Episode 4 Chapter 7
Thanks as always to my Beta's Fallenstar2 And Winterd. See the disclaimer in Chapter 1
Chapter 7
Mothers and Daughters
Death Star
"Have you gotten anything from the Senator, Lord Vader?"
Darth Vader stood at ease, his arms behind his back, his silver hair tied neatly behind his head. "Her resistance to the mind probes was formidable. It will be some time before we can extract any useful information from her."
Admiral Mottiwalked over to Tarkin and saluted sharply.
"Sir, all systems are operational. What course should we set?"
"Perhaps we should use an alternative form of persuasion on the good Senator?" Halcyon said from behind Vader. "A demonstration of this station's power would be a good start - maybe a visit to her Homeworld?"
"No, the Emperor would never stand to let anything happen to his own Homeworld," Vader interrupted. "But perhaps if her Senatorial seat were put on the block?"
Tarkin smiled evilly and nodded. "Very good." He turned to Motti. "You may set your course for Alderaan."
"So, you get a ship?"
Buffy and the droids met up with Obi-Wan and the rest, and the group headed for the space dock. Obi-Wan shot a worried glance at Buffy before replying.
"Yes - and apparently it's the Millennium Falcon."
Buffy's steps faltered at that, but she quickly recovered. "No. No way that old bucket is still flying after twenty years."
"There's more," Obi-Wan said as they entered the docks and headed down the corridor towards 94. "Buffy, back on Corellia, when Traya ordered the attack on your family - are you sure everyone was killed?"
Buffy's eyes narrowed under her hood. "Just what kind of question is that, Ben?" she growled. "I quite clearly remember my husbands broken and lifeless body pinned under the rubble of our home."
"And your children?"
"They were home at the time, Ben. They were killed when the building collapsed."
"You're sure?" Ben persisted. Buffy sighed in exasperation.
"Well, I couldn't sense either of them, so I'd say yes…"
"What a piece of junk!"
Buffy was brought up short by the sight in front of her. Despite the improbability of it, there in front of her sat the Millennium Falcon, looking dirtier and more worn down that she could ever have imagined it would become. But her eyes weren't focused on her old ship; it was instead focused on the pilot, who had just turned towards them. Brown, messy hair, face smeared with grease, the Corellian blood stripe on his pants…
He was a dead ringer for Jacen.
Obi-Wan's next words froze her blood. "That would be the pilot, Han Solo."
"She can make point five past light speed," Han was saying. "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts. I've made a lot of special modifications to her myself. Now if you don't mind, we're in a bit if a rush. So if you'll all just hop on board, we'll get under way."
Buffy kept her head down as she moved past Han, too shell-shocked to say anything. She was followed by the rest of the group and she instinctively led them to the crash couches in the main hold. As she was strapping herself in, she heard blaster fire from outside the ship, then a curse from the back of the ship in a tongue she didn't recognize. A figure ran past her and her previously frozen blood evaporated. The girl who ran past them with a two blasters drawn wearing what appeared to be Mandalorian armor sans the helmet had a very familiar face. A face that looked so similar to Dawn's… a face she had remarked on more than one occasion looked similar to what Buffy thought Joyce would have looked like.
Han was alive. And so was Joyce.
And she had abandoned them.
Oh god, what have I done?
Han had just replaced the starboard fuel cap when the first Storm Trooper barged in the bay, screaming "Stop that ship!" and firing wildly at the Corellian. Ever a man of instincts, Han drew his trusty blaster and plugged away at the armored troops, dropping them as fast as he could manage while still dodging their bolts. But more kept coming and he couldn't make it back to the ramp.
Then suddenly the gods sent him a gift. Or at the very least, a Mandalorian with two big guns and a chip on her shoulder the size of the Falcon.
"A nice, easy charter! Everything's under control! Any of this ringing a bell, Han?" Joyce shouted, giving her brother cover fire as he dashed back to the ramp. "I ought to shoot you on general principles!"
"Yeah, yeah - shoot me later!" Han cried as he ran up the ramp. "For now, let's get out of here! Chewie, fire her up!" Joyce backed into the ship, still firing even as the ramp lifted into the closed position. She felt the familiar hum of the repulsors firing and the main engine flaring to life as Chewie took the Falcon out of the dock and into the air. She moved through the ship and into the main hold, grabbing her helmet and slipping it back on.
"Just stay put folks," she said to the passengers, "we do this all of the time." She hurried past them, but stopped at the entrance to the cockpit tunnel and looked back over their 'guests'. Two droids, a boy in farmer's clothes and thee people in robes, one of which had their hood up. It was the third one that interested Joyce - she felt somewhat familiar…
A shudder ran through the ship, and the farm boy's eyes popped up towards her. Joyce let out several choice Mandalorian curses and raced into the cockpit, aware that the farm boy was following her. The door slid open and she slid into the chair behind Han, punching away at the navicomputer. She dimly noticed the farm boy coming in behind her.
"What's going on?" he asked as the ship was rocked again.
"Star Destroyers, two of them. Coming up fast. You guys must be hotter than I thought," Han laughed shortly. "This is where the fun begins..."
"I thought you said this crate was fast. Can't you outrun them?" Luke retorted sarcastically.
"Watch your mouth boy, or you'll find yourself floating home," Han replied angrily. "Well be going fast enough one we make the jump to light speed."
"How long until you can make the jump to light speed?" Luke asked.
"It'll take a few moments for the naivicomputer to calculate the jump." Joyce replied calmly.
"Are you kidding? At the rate they're gaining?"
"Flying through space ain't like dustin' crops, boy!" Han shot back. "Without precise calculations we could fly to close to a star or fly through a black hole and that'd end your trip real fast." The ship rocked again, more violently then before. "Go strap yourself in, I'm making the jump!"
