"My Name is Starbuck."
Rolling in a tangle of thought and energy they fought. Memories and beliefs cognitive echoes encoded in patterns of energy, hurled at one another. Oscillation and counter oscillation, wave and counter wave, an elemental battle tearing at the fabric of their being.
"I'm here to save the universe…"
Two become one as energy collapses around them and choice is removed. There is the echo of sorrow, a wavelength of remorse streaking desperately away, striving for coherence, and finally…sadly… succumbing to dissonance. In the final moment before chaotic entropy, energy resolves one final time into a thought which is broadcast as a death knell. The first thought whispered into the ears of man in a primordial world, which caused him to look at the world for the first time with something more than necessary tolerance, ushers him into oblivion at last.
"Why…"
***
The Dagobah system crawled with life. A century ago this backwater had been nothing more than an empty system forgotten and left for the most part, to itself. A self contained world, having long ago spewed forth its civilization, had waited in repose, awaiting its turn once more in the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. Whatever new potential awaited beneath its murky clouds vanished the day a certain stone ring began to tremble and shake, the day certain stone chevrons slid to lock certain symbols in place. The day the Goa'uld came and everything changed.
Wedge pondered this as the Dodonna drifted quietly through the system.
"Hey how's our cloak holding up?" Han asked leaning over the shoulder of a mildly irritated pilot. The cockpit of a Corellian corvette was not a spacious area, and Han had constantly been leaning over the man's shoulder frequently for the past hour. The freighter captain turned General was still uncomfortable trusting others to fly. The Jedi standing placidly behind him was another matter entirely. Stolid and unmoving, the pilot, one Wes Jansen was unnerved at the change that had overcome his friend in the past few months.
"I really don't know sir, as far as we can tell it works, but we don't really know what the limits of the empire's capabilities are here. They've been using this system as a testing ground for their new technologies, when a jumper cloaks, Atlantis can't see it, but that doesn't mean we're wholly invisible, and there's an awful lot of traffic out here."
"I got a bad feeling about this." Muttered Han earning a groan from both Wes and the man sitting in the co-pilots seat, Tycho Celchu. "What?"
"You always have a bad feeling." Muttered Celchu, "Every ten minutes you have a bad feeling. When you die, that's all they'll remember, "Han Solo: he had a bad feeling about that."
"If you have a bad feeling, maybe you should just keep it to yourself." Wes suggested helpfully, "You don't want to tempt fate by saying it out loud right?"
"Hey if my feeling runs true, I don't want to lose the last chance I have to be right." Han grumbled. He stalked off irritably towards the back compartment. Tycho and Wes breathed a sigh of relief until they were reminded of the other awkward presence in the room.
Wedge had always been the pilot's pilot, a sort of everyman that anyone could count on, anyone could relate to. After Yavin there had been a sort of growing bitterness about Wedge, more disappointment piled on a heap of them, and Wedge had gotten a bit more risky.
Little of that was reflected in the man who stood behind him. Placid and thoughtful, Wedge had become centered, and in fact somewhat remote. Even now he was likely pondering some sort of mystical.
"I need to hit the head." Wedge announced. "Tycho can you page master Yoda? It would be good for one of us to be up here to help us steer clear of any trouble."
"What's the force saying these days?" asked Wes trying to inject some levity into the air, but from his tone of voice Wedge could see he was genuinely curious. For many in the alliance there was an air of anticipation, as though the galaxy were on the cusp of rebirth. The Jedi were remembered in the alliance, and now the new Republic, though the old Empire had done all it could to stamp out their memory. The force holocaust had rattled the galaxy as it became all too aware by absence, of how deeply the force moved in many. Even those with only a slight connection had suffered intense pain as the Goa'uld fired their last salvo.
With the arrival of Starbuck, and the discovery that one Jedi still lived, hope had stirred. Hope fanned to a fervor pitch as the miraculous events on Coruscant spread like wildfire. The dead risen, Yoda's restoration to health and vitality, why the little fellow didn't look a day over 600! Hope was reborn in those moments when yoda had chosen the first of his new students; young men had stood up and sworn oaths once more in drunken celebration. "The Empire will fall!" they had declared, "Freedom will be restored!" They had toasted the return of the Jedi and waited for their first moves to come. They still waited.
