequel book to The Emperor's Talon in such a way that the story is possible to follow even if you haven't read the first one. Don't know how I'm doing at that. I Tend to forget that people aren't actually mind readers and don't know what I'm thinking.