Chapter Two
Aboard the Millenium Falcon
Han Solo watched Tatooine recede on the view-screen. "I hope this is the last I see of that Jawa-infested hellhole," he muttered. Han was still too shaky from carbonite exposure to pilot, so Lando was doing the honors. After all this, Han was probably end up giving the Millenium Falcon to Lando. The old pirate had earned it.
Solo turned away from the view-screen and turned his attention to Leia and the two Jedi. The others --including Han's double -- were in their own ship, a tubby shuttle with little in the way of looks, but with impressive shields and weapon systems for a ship its size. Han was glad Indiana Jones wasn't around at the moment. He was having enough trouble dealing with what the Jedi were saying.
The Obi-Wan Kenobi Han had known was a wise old man whose quiet competence had greatly impressed the smuggler. Han had seen that Kenobi die aboard the Death Star. And now he was looking at a younger version from another universe. Han had a good working knowledge of physics -- you couldn't maintain a hyperdrive engine without it -- so he was familiar with the "many worlds" theory. Hyperspace was, in effect, a different universe, one where the laws of relativity could be bent to the breaking point. He'd never expected to see visitors from another reality, though. Especially when they were younger versions of people he knew -- or strangers who looked exactly like him.
"So that is how the Republic fell," Qui-Gon Jin said, after Leia finished her tale. The princess nodded grimly. "Amazing. Who would have thought we were so weak that Palpatine's machinations could destroy us so easily?" According to Leia's tale, the Qui-Gon of this reality had died fighting a Sith warrior, a puppet of Palpatine. He had been spared knowing that everything he had fought so hard to protect would be destroyed in a few decades.
"So what is it to you?" Han broke in. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan looked at him, and Leia gave him her typical "Do you have to be so rude" glare. "I'm sure your world turned out fine, so why are you helping us? Not that I'm ungrateful, or anything," he hastened to add. "But nobody does anything out of the goodness of their hearts." Well, usually. Rescuing him was clearly an exception. And come to think of it, he had done something equally stupid instead of rushing back to Jabba's to settle his debts. Maybe the Multiverse was full of idealistic suckers.
"A fair question," Qui-Gon said. "This time and place is a focal point. The outcome will affect a myriad of timelines, trillions of lives. If the Empire triumphs, the Dark Side of the Force will be supreme. The Empire will soon fall, victim to internal squabbles. Anarchy and chaos will flourish for thousands of years, and the Dark Side will grow even stronger. Humanity and a hundred other races will be driven into extinction, and the galaxy will become a lifeless, barren zone in less than a hundred thousand years. The Eternity Legion is pledged to prevent such an outcome."
"All right, then. Although six people, even if three of them are Jedi, don't seem like enough."
"We brought a bit more than six agents here," Obi-Wan replied.
"Hey, Han, come take a look!" Lando called out from the cockpit. Han went and saw the starship Enterprise. In the distance, he also saw the burning remnants of two Star Destroyers, and yet another ship.
"I'll be damned," he whispered to himself.
*****
Starship Enterprise
Ten-Forward Lounge
Ensign Quinn Mallory took a swig of his synthehol beer and waited. He was sitting by himself at a table in Ten-Forward, the Enterprise's official bar. Sooner or later, Wade would be finished with her debriefing, and she would join him here. It had been harder than he'd expected, watching the woman he loved go on her first mission without him by her side. But he supposed he must get used to it. She was a Jedi now, able to lift a car in the air by sheer force of will, or to cut through a starship's hull with her light saber. Some of the assignments for which she was qualified had no place for a former dimension-hopper scientist guy.
Quinn finished off his drink, wishing for the real stuff.
The main doors opened, and a beautiful woman walked. Not Wade, unfortunately, but Quinn could not help smiling and returning Gabrielle's effusive wave. The girl from Mythic Greece could cheer up a funeral procession. "You're waiting too," she said. "Mind some company?"
"Please."
Gabrielle sat down at his table after getting a tall glass of something with an umbrella on it. "They should be coming here pretty soon," she said.
