The Emperor's Talon
Chapter 21: As the Jericho Flies
Outside the Jericho's trasparasteel portholes, the stars turned from blinking dots to elongated steaks of light as the interstellar cruiser jumped into hyperspace. Once again, Boba Fett sat in the pilot's seat. His bucket, or as he so often corrected people, his helmet, rested in the copilot's seat. Slade regarded the thing with ire upon his return to the cockpit.
"I see you gave my seat away," he observed flatly.
"You snooze, you lose," Boba answered with a shrug.
"Get rid of it." Slade was in no particular humor to deal with Boba at the moment.
With an unreadable grin, the younger bounty hunter shoved his armor off the seat for Slade to sit down. Once the man was seated, he couldn't help jibing him; "feeling your age, Old Man?"
"Shut up and pilot."
Boba continued to grin. "The Jericho's already flying on auto-pilot. The Nava-computer took over three minutes ago."
Slade grunted a non-acknowledgment. "How long till we reach Coruscant?"
"About 37 standard hours," Boba answered, "I propose we keep our cargo sedated until at least the few hours of the trip. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not deal with an insurrection. Speaking of which, did you secure Batman and the kid?"
"They're in the airlock service hold. If they try anything, we'll jettison them into space and retrieve their bodies after the fact," Slade answered.
"That's cold, man," said Boba with an approving smile. "But don't' they have the Force to help them out or something?"
Slade stared dispassionately down at the console readout. "Already taken care of. I put Force-inhibitor collars on them. It effectively shuts off their connection to the Force, rendering them merely human."
"Gotta' hand it to you Deathface, you really do think of everything," Boba congratulated. "Anyways, I need to use the refresher. Don't mess with the nava-computer while I'm gone."
He wasn't actually going to the refresher. He was going to check on Batman and Robin to verify Salde's claims. Slade probably knew this, but he opted to let it slide. Since their objective was now complete- their quarry being safely aboard their ship- the truce the partnership was based on was quickly becoming void. Betrayal was the way of bounty hunters. And both Slade and Boba were too well renowned as individuals to share the glory and prize money.
With this in mind, the younger bounty hunter trotted silently towards the airlock hold Slade had mentioned. He peered in through the little window in the door. So, Slade had told the truth. Batman, still unconscious, was chained to the right wall by one wrist. He was slumped in an awkward sitting position and Boba didn't envy him the crick in his neck he'd discover upon awakening. Robin, on the other hand, hadn't been chained. Instead, he had been dumped in a crate of ice. His face had become a sort of ash gray against the clear white ice. Blood slicked ice cubes floated against his injured chest. Boba shivered in a kind of sympathy; that had to suck.
Boba returned to the cockpit plotting his betrayal of Deathstroke. He smelled blood in the water. Slade, while still pompous, had taken a beating at the hands of the Talon. He'd see first hand that the kid was one powerful Force user; on par with all of the Jedi Knights he had encountered over the years, and even many of the Masters. Deathstroke was worse off than he was letting on.
Still, Boba had to be careful. Slade had proven time and time again that he was a wise old fox. Tricky and treacherous. And however more physically capable Boba might be at the moment, he had no doubt that the old bounty hunter was 12 steps ahead of them all.
The Jericho, Hyperspace: 3 days later:
The first thing Batman became aware of as he regained consciousness, was his aching neck and sore back. He discovered that he had been slumped against a wall, chained up by one wrist. A heavy metal collar was wrapped around his neck. Running his fingers up and down it confirmed his suspicions; someone had put a Force inhibitor collar on him. They had also taken his utility belt, weapons, and boots. A prisoner then. Boba had somehow managed to beat him after all. He forced his eyes open. The world spun but he made himself focus. Slowly but surely, his eyes and mind sharpened and he was able to take in his surroundings.
His heart sank. The white walls, bright overheads and warnings lights, and the oversized airlock door indicated that he was being held in the service hold- a kind of limbo between the ship and space. Across from him, was a small coffin shaped crate full of slowly melting ice. Frigid water dripped down the sides of the crate along with something vaguely red. Could it be…blood?