"Coordinates set," Joyce said.
"Punch it!"
Chewie pulled back on the hyperdrive initiator, and suddenly the stars streaked into lines as space seemed to spin around the ship. Within moments, they were in hyperspace.
She was alive. Her little girl was alive.
How could she have not seen it? How couldn't she have sensed it? How could she let her, let them, spend twenty years thinking she was - what? Did they think she died? Did they think she abandoned them? She looked up as Luke ran back in and threw himself into the crash couch and strapped himself in, then felt the familiar hum of the hyperdrive as it engaged.
"Well, I guess we made it," Luke commented. Suddenly Buffy undid her harness and bolted from her seat, heading aft towards the engines. "What's wrong with her?"
"Old memories, Luke," Obi-Wan said sadly. "Old and unhappy."
Buffy knelt in the engine compartment, lost in her memories. How many hours had she and Jacen spent in here, tweaking the engines to above perfection? Joyce had been conceived in this very compartment…
Joyce.
Her little girl, still alive. And a Mandalorian, to boot. She wondered how that happened, what had driven her to that warrior culture.
She's your daughter, you fool, she thought to herself. She's part Slayer. It's only natural that she would be drawn to their culture.
She deftly reached underneath the humming hyperdrive and removed a loose floor plate. Setting it aside, she reached into the hole in the floor and withdrew a small holo she had placed there years ago as a sort of time capsule. She set it aside and then reached into her robes and withdrew her spare dimensional beacon and placed it into the now empty hole and replaced the floor plate. Reverently she picked up the holo and switched it on. It flared to life and projected the blue image of herself, Jacen and the children in front of their apartment back in Internment Camp 13.
"Hey, this is a restricted area!"
Buffy closed her eyes and fought to compose herself. The voice was so familiar, even through the distortion of the helmet's amplifiers.
"I didn't realize smuggler's ships had restricted areas," Buffy said, not turning to face her daughter. Not yet…
"Well, you learn something new everyday," Joyce replied and then noticed the holographic image floating above her palm. "What's that?"
"Something I left behind on this ship years ago," Buffy explained. "A family portrait."
"Don't remember ever seeing you on this ship before," Joyce remarked, looking closer at the image. She recognized a younger-looking Han; the older guy kind of looked like what Han looked like now. And the woman…
"Who are you?" she demanded sharply. Buffy sighed and switched off the holo and then stood and turned around, pulling her hood down at the same time. And for the first time in twenty years, Joyce looked upon the face of her mother.
"Hello, sweetie," Buffy said, tears in her eyes.
This is what it feels like to be Joyce Solo at this moment.
Fear. Confusion, Elation.
Hatred.
Her mother was here. Here, on the Falcon. She was alive. Slowly, Joyce removed her helmet and set it on the ground. She looked upon her mother then, her blue eyes hard.
"There were days," she started, looking over her mother, "there were days when all I wanted was for you to come home; to hold me, to tell me everything would be okay." The hatred in her flared and Buffy had to fight hard not to wince away from her. "Then I grew up and all I wished was that you died, broken and alone." Joyce shook her head. "Even now, you continue to disappoint me."
"I…I thought you were dead," Buffy whispered. "I couldn't feel you, I thought you were dead!"
Joyce drew her blaster and pointed it at Buffy's head. "And I wish you were dead!"
Han came out of the cockpit, followed closely by Chewie. The two made their way into the main hold, where the three men sat talking in hushed tones. The fact that one of the passengers wasn't there set him on edge.
"Where's the other one of you?" he asked tersely. Luke shrugged.
"She headed aft," he said. "She didn't look well."
"She shouldn't have left the hold," Han shot back. "Did Joyce head that way?"
"Yes, she did," Obi-Wan said. "I'm sure they will be back shortly - they have much to talk about."
"Why would Joyce need to talk to a crazy old hermit?" Han asked annoyed. Obi-Wan sighed.
"Because the 'crazy old hermit' is Buffy Skywalker - her mother."
Han was frozen. Skywalker - he remembered her! She was going to marry her dad, make them a family again.
She gave him Joyce.
And then she split.
Without a word, Han took off towards the engine compartment, Chewie and the passengers hot on his heels. He came to the door of the engine compartment to find his sister with her blaster drawn, holding it on a very familiar face.
"Well, well. The prodigal mother returns," Han said.
"Hello, Han," Buffy said, tears beginning to run down her cheeks. "You don't know how happy I am to see you…"
"You seemed happy the day you left us, so forgive me for not taking much comfort in that," Han said sarcastically. Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a joyful roar and a pair of thick, furry arms that wrapped themselves around her and lifted her off of the ground.
"Chewbacca!" Buffy said, overjoyed. "I thought that was you! It's so good to see you again!"
"What?" Han and Joyce said at the same time. Han looked to his old friend. "You know her?" Chewie roared in return. "You met her before the Clone Wars? A Jedi… she our mother! Well, Joyce's mother, at any rate…"
Chewie set Buffy down and then mussed her hair. "I know it's a lot to take in. I thought you had been killed by the Sith." She tuned back to Joyce, who had holstered her blaster. "Just as I thought you both were killed by the Separatists'. If I had known you were alive…"
"Osi'yaim!" Joyce snarled and then backhanded Buffy. "Ni'duraa! You are dar'buir to me!"
"Oh my!" Threepio said, having shuffled to where all the commotion was. Luke turned to the droid with a curious expression.
"What did she say?" he asked. The golden droid turned his glowing eyes on the young farmer.
"Well, after an assortment of rather colorful Mandalorian curses, she has essentially disowned Mistress Skywalker. She no longer considers Mistress Skywalker her mother."