"The force grows/" Wedge announced sensing his friends need for hope. "It swirls in consternation over the arrival of the Ori, we have not the strength yet to challenge them on equal ground, but the force spreads quickly wherever we go. Our padawans have been diligent and many areas of the galaxy reawaken once more."
"That was my idea." John Sheppard chimed in, "Stolen from the Ori ironically. When they came first came to my galaxy, they just spread the word. No attacks, no ships, just raising awareness, scouting out where they would be well received. If the Midi whatsits reproduce in living creatures, than why not send envoys? Kind of like planting two kinds of rebellion at once."
"Intuitive it was." Yoda acknowledged as Sheppard exchanged places with Celchu. Chewie followed the pair ducking low, and waited for Wes to relinquish his seat. "A strong apprentice you have become yet grounded you still are not."
"Oh I'm grounded." Replied Sheppard reaching up to flip some switches, "Just not here. I still have a home back on Atlantis, in my time. My people don't give up easily."
"Well if the winds of change are blowing and hope is in the air, than I can retire to my bunk and think happy thoughts." Wes answered following Tycho and Wedge, "Keep her in one piece till I get back rookie."
"Rookie?" demanded Sheppard, "I resent that." Chewie chuckled besides him, earning a wounded look from Sheppard. "Hey I'm a jack of all trades but I'm no slouch when it comes to piloting." John objected, "There's just been no call for fancy flying lately." Sheppard said turning face his console, Chewie chortled a criticism, "Han's a different kind of pilot." Sheppard objected, "He can't do anything BUT fancy flying. Me, I'm naturally conservative. "
An alarm beeped and Sheppard checked his readouts and Chewie reported.
"I see 'em I see 'em. There's plenty of space." Sheppard assured Chewie as a trio of Tie fighters approached. "They'll pass right by, there's no need to adjust course." The TIE fighters grew rapidly and John's hand hovered over the controls, "Don't want to fire the thrusters if we don't have to, it could give us away." He muttered eyes locked to the readout, even a slight distortion of gravity could show up…" Chewie watched in mounting alarm but didn't flinch as the three TIE fighters hurdled past nearly brushing the canopy. "See?" answered Sheppard shakily, "Nothing to worry about, passed right on by."
"A nudge they were given." Yoda informed him from his place in the back. The little Jedi was exhaling slowly, "Too close that was, but nearly there are we." Distracted by the near miss with the fighter patrol, John had not noticed dinner plate sized brown orb that grew steadily of to one side. The ship was drifting in on a parabolic trajectory and had been doing so for several days. While the cloak seemed effective, it had been decided to come in unpowered so as not to alert the new Empire as to their intentions.
"My home that was, for many years." Yoda declared sadly, "much life, it once held."
"Not to mention a stargate." Sheppard commented, "The gate probably survived the BDZ at the end of the Goa'uld wars, but a lot of the planets moisture has burned off. Imperial city is in orbit around here somewhere but I don't see it."
"Obscured it is, by the planet." Yoda replied, "Sense it I can, in the force."
"Looks like one of your boys made it onboard." Sheppard remarked, "Handy. Hope he made it off."
"Carried not by simply my padawans is the force." Yoda stated closing his eyes, "Spread on its own it has, being to being does it pass, though not all are awakened to its presence. Chosen for me to do that has been. Great Faith in me has the Force placed. Evolved, my understanding of it has of late."
Sheppard closed his eyes and attempted to reach out with his senses. This was new to him, and he thought fondly of the days he had spent among the ancients while they tried to teach him to meditate. He had not been able to settle, and had instead taken to running. Yoda had pointed out that balance came in many forms. John he had said, found balance in the rhythm of life, not the silence of peace. This had been a window into understanding, that john had greatly profited from over the past few months. He sought that rhythm now, reaching tentatively in pulses of expanding awareness. He found the small crew of the Dodonna, he found the pilots of the TIE fighter patrol, and that of a nearby defense platform, and at last he found what Yoda spoke of, at the range of his awareness. A beacon of light.