"Probably after the medical check-up," Quinn agreed. Gabrielle was as eager to see Xena as he was to see Wade, he knew. "I wish I'd been with them."
"Me too," Gabrielle agreed. "The Captain
decided that more than one shuttle might have attracted too much attention from
the locals."
"I know, I know," Quinn said, still looking glum.
"You're used to be the one protecting her," Gabrielle said, looking him in the eye. It wasn't a question.
"If it wasn't for me, Wade would have led a normal life on our Earth. I'm responsible for anything that happens to her."
"Quinn, she could have chosen to return to a normal life when the Legion contacted us. You cannot claim responsibility for her choosing to become a Jedi."
"But she has those powers only because the Cro-Mags experimented on her. It's…" Quinn shrugged and forced himself to smile. "Tell you what, I'll spare you the whining self-pity if you tell me any interesting news you might have heard."
"Deal." Gabrielle sipped her drink before continuing. "Just before we left, I heard that Sarah Connor and Duncan McLeod are getting serious."
"I knew that. I'm the one who recommended Beachworld to them when they went on leave together." Beachworld was an alternate Earth where a mad genius had released a chemical in the atmosphere that eliminated all violent impulses on people. The resulting world had become a peace-loving paradise, largely devoted to such pastimes as surfing, suntans, the arts, and transcendental meditation, sort of a super-mellow California. The Eternity Legion had saved the planet when a primitive version of the Borg came knocking, and the world was now the unofficial vacation spot for agents on leave. "But I was hoping for news, not gossip."
"Gossip is news," she replied with an infectious grin. "But if you're not interested, I won't tell you who Maggie is seeing now."
Quinn leaned forward. Maggie Beckett and him had been more than friends before. Although he had chosen Wade in the end, he was interested despite himself. "Who? Xander?"
"Guess again."
"Indy?"
"Nah."
"Okay, don't tell me."
"I've learned all about reverse psychology, Quinn. Don't try your 20th century voodoo on me," Gabrielle said.
Quinn conceded defeat. "I could name every eligible man in the Legion, but when you add the crews of the Enterprise and the Defiant, it's going to take a while. So I give up."
"Iolus."
"Iolus?" Hercules' sidekick? "When?"
"It was a foxhole romance. Literally. They hooked up during that mission in World War I, the one with the nuke on the Western Front. They got caught behind enemy lines, spent the night in an abandoned trench and, well, you can fill in the rest."
"Thanks for sparing me the details. Is it serious?" Over the last couple of years, there had been quite a bit of casual relationships among the agents. It was the nature of the job. Coming face to face with death did wonderful things for one's libido. All in all, Quinn would trade a boring sex life for a better chance at living out his natural life span, though.
"Iolus thinks so. You'll have to ask Maggie to find out where she stands. I'm not that close to her," Gabrielle concluded.
And apparently, neither am I, Quinn didn't say. Of course, it would be too much to expect Maggie to confide personal stuff like this to Quinn, given their past history. Still, he felt a bit disappointed, and hurt. He shook his head. Emotions didn't have to make sense, unfortunately.
Before he could ponder this, the double doors of Ten Forward whiffed open, and Xena, Wade, Indy and three strangers arrived. One of the newcomers looked like Indy's twin brother.
"I can't wait to hear about this mission," Gabrielle said as she went to greet her friends.
*****
Starship Enterprise
Conference Room
It had been a great victory. Picard could find little joy in it, however.
The Enterprise and the Defiant had defeated three capital ships in a brief, brutal engagement. The operation had been a textbook ambush conducted against a superior foe.
It had also resulted in the deaths of over sixty thousand humans.
Each Star Destroyer had a complement of almost forty thousand troops; only a third of each vessel's crew had managed to reach escape pods and evacuate before the ships were catastrophically destroyed. Picard's elation at the victory had vanished in cold realization as the full meaning of the exploding starships sank in.