Batman felt his stomach churn. He shifted himself upwards onto his knees in order to peer over the lip of the crate. And if he hadn't felt nauseous before, he did now. Dick had been placed inside the crate and then covered in ice. Blood oozed slowly into the icy water from a deep stab wound just under his ribcage. A thick corrugated-edged knife stuck vertically out of the wound; the blade blackening with congealed blood. The boy's face was deathly colorless, and Batman couldn't help but notice the pale silvery veins start to work their way back onto his cheeks.
"Robin?" he called tentatively, "Robin, wake up."
Nothing.
"Robin?"
Still, dead silence. Batman tested the length of his chain. If he strained against it hard enough to let the iron bite into his flesh, he could hook the fingers of his other hand around the lip of the crate. He dragged the whole monstrous casket closer to himself with one hand. The jostling upset the balance of the contents, spilling icy water and blood onto the floor.
Batman wracked his brain, trying to remember everything he had ever read on the Talon. Cold. The Talon couldn't regenerate in low temperatures. Which meant that Batman had to get him out of the ice before the kid would respond to anything.
Still using one hand, Batman hauled Robin's limp body out of the crate, spilling more melted ice than he intended in the process. Robin flopped ungracefully to the floor of their makeshift cell in a boneless heap. Batman pulled Robin into his lap and pealed the mask away from the pale face. Thick black lashed lay flat and unmoving against snowy cheeks. Batman pressed two fingers to the child's neck.
No pulse.
Robin was dead.
Batman's fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the knife from Robin's bloodied torso and let it clatter to the ground. He held Robin closer to his chest hoping his own body heat would eventually bring the boy back to life. Legends from the Court of Owls claimed that the Talons were essentially the walking dead; people murdered by the court and brought back to life with a regenerating serum to serve their killers. Thus, under the right circumstances, they could jump between life and death as if crossing some magic rainbow bridge. And while this was neither a good thing nor comforting, Batman needed his Robin to reawaken.
For what felt like hours upon hours Batman sat cradling Robin in his arms, waiting patiently for life to return to the small broken body in his lap. He was beginning to doubt the legends. Maybe this was it. Maybe neither Robin nor the Talon were coming back. Wake up, Dick, he pleaded silently. He was about to set the body aside and let himself grieve, when something started happening.
At first, he doubted his eyes. But sure enough, the ice on the floor began to levitate. Water droplets still forming on the outside of the crate began to fall upwards. And though the inhibitor collar around his neck prevented him from feeling the Force around him, he could see it. He looked down at Robin. Not much had changed about his physical appearance, but he was awakening.
Robin gasped, and bright amber eyes flew open. The ice plummeted back to the floor.
"Robin?" asked Batman cradling the boy's icy cheek in his hands. It remined him too much of their first meeting by the wall that snowy January night. Unfortunately, yellow eyes indicated he was looking at the Emperor's little Talon. And he wanted so desperately know that Robin had survived death. He was certain the Talon would.
"Batman?" croaked the boy in his arms.
"I'm here."
"Where are we?" Wha…what happened?"
"We're in the service hold airlock of a star cruiser."
The boy, Dick- because Batman didn't know who he was at the moment- trailed his fingers along the stab wound in his side and then along the collar around his neck. "Prisoners?" he asked.
"For the time being," Batman allowed.
Dick laughed a little at that. His eyes flickered a few times. Batman stared down at him.
"You felt what I did back at Wayne Tech," Dick stated, "the anger, the fear, the darkness."
"Yes."
"You're wondering if I went Talon on you and killed Deathstroke."
Batman didn't say anything.
"If it's any consolation, I didn't. I wanted to, but I didn't. As long as Boba Fett hasn't gotten to him yet, that scumbag lives to kill another day." Dick opened his eyes again. Blue and gold swirled in his irises, each battling for control. Robin versus Talon. Two masked beings battling inside Dick Grayson.
Batman watched the internal confliction play out in Dick's eyes. It was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. "I won't lie to you, Dick. I'm relieved."
Dick gave him a tired smirk. "Glad you're not brooding over where you could have messed up training me?"
"No. I'm glad the hope and goodness you fought for is still inside you," Batman answered.
"Well, that's nice to know," quipped Dick, "help me sit up?"