"Oh, man…"
"Listen, everybody - why don't we all move into the main hold and we can all sit down and talk about this rationally…" Obi-Wan started.
"I have nothing more to say to this deserter," she growled. Han nodded in agreement.
"I feel the same way. So let me tell you what's going to happen. You're all going to go back to the hold, We're going to go back to the cockpit and after we drop you all off at Alderaan, you," he pointed at Buffy, "can go and disappear for another twenty years."
Buffy wiped the tears from her face and squared her shoulders. "If that's how you feel, then fine. But I think my daughter and I need to have a conversation." In a flash, one hand reached out and grabbed on to Joyce's wrist, while the other flew to her belt and activated her PPG. There was a bright flash of purple and white energy and in a flash the two women were gone.
Chewie roared in fear and confusion even as Han drew his blaster.
"What the hell!" Han cried, turning and pointing his blaster at Obi-Wan. "What in the nine Corellian hells just happened? Where's my sister!"
Obi-Wan rubbed his temple and sighed in resignation. "Why don't we move back to the hold and we'll explain a few things…"
With a flash of purple and white energy, the two women appeared in the embarkation room at the Council. Running on instinct, Joyce roughly shoved Buffy away with her free hand, breaking her mother's grip on her wrist. She then drew her blaster and leveled it at Buffy, who calmly raised her hand towards the gun which promptly flew out of the young Mandalorian's hand. Joyce reached out towards the gun and it stopped in midair between the two women. Joyce gritted her teeth and struggled to bring her blaster back towards her; Buffy stood their calmly, expending no obvious effort.
"Judging by the push, you got some of my strength. It would also appear you can access the Force, but I can tell you've had no training."
"Not many freaks like you around these days," Joyce ground out.
"Yes, well - just remember. You're a freak like me, too," Buffy replied, casually swishing her hand and sending the blaster flying across the room. Joyce went for her second blaster, but Buffy relieved her of that as well. The elder Slayer crossed her arms and looked pointedly at her daughter.
"Just how many times do I have to disarm you?"
"More than that, believe me." She looked around the room, taking in the various pieces of unfamiliar equipment. "Where are we?"
"You are where I've been staying. This is the Watcher's Council, on the planet Earth."
"Never heard of it," Joyce replied flippantly.
"That's because it's in another dimension," Buffy said, causing her daughter to gape at her.
"Eta Kooram Nah Smech!" Joyce replied.
"It's the truth," Buffy responded earnestly. Joyce shook her head violently.
"No. It's just another lie. You're trying to make excuses for leaving us. Well, it's not going to work, Jedi! Not on me!" Joyce shoved past Buffy and ran out the door, nearly bowling over Dawn in the process. The young Padawan did a double take at seeing her own face rush past her.
"What the fuck?"
Buffy sighed. "Don't swear, Dawn."
"What ever you say, Hermione," Dawn retorted. "So, what's up with the attack of the clones?"
"That was Joyce, my daughter."
There was a pause as Dawn considered that. "I thought she was dead," she finally said. Buffy sighed sadly and looked out the door towards where her daughter had run.
"So did I, Dawnie," she said quietly. "So did I."
"So you're telling me that my sister is in another dimension?"
Han was pacing in front of the crash couches, Chewie standing tautly behind him while Luke, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sat before him. "You expect me to believe that?"
"It's the truth," Obi-Wan replied.
"It's sithspit!" Han shouted. "It's ridiculous!"
"I've been saying that for years," Luke muttered. Obi-Wan sighed.
"Look, Captain Solo," he started, "Buffy just found her daughter and she wasn't going to be able to talk to her while everyone here is ganging up on her. She brought Joyce across the barrier to try and talk to her. I'm sure they'll be back soon."
Han scowled. "Well, let me tell you this, old man. If they're not back by the time we get to Alderaan, I'm letting you off in the atmosphere. Come on, Chewie," he said to his friend, heading back towards the cockpit. "Let's make sure we lost the Imps."
Obi-Wan sighed as the two left before turning to Luke. "In the mean time, let's say we get started on your training, shall we?"
Joyce had stopped running and was now walking aimlessly through the halls of the strange building she had ended up in. As ridiculous as it was for her to think, the more she looked around the more she began to believe her mother's story about being in another dimension.
She's not my mother, she thought to herself fiercely. A mother doesn't abandon her children.
She walked down another hallway, passing portraits of strange looking men and women, passing strangely dressed girls who gave her odd looks as she passed by. Joyce grimaced inside. She was the kind of warrior that prized herself on her stealth abilities, for moving around unseen even in a crowd.
Unfortunately, there was no one else wearing armor here.
She rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Heading towards her, her head down in a book, was a woman whose face and name was burned in her memory-
Darth Traya.
Joyce had spent many hours studying the invasion of Corellia by the Separatists and the events that led to the death of her father. She knew that Darth Traya was the right hand to Count Dooku and that she had ordered the total extermination of the population of her home planet. She had heard stories that she had even hired mercs to kill Buffy and anyone she was close to - including her father.
And now the woman who was responsible for all of the grief, all of the pain in her life, was walking towards her, completely oblivious. She felt the anger well up inside of her, and welcomed it. She wasn't a Jedi. She didn't use powers to hurt and kill - that's what her blasters were for. And even without them, she had a few surprises in her suit.
Calmly, she walked towards the object of her hatred, who finally glanced up.