It is good that war is so terrible, or else we would become fond of it. Many military commanders in history, including the general who had first spoken those words, had come to learn the truth in that phrase.
When he said that out loud, Senator Organa had grimaced. "Don't mourn those sixty thousand, Captain. The Empire's Death Star destroyed my home planet. If you wish to mourn, mourn those innocent millions."
The quiet words were like a slap in the face to the Starfleet captain. "That certainly puts things in perspective, I suppose," he replied.
"War is terrible, yes," Leia continued. "Defeat in this war
is even worse. I will save any regrets or tears for after the war is done."
Picard nodded slowly. "You have defined the situation most pointedly, Senator
Organa. The Eternity Legion is here to help you win this war."
"And for that you have my thanks. We will need all the help we can get." The Senator – and Princess, too, but Picard preferred the non-aristocratic title – took a deep breath before continuing. "The betrayal of Luke Skywalker cost us several bases and supply caches. The Rebellion is on the run. When I left to rescue Han, there were reports that the Empire was working on a second Death Star. A planetoid-sized vessel, capable of shattering an entire world with a single blast from its main weapon."
"That would be a good place to start, then. We must destroy this Death Star."
"Yes. I will contact the rebel leaders. They should know more; I fear that time is of the essence."
"That, my dear lady, is an all too common situation in my experience."
*****
Forest Moon of Endor
Sith Luke closed his eyes, and let the Force wash over him. His preternatural senses reveled in a rich stew of emotions – terror, twisted love, and awe.
His children had done very well.
They called themselves the Ewoks. Small, furry humanoids with a primitive technology, they had not taken well to the Imperial outposts on their homeworld. Several stormtroopers had bee killed and eaten by the cute but quite deadly natives.
And then Sith Luke had gone to them.
The Ewoks had a new god now. He had many names – the Lord of Skulls, the Dark Father, the Master of Torment. The shamans of the new god had made war on the tribes who would not honor him as was his due. Luke had provided his followers with energy weapons; they and the judicious application of the Force here and there – drive a chieftain mad, or slay a recalcitrant witch doctor – had quashed all resistance. The surviving Ewoks – in the week since Luke's arrival, half of the natives had been killed in the brutal Jihad he had led –all worshipped him.
The drums of the Ewoks reverberated all around Luke. The ceremony was almost over; the last sacrificial victim had been killed, his head removed and stripped of all fur and flesh. The polished skull would join the growing bone pyramid at the center of the village.
The Dark Side pulsed through him in a perfect counter-rhythm with the beating of his heart and the pounding drums. All that power, and all he had to do to get it was to put himself, his wants and desires, above all other things. If he wanted something, Luke would seize it, by force if necessary. To embrace the Dark Side was to surrender to absolute egotism. He reveled in it.
And yet, under the surface pleasure, disquiet stirred within Luke. Something was wrong. Yoda had fallen, and with him all hopes of defeating the Emperor and his two Sith warriors. And yet, not all plans were going as planned. Confused reports about the destruction of two Star Destroyers had arrived a few hours before. Darth Vader had not said much, but Luke had sensed his anger – and worry. He did not know the details, but whatever happened had taken place in Tatooine, and it might have involved Leia and Han.
Luke shuddered. Killing Yoda had been a pleasure. His former friends might be a different matter altogether. A moment later, he dismissed the thought. He would be strong.
Sith Luke stoop up and looked up at the night sky. The Death Star shone overhead like a demonic full moon.
*****
Starship Enterprise
Wade snuggled next to Quinn. "Are you all right?" Their lovemaking had been wonderful as always, but afterwards, Quinn had seemed to withdraw into himself. He had never been a "Wham bam thank you m'am" kind of guy. Something was bothering him.
"Me? I'm okay. Just thinking about the transporter problem." The tone was a little too casual. Wade had promised herself never to use her Force senses to invade her friends' privacy, but she could tell he wasn't being completely honest with her.
"Come on, Quinn. That's not it. Give it up."
"I thought I just did," he said glibly, putting a hand on her waist. His smile was almost right, but Wade had seen the genuine article enough times to know this wasn't it.