Batman gently levered Dick into a siting position. He held the back of the boy's neck, supporting his head, as Dick threatened to black out on him. It appeared Dick didn't have any strength left in him. The child slumped forward slightly against Batman's shoulder.
"How do you feel?" Batman asked concerned.
"Like I just came back from the dead," Dick answered with a slightly disturbing smirk.
Batman winced. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you can get this damned collar off me."
"Negative," answered Batman apologetically. But it did give him a perfect Segway into the question that had been plaguing his detective's mind since before Dick's eyes even opened. "I'm not sure you need me to take it off for you. I saw the Force gather around you despite your collar. How?"
Dick ran a shaky hand though his ice damp hair. "You know how the Jedi teach that when you die, you become one with the Force?"
Batman nodded.
"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." Dick looked unsure of himself for a moment. "Does that make any sense?"
The wheels of Batman's mind were turning at the speed of light. "Who else knows about this?"
"Darth Vader."
"That's it?" Batman raised an eyebrow, "not even the Emperor or the Court of Owls?"
"No. Vader was the one who figured out what was happening to me. It was our most closely guarded secret." At Batman's silent urging, Dick continued, "Vader needed an ace in the hole if Emperor Palpatine tried to betray him again. I was going to be his 'Ace'. As for the Court, they'd never taken in a Force sensitive Talon before. At first, they were intrigued by my power; after I lost control, the feared it."
"What do you think of it?" prodded Batman.
Big amber and blue eyes stared up at him from the small boy tucked against his side. "It scares me a little," Dick admitted. "I know it's going to be the death of me. But until that happens, I know I can use it for something good. Maybe even something incredible."
Batman never pulled off his cowl, but suddenly it was Bruce Wayne sitting there in that cell with Dick Grayson. He tightened his arm around the boy he'd taken under his wing. "You will. Many choose to be good, but some are destined to be great."
No more words needed to pass between them. They were dangerously close to that sentimental honesty and love Batman had always shied away from. Dick's eyes finally cleared to that beautiful deep blue Bruce loved so well. The boy smiled at him with a genuinely heart-melting smile. The sunshine was back, if just for a moment.
The Jericho, Cockpit:
Slade Wilson kept his eyes glued to the security monitors as they received feed-back from cameras in the airlock compartment. After three days of space travel without any trouble form Boba or the sedated Dynamic Duo, Slade was more wary than ever. His hand remained inches away from the button that would jettison Batman and Robin into space. If they tried anything, he'd kill them both instantly.
Slade had allowed Batman to drag his little protégé out of the icy crypt he'd been smart enough to put him in. He watched with dispassionate predatory eyes as Batman held the boy close to his chest. And she saw the ice lift into the air by the power of the Force, despite the inhibitor collars he had set around their necks. Interesting.
Hand that kid- that raw power- back the emperor? Well, temporarily. Slade smirked. His majesty could have Batman. The Talon was his.
Footsteps entered the cockpit behind him. "Keeping an eye on the prize?" asked Boba. His voice was filtered. Wearing his helmet then.
"I am."
"We should be exiting hyperspace soon."
"Yes." Slade swiveled his chair around slowly to face his associate. "And now it begins."
"We don't have to fight," offered Boba, but his body language- hands twitching near his blasters- said otherwise.
Now Deathstroke was facing him full on. "I don't intend too."
The cockpit console beeped. Elongated stars flashed outside the viewport as the Jericho exited hyperspace. Coruscant, home to the Imperial Palace, loomed huge out in space. They're journey together had come to an end.
Slade moved. Boba fired at the chair he'd been sitting in, but Deathstroke was no longer there. He had made a dash for the escape pod. The small craft shot towards the capital and Boba watched it from the cockpit. The young bounty hunter should have congratulated himself on this turn of events, but a knot had formed in his stomach. Slade was 12 steps ahead. He was sure of it. The man always played his own games.
The Jericho, airlock chamber:
"We need a plan, ASAP. As in, things are really, really bad right now," stated Robin.
Batman quirked an eyebrow behind his cowl. "What tipped you off?"
"Oh haha," Robin deadpanned. Then in all seriousness he added, "Fett and Deathstroke must have kept us sedated for approximately 35 hours; long enough to get to Coruscant."