"Dawnie, what's wrong…" Willow said and then trailed off as she took in her outfit. "You didn't go back to Coruscant again, did – wait..." she said, finally realizing. "You're not Dawn…"
Joyce stopped in front of the witch, her cold eyes boring into the horrified gaze of the redheaded witch. "No, I'm not. My name is Joyce Solo. And I've waited a long time for this moment, Darth Traya…"
Admiral Motti entered the quiet conference room, his face streaked by the linear lights lining the walls. His gaze went to the spot where Governor Tarkin stood before the curved viewscreen and he bowed slightly. Despite the evidence of the small green gem of a world entered in the screen, he formally announced, "We have entered the Alderaan system. We await your order."
The door signaled and Tarkin made a falsely gentle gesture to the admiral. "Wait a moment yet, Motti."
The door slid aside and Leia Organa entered, flanked by two armed guards, followed by Darth Vader and Master Halcyon.
"Governor Tarkin," she spat. "I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash. I thought I recognized your foul stench when I was first brought on board."
"Charming to the last," Tarkin declared in a fashion which suggested he was anything but charmed. "You don't know how hard I found it to sign the order for your termination." His expression changed to one of mock sorrow. "Of course, had you cooperated in our investigation, things might be otherwise. Lord Vader has informed me that your resistance to our traditional methods of inquiry—"
"Torture, you mean," she countered a trifle shakily.
"Let us not bandy semantics," Tarkin smiled.
"I'm surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility for issuing the order on yourself."
Tarkin sighed reluctantly. "I am a dedicated man and the pleasures I reserve for myself are few. One of them is that before your execution I should like you to be my guest at a small ceremony. It will certify this battle station's operational status while at the same time ushering in a new era of Imperial technical supremacy. This station is the final link in the newly-forged Imperial chain which will bind the million systems of the galactic Empire together once and for all. Your RebelAlliance will no longer be of any concern to us. After today's demonstration no one will dare to oppose the Empire."
Organa looked at him with contempt. "Force will not keep the Empire together. Force has never kept anything together for very long. The more you tighten your grip, the more systems will slip through your fingers. You're a foolish man, Governor. Foolish men often choke to death on their own delusions."
Tarkin smiled a death's-head smile, his face a parchment skulls. "It will be interesting to see what manner of passing Lord Vader has in mind for you. I am certain it will be worthy of you—and of him. But before you leave us, we must demonstrate the power of this station once and for all, in a conclusive fashion. In a way, you have determined the choice of subject for this demonstration. Since you have proven reluctant to supply us with the location of the rebel stronghold, I have deemed it appropriate to select as an alternate subject your represented planet of Alderaan."
"No! You can't! Alderaan is a peaceful world, with no weapons to speak of! You can't..."
Tarkin's eyes gleamed. "You would prefer another target? A military target, perhaps? Then name the system." He shrugged elaborately. "I grow tired of such games. For the last time, where is the main rebel base?"
A voice announced over a hidden speaker that they had approached within antigrav range of Alderaan—approximately six planetary diameters. That was enough to accomplish what all of Vader's infernal devices had failed to.
"Dantooine," she whispered, staring at the deck, all pretense at defiance gone now. "They're on Dantooine."
Tarkin let out a slow sigh of satisfaction, then turned to the black figure nearby. "There, you see, Lord Vader? She can be reasonable." He directed his attention to the other officers. "Proceed with the operation, gentlemen. You may fire when ready."
It took several seconds for Tarkin's words, so casually uttered, to penetrate. "What!" Organa finally gasped.
"You're far too trusting." Tarkin chided sarcastically. "Dantooine," Tarkin explained, examining his fingers, "is far too remote to serve as an effective demonstration. Have no fear, though. We will deal with your rebel friends on Dantooine as soon as possible."
"No..." Organa started to protest.
He gestured to the two soldiers flanking her. "Escort her to the principal observation level and," he smiled, "make certain she is provided with an unobstructed view."
Anakin and Padmé sat with Tara, Kennedy, Spike and Zett sat in the TV lounge watching Passions. Anakin held Padmé close to him, munching on a bowl of popcorn that Padmé occasionally dipped into.
"This show is terrible. It's completely unbelievable," he remarked, eyes never leaving the screen.
"It's not supposed to be believable, it's supposed to be entertaining," Spike remarked.
"It shouldn't even be entertaining, how bad it is," Padmé said. "Still, its better acting than some of the Senators I used to serve with were capable of."
"You see, this is all a part of my plan for world domination," Spike said conversationally. "First, I get everyone here addicted to Passions. Then when I make my move, they'll all be to busy watching it to stop me."
"A masterful plan, worthy of a Master Vampire like yourself," Tara said amicably, sneaking some popcorn from Anakin who unsuccessfully tried to swat her hand away. She popped on kernel in her mouth, then another in Kennedy's. Spike smiled.
"Thanks Glinda. I certainly thought so-"
Further conversation was cut off when two figures suddenly smashed through the opaque glass wall that separated the room from the hallway and landed on the floor of the lounge amid the broken glass. There was a brief struggle, then they all saw the impossible - Dawn kneeling on top of Willow dressed in strange armor, her right hand raised to strike. In a flash, two wicked looking blades popped out of the gauntlet on her arm.
"Time to die, you fucking BITCH!" Joyce snarled. Willow looked up in fear, which quickly turned to a look of resignation. Joyce moved to bring the blades down into her face, but her arm was intercepted by an iron grip. She looked up to see a snarling, deformed male face with blond hair and long, pointed teeth.