"You know what I mean."
Quinn took a deep breath. The smile vanished, replaced by a
somber expression. "I'm not used to feeling useless, that's all."
"Useless? What are you talking about?"
"I'm still a primitive barbarian when it comes to Starfleet technology;
Giordi and the others, they grew up knowing that half of the things I "knew"
were totally wrong. I have to remember to forget most of my training. And as a
field agent, I suck. I have no "kewl powerz"," Quinn used the term John Connor,
the younger Eternity agent, had coined for the special abilities of some
agents. "No special training, no
super-skills."
"Do you think having "kewl powerz" is a picnic?" Wade snapped. "Look at Hercules. He has to always watch himself, or he could hurt somebody without meaning to. Or Pru Haliwell; if she gets upset she can pull a Carrie all over the place. Or me."
"Or you." He met her gaze for a moment, and then looked down. "Back when we were Sliding, we were a team. Now you are part of the team, and I'm more like the team's water boy."
"Quinn, you are being silly. You are a field agent, same as me."
"I…" Quinn shook his head. "You're right. I'm just being stupid because you went to Tatooine while I was back here working on the damn transporter problem. I'm just being a chauvinistic male idiot."
"Well, stop it," Wade said in mock anger. She snuggled close to him.
"I'll try." Quinn sounded better, but there was a trace of dubiousness in his tone. Wade hugged him tightly. After all they'd been through, Quinn wouldn't let her powers come between them, would he?
*****
"Well, that could have gone better," Giordi Laforge said in a subdued tone.
"And a supernova is a little hot, Duncan McLeod is a little old, and the Fortress is in the somewhat far future," Quinn said sarcastically. He was angry; he was mostly angry at himself, but that didn't make him any more pleasant to those around him.
Useless.
The object of his displeasure was a cube of pseudo-organic gel, a synthetic material that simulated living tissue. The engineering team had tried an experimental transport, beaming the material a short distance to test Quinn's plan.
"The damage is extensive, all the way down to the cellular level," Doc Savage reported, looking up from the scanner screen.
"I can tell," Quinn said through clenched teeth. "It's bad enough all the pseudo-organs were twisted inside out, anyway. The cell damage is just icing on the cake." You couldn't get any deader than dead; if a living being had been transported, his body would have looked like something worked over by a chainsaw and then dipped in hydrochloric acid.
"It happens, Quinn," Giordi Laforge said soothingly. The experiment had been Quinn's idea; the plan had been to use slider technology to shunt the transporter signal to another universe for a brief moment, avoiding the vacuum fluctuations that made beaming up so dangerous in this universe. In theory, it should have worked. But the melted cube of organic material lying in a semi-solid puddle argued against it.
"It doesn't happen to me," Quinn all but hissed. He had gone over the equations three times, worked the mathematics himself. Professor Arturo had double-checked them, but he had found no fault in them. Neither had the holodeck simulation. They had been working on it for days, even as the Enterprise sailed through warp space to meet with the Rebel Fleet. Transporters could provide a vital advantage, and they had only a short time to make them work.
"I think I know why the sliding process failed," Doc Savage said. The former crime-fighter was all business; Quinn's tantrum affected him as little as the experiment's failure. "The interference applies equally to all near-local universes, and the slider device does not have the para-temporal range to carry the signal further than that."
"So it might be a matter of power input," Giordi said hopefully. "If we can increase the range…"
"The power requirements increase as the square of the quantum differential," Quinn said bitterly. The screen in front of him confirmed his conclusion in seconds. "To move the signal further away would require more energy than the total energy output of the Enterprise. Total output; we're talking shields, propulsion and life support. This was a complete waste of time!" he snapped, slamming a hand on the sensor table.
"Take it easy, Quinn," Giordi said. "We had to try. If your plan had worked, we would have saved a lot of time. Now, we just go back to calibrating the transporter grid. No harm, no foul."