"Let me ask you something." Said John glancing back at Yoda, "This Thrawn character, this empire, are they as bad as all that? I mean we're not talking about Darth Vader here, it doesn't seem like the Empire is all that bad. City's full of life, and people go about their lives in this galaxy…"
"Competition of ideologies this is." Yoda observed, "Tyrants versus rebels, a clear side there was, worn habits we have fallen into. Yet warn us, the Force still does, a secret, this Thrawn has."
"I really don't want to get caught up in this all." Sheppard sighed, "I just want to go home. With Starbuck gone, that's looking less and less likely. Hopefully this Adama character can shed some light, hopefully he's still around.
"Oh he is." Came a deep voice from behind them, "And he's very glad to see you."
Sheppard whirled and to his amazement a newcomer stood in the cockpit beside Yoda.
"How did you…" he wondered, "We're in SPACE!"
"As was I." replied Adama, I admire your bravery in coming to find me, but thought perhaps attempting to land would pose too great a risk, no, I came out to meet you some time ago.I am with you now, and its time we go, Empire or no."
"No disagreement here." Said Sheppard thumbing the intercom, "Solo, you might want to get up here. We have a guest."
"Perhaps in the mean time you can set a course back the way we came." Adama suggested.
"Sure I could." Sheppard said, but do that we'd have to turn Artoo back, on, and risk sending a signal that the cloak can't hide. Mind telling me what's so urgent?"
"Forgive me for being so abrupt." Said Adama as Han stumbled up behind him, "its Starbuck you see, he is about to lose his soul…"
***
The Death Star had arrived.
A column of coherent emerald energy plowed through the cluster of Ori ships scattering them into their component atoms. The survivors of the imperial fleet, who were not preoccupied with their own imminent demise, let out a ragged cheer. Onboard the battered Chimera Pellaeon was given the news as he was transported to the med bay from the wreckage of the bridge. Several broken ribs and a pair of legs mangled beyond recognition did not prevent the Admiral from gasping critical orders for managing a withdrawal.
"Grand Admiral Sir, the Emperor, he's here!" a crewman shouted hurrying down the crowded corridor Leading to the med lab. A communication station was being erected to allow the grand admiral to coordinate the battle with the secondary bridge located deep inside the battered Super Star destroyer.
"Here?" Pellaeon demanded dismayed, "Sithspawn, he c can't be here, we have no weapons against those…" understanding dawned, "The Death Star?"
"He has brought it sir." The young officer puffed with pride. "He fires at a distance to cover our retreat. Those freakish energy beings can't reach him; whenever they try he simply scatters them with a blast.
"Has he been able to destroy the super gate?" Pellaeon asked,
"He has not tried to sir." Replied the officer perplexed, "I do not know why…"
"Most likely at this range the shield they have erected can absorb anything short of a full power blast." Pellaeon remarked. "Get that thing on now." He shouted at the technicians working on the comm. Station, "Forget the tactical for now, just give me a line to the bridge. Captain Katarn." He snapped as the screen sprang to life, and the officer in question turned. "I am told the Emperor is here?"
"Indeed he is sir." Katarn replied, "Our retreat does not go well sir, our forces were being cut to ribbons before, and now the Ori have moved to a position placing us between them and the Death Star."
"Has the Emperor tried to contact us?" Pellaeon demanded.
"He has transmitted nothing directly save a holo message that appears to have been broadcast galaxy wide." Reported Kyle.
Show me." Pellaeon commanded as a med tech waved a healing device over his legs. Pellaeon gritted as bone began to knit itself and the med tech waved a droid over to adjust the dosage of his pain medication.
"You'd best keep me clear headed doctor." He grunted, "This is no time to succumb to infirmities of the flesh."
On the screen, the visage of the Emperor appeared. Standing in a pristine white suit, reminiscent of military attire, The Emperor regarded the screen with a calm demeanor, hands clasped calmly behind his back. His red eyes stared deep into the camera, and Pellaeon felt compelled to hang on his every word, thought it was a simple recorded broadcast.