"You're not Dawn and this ain't happening," Spike snarled, yanking the girl up. She surprised him by going with the momentum, spinning around and belting him with her left fist. The force of the impact caused him to let go of her arm and Joyce spun around and slashed at Spike, cutting his chest deeply. Kennedy moved in, batting away the blades and belting her twice in quick succession in the face before grabbing her by the throat and lifting her into the air. Joyce lashed out with her left foot, catching Kennedy in the face and dazing her long enough for the Slayer to drop her. She moved to stab the girl in the chest, but suddenly a voice cried out "Thicken!" and the air around her seemed to congeal. She started in anger at Tara, who had her hand extended and a look of intense concentration on her face. Joyce struggled to move and she unconsciously tapped into the Force to fight against her imprisonment. With a loud bang and a flash of light, the air around her exploded, causing Joyce to drop and throwing Tara into Anakin and Padmé. The young Mandalorian struggled to her feet and staggered towards Willow, who was rising herself. Joyce moved to strike-
- and was brought up short by a brilliant blue blade of a lightsaber that suddenly flared to life under her chin.
"That's enough, niece-o-mine," Dawn said, holding her one ignited blade steady. It was soon joined by Anakin's.
"Go HWONG-TONG," the Jedi Master said softly. "This place is a sanctuary. There is NO KILLING here, DONG-luh MAH?"
"You can't stop me from fulfilling skira!" Joyce protested. She turned her head slightly towards Dawn and froze in shock as she saw the face that stared back. It was her face, aside from some differences. The nose was a little thinner and the eyes were a silver-gray instead of the deep blue of hers. Dawn noticed her stare and smirked.
"Yeah, this is weird for me, too," Dawn remarked. "Now, what's to say you drop the blades? Or at least put them away."
"EVERYBODY put their weapons away," A voice said from the hallway. All eyes turned towards Buffy, who stood calmly with her arms behind her back. "Anakin, Dawn - put them up."
Dawn stared at her sister for a moment, then at Joyce and then finally shut off her saber. Anakin quickly followed suit and hooked his back on his belt. Joyce hesitated for an instant, then flexed her hand and retracted her blades. Buffy nodded in agreement.
"Joyce, let's take a walk," She said then moved down the hall, obviously expecting Joyce to follow. After a few moments' indecision, she followed.
The two made their way down to the lake, where the memorial stood. Joyce glanced at the wall impassively.
"What's this?" she asked in a bored tone.
"Your legacy," Buffy replied, getting her daughters attention instantly. "Did you ever wonder where that extra strength came from? Or how you were faster than everybody else? Or how your wounds would heal fast, even without bacta?" Absently Joyce nodded, staring at the names on the wall. "When I was fifteen, I was chosen. One girl in all the world, with the strength and skills to fight the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness - that's what I was told. I became the Slayer. The names you see before you are all of the Slayers that came before me. Also here are the names of the Watchers - those who guide the Slayers - as well as our loved one that have passed on."
"What's all of this have to do with me?"
"Well, there are many Slayers now," Buffy continued patiently. "And I may be a Jedi, but I'm still a Slayer. It would appear that you inherited a portion of that power as well. We have no real evidence to back it up - Slayers normally don't have children and the one we know about is a man with no powers, so maybe it's only a girl thing."
Joyce was half paying attention, her focus on the names instead. She came upon a familiar name and stopped.
Joyce Summers
Beloved Mother
Buffy noticed where Joyce's gaze was fixed and smiled sadly. "That's your grandmother, my birth mother. I named you after her."
Joyce nodded and then looked at the name under it.
Buffy Anne Summers
Beloved Sister
Devoted Friend
She saved the world a lot
Buffy chuckled. "They thought I was dead for a time."
Joyce raised an eyebrow. "Runs in the family, does it?"
Buffy nodded slowly, turning her gaze back to the wall. Joyce followed her gaze and gasped at the names she saw under Buffy's.
Jacen Solo
Han Solo
Joyce Solo
My love, My life, My Child
Be at peace and may we find each other
In the Force one day
"Daddy," Joyce whispered as she reverently ran her fingers over her father's name.
"I come here every day. To remember…" Buffy took a shuddering breath before she pressed on. "I was chosen as a Slayer, Joyce. That meant that I wasn't supposed to live past eighteen. When I was younger, I never even thought about having children - I never expected to live long enough to have any. So when I had you," she paused for a moment to compose herself, wiping away the tears that were falling freely now. "When I had you, it was an answer to a prayer that I never knew I had uttered. The happiest day of my life was the day you were born. When I thought you were all dead - I nearly died. I tried to die." Images of holding the Falcon steady as they sped towards the Separatists command ship during their escaped flashed through her mind.
"Why?" Joyce whispered. "Why did you leave?"
"The day I left, I had gone out on a routine patrol to investigate something that had landed near our camp," Buffy explained. "It turns out it was my brother and his Master and they had come to rescue me. They told me they came to bring me back. I told them I wasn't leaving."
"Then why did you?" Joyce demanded, her voice hard.
"I found your father's body. The building was collapsed; smoking. You and Han had been home when I had left…"
"He had brought me to the park," Joyce said quietly. "I remember crawling around in the grass while he watched me. Then I remember pain, lots of pain." She shuddered at the early memory. "I remember wishing it would go away and it did."
"You shut yourself off from the Force," Buffy realized. "You were so young, you did it instinctively. That's why I couldn't feel you…"
"So it's my fault?"
"No!" Buffy added quickly. "It's mine. Jesus, Joyce! You felt your father die! You felt all of them die! I should have realized you would have cut yourself off…"
"So we both screwed up," Joyce sighed, sitting down on the ground. "You didn't look and I thought you just didn't care." The girl looked up at her mother, a haunted expression on her face. "So, what now?"
Buffy sat down next to her daughter and gently placed an arm around her. Joyce stiffened and then started to relax into the hold slightly. "Now we have a conversation without trying to kill each other." Joyce let out a choked laugh and then fully relaxed into the embrace, her eyes never leaving the stone that bared her father's name.
The two women had retired to Buffy room in the Council building. Joyce moved around slowly, taking in everything. She stopped at the fireplace and looked at the pictures that adorned the mantel.