"Okay. I'm sorry, Giordi," Quinn said. "I'm just getting tired of being useless." He glared at the cube.
Something snapped inside his head. Quinn's vision darkened, and he collapsed to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.
Giordi and Doc Savage rushed to his side. "Laforge to sickbay! We need help here!"
Behind them, unnoticed by the researchers, the organic cube flickered and disappeared for a brief moment, then reappeared again.
*****
"Do not try to strike the drone. You do not need to try. Use the Force, and you will succeed without trying."
Wade nodded, hearing Qui-Gon's words without letting them distract her. The holodeck training program had put her through a frenzied routine of dodging energy blasts and drone moving at bullet speeds. Three times, she hadn't been fast enough: two bruises and a nasty burn were mute reminders of those failures.
She moved without thinking, letting instinct take over. A drone shattered at the touch of her light saber. A fraction of a second later, its companion darted towards her -- or rather, towards the spot she had been occupying. Wade was already elsewhere, propelling herself with the Force in an impossible somersault that propelled her twenty yards in a single bound. Before the last drone had a chance to correct its aim, Wade concentrated for a moment, and crushed it with a thought.
"Computer, end program."
The drones disappeared. Qui-Gon stepped forward, smiling approvingly. "You are doing better, Wade Wells. Your advancement is surprisingly fast, for someone who started training so late in life."
Faint praise was better than none at all, Wade decided. Qui-Gon was a strict but fair teacher. Obi-Wan Kenobi had finished a much harder training routine a few minutes before, fighting a dozen drones instead of the six Wade had handled. He was standing by a corner, watching Wade's test.
"You were distracted, however," Qui-Gon continued. "Something is bothering you, and it is interfering with your skills."
Wade hesitated. Her argument with Quinn was still in her mind. "I'm sorry. I will do better."
Qui-Gon smiled. "I know you can do better. The question is, will you?"
"You were always a hard teacher," Obi Wan said. Except that Obi Wan was right in front of Qui-Gon's eyes, and he hadn't said a word.
They all turned towards the voice. Standing in the middle of the holodeck were an old man and a small wizened creature.
"Yoda!"
"Good again to see you, my friend." Yoda said. It took a moment to realize that neither Yoda nor the old man were corporeal; their forms were vaguely translucent. Their Force auras were unmistakable, however. It truly was Yoda, although an older and wearier version than the one Qui-Gon knew in his home universe. And the old man was the spirit of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The young Obi-Wan looked at the older version of himself. "So, you are what I'll become," he said breathlessly.
The older Kenobi gently shook his head. "No, Obi-Wan. This is what I became in this world. When I was your age, my teacher had been killed before my eyes. I am the Obi-Wan whose pupils – both of them -- became the greatest threat the galaxy has known." The old man turned his sad gaze towards his younger self. "I am the Obi-Wan whose mistakes I hope you will be strong enough to correct."
*****
Quinn Mallory was sliding away, falling through the twisting light tunnel that had been the only reliable landscape he had known for several years. Falling, falling…
He opened his eyes.
"Glad to see you're awake," Doctor Beverly Crusher said.
Quinn looked around. He was lying on a bed in sickbay. "What happened?"
"That's what we're trying to find out," Doctor Crusher said, running a bio-scanner over him. "Your stress level is rather high, but that shouldn't have caused a blackout."
"So what is it, doc? Am I going to live?" Quinn said jokingly. He felt fine, other than the overall frustration that had been with him since this mission had started.
"Have you been eating right? Your bio-energy levels seem low."
"I haven't skipped any meals or anything. No strenuous exercise… well, except at night," he said with a mischievous smile.
"Gentlemen don't kiss and tell," Dr. Crusher chided. "I'm also noting some unusual neural activity…" Doctor Crusher looked at Quinn. "Nobody has ever done a study about the side effects of Sliding. Maybe it's time we should."
"All Eternity Agents slide, don't we?"