"My brave fellow citizens, we stand on a precipice. I regret to inform you that even as we declare victory over the cylons, and victory over the Vong, a new, final threat confronts us. War weary as we are, battle worn as we have become, we must focus our attention on one last enemy. This enemy has been with us from the dawn of our existence, hidden, and lurking only in legend. Attracted by our struggles, it moves at last, seeking to strike us in our hour of weakness. It has made a grave error."
The emperor paused, and Pellaeon could feel emotions stirring within him, Thrawn was a master tactician and a master statesmen. A consummate leader who embodied everything he believed in about the empire. With his ship dying around him, Pellaeon watched with rapt attention as the Emperor made his address.
"We are not weak. We are not afraid. Death is an uncertainty faced by all warriors, and over these past long years, we have all become warriors in our own ways, we have fought to protect, we have fought to defend, we have fought to build and we have fought to live. We have united as one under a set of ideals and a common purpose. On the ashes of the old Empire, we have forged a new order. The so called new republic has failed to acknowledge this and in doing so they have rendered themselves irrelevant. I invite them to join us in this cause, yet I know they have neither the strength of arms, nor of purpose to aid us. "
Pellaeon was so entranced he no longer noticed as the medical droid cut away at necrotic flesh still passing the healing device developed from the technology found on imperial city. Even the technicians and doctors paused in the work to watch the Emperor's address. Pellaeon felt a strange weariness overcome him even as his heart thrilled at the words he heard.
"My fellow citizens, history is on the move. We must march once more. Those who cannot keep up will be left behind, to watch from a distance, those who stand against us… will not watch at all. I go now to join my soldiers, on the decommissioned Dawnstar. It was built as a weapon of war, and so it must be once again, a sword in times of terror, forged from the plowshare of peace and prosperity. We must earn our freedom once more from those who would invade our homes, and this struggle we must all share. It must be the duty of every citizen to pause for a time and observe the honor of our warriors as they fight for you. It is the duty of every citizen to honor your emperor and to lend me your strength for but a moment. Give of your devotion and acknowledge anew your dedication to the new order. Your strength flows through me, and into the hearts of our enemies, and against your strength, they cannot stand. Victory will be hours."
With a shuddering gasp Pellaeon realized the transmission had ended. Awestruck as he was he noticed the others around him returning to life. Katarn waited on the comm. Screen.
"Captivating." He observed to his commander."
"Indeed captain. The Ori continue to maneuver to avoid a direct line of fire with the Death star?"
"They do sir; the Death Star is nearly in range of the Stargate now. The energy beings have clustered around it and are moving on the Death Star while their minions regroup."
"Status of the fleet?" snapped Pellaeon.
"Less than eight percent combat capable." Katarn reported, "It is a testament to engineering that our ships endure at all, despite catastrophic damage. The new refits have served us well sir but we are loading survivors onto the more serviceable craft and it hampers our withdrawal."
"Still no word from the Emperor?" Pellaeon asked once more. "No orders?
"None sir. If he has a plan, we may not be part of it. The Ori are even now closing on the Death star, and those ships..."
"Those ships can be hunted down captain." Pellaeon replied watching the tactical display, "The Stargate can be obliterated, but the Ori themselves… how does the Emperor plan to oppose them?"
***
"Well well well." Chided a familiar voice, "Look who the cat dragged in."
Dissociative memories followed one another, a parade of distraction as he tried to bring himself back…
"Well you are in a poor state aren't you?" Observed that mocking voice, "all our hopes and dreams by the wayside yes? I cannot help you my friend, though oddly enough I wish to…"
Confusion and discordant rushes back the slayer of worlds.
"Can't even form a thought eh? Can't even form hate. If you can't hate me, who CAN you hate? Still I suppose I've changed all that. I will do my best to gather you, if for no reason other than to spite THEM, to spite HIM, but I cannot save you my friend only you can do that."
Hope flashes in consternation, a thread of lost ambition…
"Gather yourself on this my friend, until better help arrives. You're name is Starbuck. You are here to save the universe."
What is the universe?
"Oh I'm afraid I can't answer that question my friend, if you cannot answer that you have truly become adrift in reality. Help is coming though, I have saved you from the Jackals, now the lion comes."