"What is this place, anyways?"
"Our haven," Buffy replied, fixing two glasses of Corellian brandy. "When the purge happened, we realized we needed a safe place to gather the surviving Jedi. We kind of lucked out that my friends and family found us when they did and brought us back here. This is actually where I'm from, originally."
"You're from another dimension?" Joyce asked, looking back at her mother unbelievingly. Buffy shrugged.
"That's another story for another time," she said, handing the drink to Joyce. The girl took a sip and nodded appreciatively.
"Nice." She nodded to a picture of Dawn. "So who's the look-a-like?"
"Your Aunt Dawn," Buffy paused for a second, "or possibly your sister. Depends on your point of view."
Joyce blinked, nodded and then downed the brandy. "I think I'll probably need another one of these."
Buffy chuckled as she refilled the glass. "You get used to it, believe me. What about you?" she regarded the armor. "What's with the armor? It's Mandalorian, right?"
Joyce shrugged. "I'm a Mandalorian."
"I thought you were Corellian."
Joyce chuckled and took a sip of her drink. "When I was twelve, Han enrolled in the Imperial Academy and I got sent to an Imperial Boarding School. After about six months I got sick of it, so I stole an Imperial shuttle and ran away."
"You stole an Imperial shuttle?" Buffy repeated.
"Are you going to reprimand me?"
"No, no." Buffy chuckled. "Just impressed you were such a delinquent at such a young age." She paused a moment. "You really are my daughter," she muttered under her breath.
"Call it a lack of a positive role model," Joyce replied dryly. "Anyways, I wandered for a few months before I ended up in the Mandalorian sector, where I caught the eye of the Mand'alor - the ruler of the Mandalorian people."
"How'd you do that?"
"I had heard about the Mandalorians and they appealed to me. I guess, thinking back now, their lifestyle appealed to the Slayer in me. A couple of them were giving me trouble, saying an aruetiise like me had no business with them. I proved them wrong."
"You kicked their asses," Buffy interpreted. Joyce raised her glass in acknowledgement and took a sip.
"They respected me a hell of a lot more after that. Anyway, the Mand'alor took me under his wing, taught me his trade. After about two years, I settled down on Mandalore and learned more about the people and customs. I became a Mandalorian."
"Just like that?"
"Blood doesn't matter to them, Buffy. Intent does. Sincerity in your beliefs does. For years with Han, I felt like an outsider. When I was on Mandalor, I felt like I belonged. It felt right."
Buffy nodded and finished off her drink. "So, how did you and Han find each other again?"
Joyce chuckled in amusement. "About four years after I ran, I took a contract. Some deadbeat, low level smuggler had racked up a debt and hadn't paid it back. Guess who it was?"
"Your brother?" Buffy guessed. "And you were working as a bounty hunter?"
"What do you think the Mand'alor taught me, basket weaving?" Joyce shot back. "And yes, it was Han. So I took the contract, tracked down my brother, paid of the debt and then collected the bounty, which was double what Han owed. Made a nice little profit from that. And I've been riding with Han ever since, watching his six."
"A Mandalorian and a Wookie guarding Han. He's got to be the most protected smuggler in the Outer Rim," Buffy mused.
"Just about," Joyce mused. There was an awkward silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "So now what?"
"I'm not sure," Buffy admitted. "But let me tell you this - despite whether you acknowledge it or not, I am your mother. And I will not abandon you again, now that I found you. I promise you that."
Joyce only sat back in her chair, silently contemplating. Buffy sighed and sat back herself, finishing her drink.
On the Falcon, both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both stumbled, feeling something through the Force. Ben leaned against a counter while Qui-Gon stumbled back into the crash couches. Luke noticed and shut off his saber.
"Are you two all right?" he asked them. Qui-Gon shook his head.
"No, but give me a few moments and I will be."
"What happened?"
"We felt a great disturbance through the Force," Ben explained, "as if suddenly millions of voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." He motioned to Luke. "You should get on with your exercises."
Luke nodded and switched his lightsaber back on. Meanwhile Han was busily checking readouts from gauges and dials in the hold area. Occasionally he would pass a small box across various sensors, study the result and cluck with pleasure.
"You can stop worrying about your Imperial friends," he told Luke and Ben. "They'll never be able to track us now. Told you I'd lose them."
Kenobi might have nodded briefly in response, but he was engaged in explaining something to Luke.
"Don't everybody thank me at once," Solo grunted, slightly miffed. "Anyway, navigation computer calculates our arrival in Alderaan orbit at oh-two-hundred."
He returned to his checking, passing in front of a small circular table. The top was covered with small squares lit from beneath, while computer monitors were set into each side. Tiny three-dimensional figures were projected above the tabletop from various squares.
Chewbacca sat hunched over one side of the table, his chin resting in massive hands. His great eyes glowing and facial whiskers wrinkled upward, he gave every sign of being well-pleased with himself.
At least, he did until Artoo Detoo reached up with a stubby clawed limb across from him and tapped his own computer monitor. One of the figures walked abruptly across the board to a new square and stopped there.
An expression of puzzlement and then anger crossed the Wookiee's face as he studied the new configuration. Glaring up and over the table, he vented a stream of abusive gibberish on the inoffensive machine. Artoo could only beep in reply, but Threepio soon interceded on behalf of his less eloquent companion and began arguing with the hulking Wookie.
"He executed a fair move. Screaming about it won't help you."
Solo looked back over his shoulder, frowning slightly. "Let him have it. It's not wise to upset a Wookiee."
"But sir," Threepio argues, "no one worries about upsetting a droid!"