Batman strained against his chain to follow Robin's gaze out the viewport. Sure enough, he saw the capital planet in the near distance. Damn. This was bad. He was sure they'd have more time than that. Not that he could stage anything from inside the airlock, Boba or Slade could kill them both instantly if they so much as moved the wrong muscle, but he thought he'd have a chance to at least come up with a contingency plan.
"Bats?" called Robin, dragging him out of his stunned brooding.
"Where are they likely to take us?" he demanded, snapping back in business mode.
"The Imperial Palace," answered Robin, "the Emperor wants to greet us personally I'll wager."
"The Imperial Palace," Batman mumbled, "that's the old Jedi Temple. I used to live there as a padawan."
"Funny. I lived there as a slave." Dick's face had become disconcertingly haunted and blank.
But they didn't have time to deal with their demons. The Jericho was steadily approaching the planet's surface. Time was running short. Any plan they could come up with now would be implausible at best and fatal at worst.
Batman pulled back his cowl and looked Robin in the eyes. "How well do you know that palace?"
"Well enough," answered Robin.
"Do you know the air vent system?"
Robin cocked his head. "Oddly specific, but yes."
"If we get the chance, run. Don't wait for me. Go through the vents and get outside. Wait for me in the old Limeridge factory in The Works. If I don't show up with three days, get yourself off world. Don't stop running for anything. You got that?"
"You do know that's not a plan, right?" answered Robin with ill-placed wry amusement.
"We don't get a plan. Not this time," said Batman darkly.
"You're the Batman. Don't you carry around contingency plans or dooms-day protocols in your back pocket?"
"Apparently not. Our only chance is that you can use the Force through the inhibitors and maybe deactivate them."
Robin looked decidedly unimpressed. "You don't have something more surefire, like let's say…an EMP in your gauntlets?"
"No."
Robin sighed. "We are so screwed."
Meanwhile, the Jericho angled down towards the planet. Coruscant, Capital of the Galactic Empire, could only be described as a lifeless jungle of strictly regimented towers and skyscrapers. The orbital mirrors which brought light and warmth to the planet from its distant sun shone with a fresh coat of polish; the evidence of efficiency and underpaid labor.
Batman and Robin watched helplessly through the airlock viewport as Boba guided the ship towards a landing pad atop the central spire of what had once been the Jedi Temple. When the dust settled, they could hear the rhythmic sound of armored boots circling the ship or clattering up the gangplank. Storm Troopers. Moments later, the airlock hatch cycled open and white clad men scrambled forward; each trooper eager to be the one to take custody of the Emperor's prize.
"Move it," ordered one trooper as he hauled Robin to his feet.
Robin glared up at him, "nice to see you again too, Bucket-head 323," he greeted.
"You have no authority here anymore, Talon," the trooper sneered, "not much of a loss though. I always hated you."
"Well the feeling was mutual," Robin retorted, "cleaning up after your company's blunders was never much fun."
323 snorted as he clapped electro-binders onto Robin's wrist, "still an arrogant whelp, I see."
"And you still have the charm of a seasick Sith Lord," responded Robin quickly.
"Shut up!" hissed the trooper. He roughly shoved Robin through the airlock's small hatch.
"What? Are you saying Sith Lords, seasick or otherwise, aren't charming? I'm telling Vader you didn't think that was a compliment," Robin quipped.
"I said…" 323 punched Robin in the stomach, "…shut up."
Behind them, Batman was escorted out of the airlock hold by two other troopers. He glared down at Robin as they passed. "We're in enough trouble as it is," he reminded his sharp-witted protégé, "try not to antagonize them."
Robin wheezed as 323 pulled him back to his feet and propelled him forwards down the Jericho's gangplank. "But…it's so easy."
"He's right you know," said Boba Fett stepping out of the shadows on the far side of the ship, "no need to make things more difficult for yourself." The bounty hunter holstered the blaster in his right hand before turning his attention to the swarm of Storm Troopers the Emperor had sent to assist him. "And you quacks in white better get a move on. I wanna' get out of here before my hair turns gray."