"The process we use is far more advanced, though. You and your friends were routinely exposed to sub-space distortions that we have barely studied. Our "leaders" aren't very forthcoming about anything we cannot work out on our own, of course. And you were the most exposed, between your early experiments and the fact that you held the timer most of the time. My scans are triggering some unusual sub-space activity. You seem to be physically all right, but I'd like to hold you over for observation."
"Now? Doc, this really isn't a good time. We need to continue working on the transporter problem. I feel useless enough as it is."
Dr. Crusher sighed. "We really should change the name to the Workaholic Legion. I can't find a concrete medical reason to order you to stay, so you are free to go." As Quinn leapt from the bed, she continued. "But another blackout and you're back here to stay. All right?"
"Fair enough, Doc."
*****
It was good, to be Emperor of the galaxy.
Palpatine the First sat on his throne and meditated, a humanoid spider sitting at the center of web of Force tendrils. Idly, he reached out with his mind. A young Stormtrooper who was having second thoughts about serving the Empire started convulsing in his bunk bed. Palpatine snuffed the man's life with the casual satisfaction one might feel while crushing a mildly annoying bug.
"Not too shabby, if I say so myself."
Palpatine stiffened at the words. Somebody was here with him, in his inner sanctum, past an army of fanatical guards who would die a thousand times for their Emperor. Palpatine looked around, using his mundane sight as well as the Force, and saw the stranger leaning casually against a wall. He was wearing unusual clothing, blue material for his pants and jacket, solid walking boots for his feet. His face was covered by the shadows. And his aura…
In all his life, first as a hidden follower of the Dark Side, and then after assuming his rightful place as ruler of humankind, he had not encountered a power to rival his own. Until now. The gleeful malevolence of the stranger glowed like the corona of a collapsing star. Despite the rush of anger at the daring invasion of his sanctum, Palpatine felt a rush of kinship towards the stranger. "Who are you?" he asked harshly, even as he prepared to strike. Kinship did not guarantee good will, and Palpatine's first impulse was to destroy any possible threat.
"I think in this world, I think I'll be Roden Fell," the stranger said. "Yes, that has a nice ring to it. Hear me out, Palpie. I could save your miserable life."
"Try saving your own!" Palpatine shouted, and struck out. Bolts of force flew from his outstretched hand like a pack of lightning bolts and slammed Roden Fell against the wall. The stranger writhed in pain, and collapsed in a smoking heap. Palpatine stopped the onslaught; such applications of the Force were wearisome, even to him.
"I guess you needed to get that out of your system," Roden Fell said as he rose to his feet. The Emperor's eyes widened, and he felt fear for the first time in many years. "Oh, don't worry. If you keep it up, you'll probably kill me, more or less." Palpatine finally saw the face of the stranger, and he recoiled like a boy coming face to face with a snake. "But believe you me, good buddy, you wouldn't be far behind me. I'm here to save your miserable life."
"What do you want?" Palpatine replied immediately. Nobody did favors without expecting some reward.
"You are a sharp one, Palpie," Roden Fell said. "Right now, all I want is what you want. Death to your enemies. You've got yourself a whole new batch of 'em. Took out a couple of your big Star Destroyers, didn't you hear?"
Vader had given Palapatine the news a few days ago. Moff Derwan's report had been rambling and not very informative – a rebel fleet had allegedly ambushed Derwarn's task force in Tatooine. Vader had disposed of Derwan himself, and then obtained the truth. The "rebel fleet" consisted of two ships. A new type of vessel, perhaps. The Mon Calamari were expert shipwrights, and their entire race supported the Rebellion. "What do you know about this?" he demanded.
"The ships involved have come a long way to take you out, your Emperorship. I met them in another life. The details are a bit blurry, but I know they royally fucked me over. They didn't get me, though. Us bad pennies have a nasty habit of turning up again."
"Perhaps we can reach some sort of agreement," Palpatine said tentatively. Whoever this impudent stranger was, he sounded very useful. Total victory was almost within reach, and the Emperor would use whatever tools were available. And would discard them when they were no longer needed.
Roden Fell smiled widely. "You know, Palpie? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."