"That's because droids don't rip people's arms out when they loose. Wookiee's are known to do that," Han replied. For his part, Chewie just sat back in his seat with his hands behind his head. Qui-Gon chuckled.
"I'd like to offer a new strategy, Artoo," the elder Jedi said. "Let the Wookiee win."
Oblivious to the altercation, Luke stood frozen in the middle of the hold. He held an activated lightsaber in position over his head. A low hum came from the ancient instrument while Luke lunged and parried under Ben Kenobi's instructive gaze. As Solo glanced from time to time at Luke's awkward movements, his lean features were sprinkled with smugness.
"No, Luke, your cuts should flow, not be so choppy," Kenobi instructed gently. "Remember, a Jedi can actually feel the force flowing through them."
"You mean it controls your actions?" Luke inquired.
"Partially, but it also obeys your commands."
The Jedi was hefting a silvery globe about the size of a man's fist. It was covered with fine antennae, some as delicate as those of a moth. He flipped it toward Luke and watched as it halted a couple of meters away from the boy's face.
Luke readied himself as the ball circled him slowly, turning to face it as it assumed a new position. Abruptly it executed a lightning-swift lunge, only to freeze about a meter away. Luke failed to succumb to the feint, and the ball soon backed off. Moving slowly to one side in an effort to get around the balls fore sensors, Luke drew the saber back preparatory to striking. As he did so the ball darted in behind him. A thin pencil of red light jumped from one of the antennae to the back of Luke's thigh, knocking him to the deck even as he was bringing his saber around—too late.
Rubbing at his tingling, sleeping leg, Luke tried to ignore the burst of accusing laughter from Solo. "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid," the pilot sneered.
"You don't believe in the Force?" asked Luke, struggling back to his feet. The numbing effect of the beam wore off quickly.
"Kid, I've been from one end of this galaxy to the other," the pilot boasted, "and I've seen a lot of strange things. But I've never seen anything to make me believe that there was some all powerful force controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field that controls my destiny."
Kenobi only smiled gently before turning back to face Luke. "I suggest you try it again, Luke," he said soothingly. "Only this time you should let go of your physical self." He hefted a blast-shielded helmet and placed it on Luke's head.
"But with the blast shield down, I can't even see! How am I supposed to fight?"
"Your eyes can deceive you, Luke," Qui-Gon said. "Don't trust them. Concentrate on the living Force, let it flow through you."
"I can't do it," Luke moaned. "I'll get hit again."
"Not if you let yourself trust you," Kenobi insisted, none too convincingly for Luke. "This is the only way to be certain you're relying wholly on the Force."
Noticing that the skeptical Corellian had turned to watch, Kenobi hesitated momentarily. It did Luke no good to have the self-assured pilot laugh every time a mistake was made. But coddling the boy would do him no good either and there was no time for it anyway. Throw him in and hope he floats, Ben instructed himself firmly. Bending over the chrome globe, he touched a control at its side. Then he tossed it straight up. It arched toward Luke. Braking in mid fall, the ball plummeted stone-like toward the deck. Luke swung the saber at it. While it was a commendable try, it wasn't nearly fast enough. Once again the little antenna glowed. This time the crimson needle hit Luke square on the seat of his pants. Though it wasn't an incapacitating blow, it felt like one and Luke let out a yelp of pain as he spun, trying to strike his invisible tormentor.
"Relax!" Quinn urged him. "Be free. You're trying to use your eyes and ears. Stop predicting and use the rest of your mind."
Suddenly the youth stopped, wavering slightly. The seeker was still behind him. Changing direction again, it made another dive and fired. Simultaneously the lightsaber jerked around, as accurate as it was awkward in its motion, to deflect the bolt. This time the ball didn't fall motionless to the deck. Instead it backed up three meters and remained there, hovering.
Aware that the drone of the seeker remote no longer assaulted his ears, a cautious Luke peeked out from under the helmet. Sweat and exhaustion competed for space on his face.
"Did I—?"
"I told you that you could," Kenobi informed him with pleasure. "Once you start to trust your inner self there'll be no stopping you."
"I'd call it luck," snorted Solo as he concluded his examination of the readouts.
"In my experience there is no such thing as luck."
"Call it what you like," the Corellian sniffed indifferently, "but good against a remote is one thing. Good against the living is another."
As he was speaking a small telltale light on the far side of the hold had begun flashing. Chewbacca noticed it and called out to him.
Solo glanced at the board and then informed his passengers, "We're coming up on Alderaan. And might I say that my sister still isn't here, so I hop you brought your chutes. Come on, Chewie."
Rising from the game table, the Wookiee followed his partner toward the cockpit. Luke watched them depart, but his mind wasn't on their imminent arrival at Alderaan. It was burning with something else, something that seemed to grow and mature at the back of his brain as he dwelt on it.
"You know," he murmured, "I did feel something. I could almost 'see' the outlines of the remote." He gestured at the hovering device behind him.
Qui-Gon's voice when he replied was solemn. "Luke, you've taken the first step into a larger universe."
Dozens of humming, buzzing instruments lent the freighter's cockpit the air of a busy hive. Solo and Chewbacca had their attention locked on the most vital of those instruments.
"Steady... stand by, Chewie." Solo adjusted several manual compensators. "Ready to go sublight... ready... cut us in, Chewie."
The Wookiee turned something on the console before him. At the same time Solo pulled back on the hyperdrive activator and abruptly the long streaks of Doppler-distorted starlight slowed to hyphen shapes, then finally to familiar bolts of fire. A gauge on the console registered zero.
Gigantic chunks of glowing stone appeared out of the nothingness, barely shunted aside by the ship's deflectors. The strain caused the Millennium Falcon to begin shuddering violently.
