Dawn of Forever, Part XVII

The shuttle closed in on the monstrosity that hung in the void. As the image grew it was revealed that the shape was broken, incomplete. It was like looking at the bleached bones of some great beast and knowing what it was with the flesh on, and knowing what kind of threat it would pose were that the case. The difference, of course, was that this was a machine, and machines never really die as long as there are people foolish enough to try to bring them back to life. As it began to dominate the front window Lando had the eerie suspicion he'd been nominated for head fool. "What in the hell," he said in a slow voice, awe and horror fighting for control of his voice.

"It's exactly what it looks like, Mr. Calrissian," the Oracle remarked. "It's a Death Star."

"It seems our General Taar is a man of far greater ambition then I imagined," Garak said. Even he seemed awestruck by what he saw, despite his own world's fate in the face of another super-battlestation.

The Oracle smiled; it was a wholly unpleasant experience for those who witnessed it, almost frog-like. "Him? He lacks such ambition. This thing was built back when he was studying at the Imperial Academy."

"The Empire's had a Death Star sitting here all this time?" Garak asked. "Why haven't they used it?"

"It's not actually a Death Star, it's a prototype Death Star. Don't worry, Mr. Garak, it still works well enough for its macabre purpose."

"Hold on," Lando said. "If the Empire has a functioning Death Star, even a prototype, why didn't they use it? You know, finish it off? My company makes prototypes all the time, and they may not see front line duty, but we still find uses for them, or salvage the parts. The Emperor just went ahead and built a new one from scratch, and was commissioning the construction of more like it right before the Bastion Incident. With the hard work all done, they could easily have filled this out in a fraction of the time."

"You should know the answer to that, Mr. Calrissian," the Oracle said. "This is the first, the basis for Tarkin's Death Star."

Realization dawned. "The exhaust port."

The Oracle nodded. "A fundamental flaw in the design. The Emperor saw no need to waste resources on this, but also no need simply to scrap it. After the destruction of the second Death Star and the collapse of the Empire the records were purged and those who knew about it perished."

"Rather convenient," Garak remarked, who never found anything convenient in his experience.

"That was my doing," the Oracle admitted. "Between the two Death Stars most had been killed already. I just cleaned up the handful that was left, mostly a few scientists and technicians."

"I'm sure that was a challenge to a master of the Sith," Lando said bitterly. His throat tightened, but it was due to involuntary reaction rather than any Force powers. It was the sight of the Oracle, and those eyes... those mad eyes. Lando swore they flashed, actually flashed, when she glared at him. He suddenly felt he'd been lucky that Vader had worn that mask.

"Tracking down every last individual," the Oracle said slowly, darkly, "finding the right moment in time and space, carrying out the termination and returning again was a feat you couldn't accomplish in a hundred lifetimes. The existence of this untouched battlestation is the result of a plan meticulous in its planning and flawless in its execution." She stepped eye to eye with Lando. "And I won't have it mocked by some counter of money."

Lando was unable to pull away or close his eyes. He felt like the Oracle's eyes weren't just eyes, but an opening into an infinite abyss that threatened to suck him into oblivion. Lando would have handed the business, his possessions, the clothes on his back and lived naked on bare rock for the rest of his days if it meant not looking into those eyes. "I'm... sorry," he choked out.

The Oracle held the stare for another eternity or two. "Apology accepted," she said turning back towards the Death Star, "this time."

"I thought you couldn't alter the past," Garak said once the tension seemed to have lessened. "You said it wasn't possible."

"It's impossible for you to understand Garak," the Oracle said. "Some things must happen, it seems; cannot be interfered. It could be the will of the Force... or perhaps something, or someone, even more powerful. Whatever the reason, manipulating time without generating a paradox or skewing us into some alternate dimension is not an easy thing. I was not exaggerating when I described the difficulty of this task; for every successful assassination there were a dozen failures."

"I've known many people who traveled through time," Garak pointed out. "They always said it was hard to avoid altering history. Sometimes they saw history altered... had to actively participate to prevent it from being altered."

"Drop a stone into a pond and the surface will appear to be distorted, but the water will soon show no sign of its passing." The Oracle held up her hand before any more could be said. "I've had centuries to learn this, Garak, and I admit that even my understanding is far outweighed by my ignorance. There are some changes that can be absorbed, and some that aren't truly changes at all, but historical requirements. Time sometimes requires a thing or a person in the right place at the right time. At the moment, we require this battlestation. And I think you should be grateful for that."

"And I would be," Garak said. "Believe me, I've long wished I had a Death Star of my own, if nothing else than to return the favor the Imperials performed for my people. But besides the fact that it's decades old and obviously incomplete, it has the most famous design flaw in the universe. What good is it to me?"

The Oracle turned back to Lando; he'd rather hoped she'd exclude him from further discussion. "Mr. Calrissian, you were a piece of criminal scum back in the day."

"Thank you."

"You ever use a hold-out blaster?"

"On occasion," Lando said.

"Even though it's small, is less powerful, and in some cases can only hold a single shot?"

"Once or twice," Lando admitted. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Lando knew what she was getting at. "Because it doesn't matter if it's only one shot; it's the one shot they don't know you have."

"The largest hold-out pistol in the universe," Garak said as he looked back at it. "I suppose... It's going to take an incredible amount of work to get this thing working. Does it even have a hyperdrive?"

"I have the datapad with all the information there was before I purged the files," the Oracle said. "Alema's running a sensor sweep as we speak to see if anything's changed over the past few decades. Once that's done we'll drop you back off at your shuttle; after that it's up to you."

"No," Lando said. He felt all the eyes were on him, so he didn't look up. He didn't want to see those faces... it'd sap whatever strength he had left. "I won't do it. That thing is morally repugnant."