Imperial Palace, the Audience Chamber:
The audience chamber of the Imperial Palace had once belonged to the high council of the Jedi Order. After Order 66 the rotunda had been restored, if not to its former glory, then into a much more functional shrine to the Dark Side. As befitted its current occupant, Darth Sidious. Ghosts of dead Jedi still haunted the room, unable to move on into the vortex of the Force, yet unable to do anything to prevent the changes Palpatine made around them. Their souls were forever entombed in the temple they had tried so hard to save. Such befitting irony really.
Emperor Palpatine himself sat enthroned in darkness, shrouded within the depths of hatred and deceit. Beside him stood Darth Vader, arms folded over his chest, staring listlessly through the mask as if by doing so he could pierce through the fabric of time and space.
"My Talon has returned to us," said the Emperor softly.
"I feel it also master," Vader agreed. He was actually thinking something along the lines, thanks Captain Obvious. But since no one called Palatine Captain Oblivious and lived, he refrained.
"He has changed. There is so much more raw power inside him. I can feel it." The Emperor leaned further back into his throne. He closed his eyes, drinking in the Force and the Dark Side around him. Such power. And it was all waiting to be broken and bridled. A please smile crossed his face; a smile which, under other circumstances on another face, one might mistake for daydreams of Pina Coladas on a tropical beach.
"I agree that Talon has grown stronger in the Force," Vader allowed, "although I fear his will and resolve may also have grown in strength. He may be harder to break than you anticipate."
Palpatine, in a good humor at the moment, opted not to fry Vader on the spot for that comment. Instead, he waved his hand dismissively. "That is your problem apprentice. You will break him, or I will break both of you. Am I understood?"
"Yes master."
"Good," said Palpatine offhandedly, "Talon is weak and hopeless right now. He's had a taste of freedom only to be brought back to us in chains. He will lose the spark of insurrection in time. Beings can only take so much before they crack. And then there is the matter of the Batman."
"What of the Batman?" Vader asked at the risk of getting a jolt of Force lightning to the face.
"You will unmask and execute the Batman over the Holonet, of course," answered Palpatine as if Vader was a childish fool for thinking anything else. "His death will serve two purposes. It will rid the Empire of self-proclaimed heroes and serve as a warning to any who would follow in his footsteps. And secondly, his death will help tip Talon over the edge and unleash the rage and Darkness he keeps locked away from us."
"Of course, my master."
Imperial Palace, Landing Pad:
The Storm Troopers led Batman and Robin from the conning spire's landing pad down a low-ceilinged corridor. At the end of the passage, the procession filed down a claustrophobic staircase and out into the Imperial reception hall which was reserved for guests, misters of state, and apparently, important prisoners. Tall pillars lined the large rectangular room reaching though the high vaulted ceiling. At the back end stood a bronzium statue of Palpatine; the only semblance of décor in the otherwise spartan hall.
Dick Grayson felt his heart pounding and bile rose in his throat. Even with the Force inhibitor collar around his neck, he could feel the darkness surrounding him. He could feel Palpatine's slimy festering Force signature and Vader's all-consuming presence behind the doors leading to the audience chamber. They were making him wait. Letting him squirm. Giving his fear and hatred a chance to overcome him.
There you go again, a familiar voice whispered in his ear, pretending I don't exist. Pretending I'm not a part of you.
"Shut up," Dick hissed.
But the Dark only laughed. Oh please! Stow this pointless heroism. You know what I can do for you. After all, you let me help you fight Deathstroke, remember?
"And look how that turned out," Dick snapped. "I almost brought down the whole tower! …I almost killed everyone!"
I know, the Dark breathed, magnificent isn't it? You and Darth Vader have a lot in common.
"I'm nothing like him!" Dick declared.
Oh but you are…pain and fear make you what you are, just like him. And like him, you will fall to your rage. Like him, you will serve. You will bow.
Instead of answering the Dark, Dick tried again to banish it from his mind. But even as he pushed fear and hopelessness down into the pit of his heart and chained them there, his knees buckled. The Troopers on either side of him tightened their grip on his arms, forcing Dick to maintain his footing.
Then the doors to the audience chamber opened. A man, a general probably, walked through and assumed a commanding posture. "The Emperor will see you now."
Author's Note: And hello from Budapest. Hopefully this is all making sense so far. For those of you keeping track, the meeting between Talon and Darth Vader was originally going to be on Mustufar, however that has been retconned. Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think and stay tuned.