"What the—?" a thoroughly startled Solo muttered. Next to him, Chewbacca offered no comment of his own as he flipped off several controls and activated others. Only the fact that the cautious Solo always emerged from hyperspace with his deflectors up—just in case any of many unfriendly folks might be waiting for him—had saved the freighter from instant destruction.
Luke fought to keep his balance as he made his way into the cockpit. "What's going on?"
"Aw, we've come out of hyperspace into a meteor shower. Some kind of asteroid collision. It's not on any of our charts." He peered hard at several indicators. "Our position is correct, only no Alderaan."
"What do you mean? Where is it?"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you, kid. It's been totally blown away," Han replied.
"But—how?"
"Destroyed. By the Empire," a voice declared firmly. Ben Kenobi had come in behind Luke and his attention was held by the emptiness ahead as well as the import behind it.
"No." Solo was shaking his head slowly. In his own way even he was stunned by the enormity of what the old man was suggesting. That a human agency had been responsible for the annihilation of an entire population, of a planet itself... "No... the entire Imperial fleet couldn't have done this. It would take a thousand ships massing a lot more firepower than has ever existed."
Muffled alarms began humming loudly as a synchronous light flashed on the control console. Solo bent to the appropriate instrumentation.
"Another ship," he announced. "Can't judge the type yet."
"A survivor, maybe—someone who might know what happened," Luke ventured hopefully.
Ben Kenobi's next words shattered more than that hope. "That's an Imperial fighter."
Chewbacca suddenly gave an angry bark. A huge flower of destruction blossomed outside the port, battering the freighter violently. A tiny, double-winged ball raced past the cockpit port.
"It followed us!" Luke shouted.
"No, it's a short range fighter," Qui-Gon said, coming into the cockpit.
"But where did it come from?" the Corellian wanted to know. "There are no Imperial bases near here."
"It's leaving in a big hurry," Luke noted, studying the tracker. "No matter where it's going, if it identifies us we're in big trouble."
"Not if I can help it," Solo declared. "Chewie, jam its transmission. Lay in a pursuit course."
"It would be best to let it go," Kenobi ventured thoughtfully. "It's already too far out of range."
"Not for long."
Several minutes followed, during which the cockpit was filled with a tense silence. All eyes were on the tracking screen and viewport. At first the Imperial fighter tried a complex evasive course, to no avail. The surprisingly maneuverable freighter hung tight on its tail, continuing to make up the distance between them. Seeing that he couldn't shake his pursuers, the fighter pilot had obviously opened up his tiny engine all the way.
Ahead, one of the multitude of stars was becoming steadily brighter. Luke frowned. They were moving fast, but not nearly fast enough for any heavenly object to brighten so rapidly. Something here didn't make sense.
"Impossible for a fighter that small to be this deep in space on its own," Qui-Gon observed.
"It must have gotten lost, been part of a convoy or something," Luke hypothesized.
Solo's comment was gleeful. "Well, he won't be around long enough to tell anyone about us. We'll be on top of him in a minute or two."
The star ahead continued to brighten, its glow evidently coming from within. It assumed a circular outline.
"He's heading for that small moon," Luke murmured.
"Don't worry, he's almost in range."
They drew steadily nearer. Gradually craters and mountains on the moon became visible. Yet there was something extremely odd about them. The craters were far too regular in outline, the mountains far too vertical, canyons and valleys impossibly straight and regularized. Nothing as capricious as volcanic action had formed those features.
"That's no moon," Kenobi breathed softly. "That's a space station."
"That's impossible!" Solo objected.
"I have a very bad feeling about this," was Luke's comment.
"Turn the ship around," Kenobi said calmly.
"Yes, I think you're right. Full reverse, Chewie."
The Wookiee started adjusting controls and the freighter seemed to slow, arcing around in a broad curve. The tiny fighter leaped instantly toward the monstrous station until it was swallowed up by its overpowering bulk.
Chewbacca chattered something at Solo as the ship shook and strained against unseen forces.
"Lock in auxiliary power!" Solo ordered.
Gauges began to whine in protest and by ones and twos every instrument on the control console sequentially went berserk. Try as he might, Solo couldn't keep the surface of the gargantuan station from looming steadily larger, larger—until it became the heavens.
Luke stared wildly at secondary installations as big as mountains, dish antennae larger than all of Mos Eisley. "Why are we still moving toward it?"
"Too late," Kenobi whispered softly. A glance at Solo confirmed his concern.
"We're caught in a tractor beam—strongest one I ever saw. It's dragging us in," the pilot muttered.
"You mean, there's nothing you can do?" Luke asked, feeling unbelievably helpless.
Solo studied the overloaded sensor readouts and shook his head. "Not against this kind of power. I'm on full power myself, kid, and it's not shifting out of course a fraction of a degree. It's no use. I'm going to have to shut down or we'll melt our engines. But they're not going to suck me up like so much dust without a fight!"
He started to vacate the pilot's chair, but was restrained by an aged yet powerful hand on his shoulder. An expression of concern was on the old man's face—and yet, a suggestion of something somewhat less funereal.
"If it's a fight you cannot win—well, my boy, there are always alternatives to fighting..."
The true size of the battle station became apparent as the freighter was pulled closer and closer. Running around the station's equator was an artificial cluster of metal mountains, docking ports stretching beckoning fingers nearly two kilometers above the surface.
Now only a minuscule speck against the gray bulk of the station, the Millennium Falcon was sucked toward one of the massive hanger bays that soon swallowed the ship whole. Whether they liked it or not, Han Solo and company were now guests of the Empire.
TBC…
Twenty five pages, over nine thousand words, and this clocks in as my longest chapter yet. Next chapter we get the romp through the Death Star and Buffy and Joyce come back to help break our heroes out - and someone will DIE!