"It's a machine," Garak said. "There's no morality in a device, it's how it's used."

"What, Death Stars don't kill people, people do?" Lando shot back. "Garak, I'd have thought you of all people would know that that thing is evil incarnate."

Garak smiled. "Not when it's on my side."

"I won't do it," Lando repeated. "Find somebody else. And don't bother saying it," he pushed on as Garak opened his mouth. "You can run the company into the ground if you like, but this is where I draw the line."

"And what of her?" the Oracle asked. She gestured and an image of Molly O'Brien formed in the air. "Is she less important than your conscience?"

"Nice try," Lando said. "I've seen her working with your people; you wouldn't hurt her."

The Oracle's horrible smile returned. "Alema, come here." The Twi'lek at the controls got to her feet and came over. "Don't resist," the Oracle ordered, and Alema nodded. Force lightning shot from the Oracles fingertips, picked Alema up, and tossed her into the wall. "Get up. We'll try that again."

"Yes, master," Alema said, pulling herself to her feet. She stood rigid, but soon hit the wall as the Force lightning struck again.

"On your feet," the Oracle said. Alema struggled to get up while the Oracle wriggled her gnarled digits in anticipation.

"Enough," Lando said sharply. "You've made your point. You don't give a damn about them, fine. But I still won't do it. I can't do it."

"Lando," came a voice. It was weak, and filled with the tone of someone in agony and trying to keep the pain bottled away. "Lando..." Lando recognized it through the pain as Kira. "Take care of the girl," Kira choked.

"I will," Lando heard himself say.

"Promise me!" Kira said, letting some of the suffering out. "Don't- Don't let those bastards get her like they got Miles."

"I promise."

Lando shook his head. "No," he said in a quiet voice. "It won't work."

"Promise me!"

"Stop it!" Lando shouted at the Oracle.

"They're your memories, Calrissian," the Oracle said. "They sit so close to the surface..."

"Promise me!" "I promise."

"Crisis of conscience?" the Oracle asked. Lando stepped forward to strangle her, but without so much as a twitch by her he was picked up and hurled away. "She's so young... and it's been some time since I've absorbed the lifeforce of another person."

"Promise me!" "I promise."

"Or I can hand her over to the Empire, if you like," the Oracle mused aloud. "She's already been tried, and convicted, and sentenced. All that is waiting is her execution, and you can be certain it will be handled quickly." Lando screwed his eyes shut, but that did nothing but allow him to see Kira in those last moment, tormented and weak from the years of degradation from the Imperial nerve gas. And in her pain, only one thing on her mind. "That would be fitting. Let the Imperials who murdered her father murder her as well. It bookends things nicely."

"Please..." Lando finally hissed.

"Or you can use this weapon against them," the Oracle said. "Which will it be, hand over Molly, lose your company and all you've worked for... again..."

"Promise me!"

"Or destroy the Empire that killed Kira."

Lando covered his eyes and nearly bit through his lip. Wherever card sharps, gamblers, and scoundrels talked about men with control, he was always on the list, usually near the top. Lando could smile while the sky fell around him and there wouldn't be so much as a hint on his face. But the pressure on his mind was getting to be too much, and old age had taken its toll on the body. It took that legendary self-control not to burst into tears right there on the deck. He'd give in, but he wouldn't give her that satisfaction. "All right," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm in."

There'd been a chase. The bioships must have detected the Borg's tactical cube and decided an engagement was too risky. Long-range sensor readings had given the Borg a few details, but mostly enough solely to whet the appetite. The processing power of the entire Collective was soon put to the task, and finally, after hundreds of light-years of pursuit, one bioship was caught in the range of an interdictor torpedo, one designed to interfere even with the faster-than-light capabilities of those without hyperdrive. It was trapped.

As was expected, a fight broke out.

The bioship lashed out with its heavy weaponry at the Borg. The cube dodged most of them as they approached, the rest striking its armored hull. There was damage, but the Borg lost no time in working to regenerate it. The tactical cube fired off a series of green energy blasts, then three missiles streaked out. Some of the blasts struck, knocking chunks out of the bone-like hull of the bioship. The rockets moved much slower, relatively speaking, but weaved to avoid enemy fire. Still, with time on the bioship's side, even the missiles couldn't evade the sheer amount of return fire. The first and second went up almost at the same time. The third, seconds later, also exploded, but before it actually was reached. Flying out of the debris was a humanoid shape clad in an armored spacesuit. Moments after clearing the wreckage, the jetpack fired and the figure accelerated towards the bioship. "Be aware of your velocity," Two of Six said over the comm. "If you strike at too great-"

"I know, I know," Sebastian said. "Like a bug on a windscreen."

"Remember that if you get too close, we won't be able to transport you to safety," Two of Six said. "Caution is necessary for your survival."

"I know," Sebastian said. That was the whole reason for this, after all. The bioelectric field surrounding these ships interfered with the transporters. It was too dangerous to try to beam directly on board. Fortunately, Sebastian had experience in dealing with these kinds of situations, although never in a ship versus ship scenario. He'd originally volunteered for this reconnaissance mission, but as soon as he saw the Borg's modified missile he had second thoughts. Now, out in the void trying to dodge opposing weapons fire, he declared he was never going to do this again. Then he thought about it and added, even though I'll still be alive. There was no sense in drawing the attention of the irony gods.

The bioship was tracking the rapidly approaching Jedi and fired all weapons at him. He dodged and dipped and spun through space. The shots were all around him, but he moved through them like a witch dancing between raindrops. Still, his teeth were grit, and despite the efforts of the suit sweat saturated his body. "I can't keep this up, Two," he said.

"Are you requesting transport?" Two of Six asked, her voice as devoid of feeling as it always was. The pulverizing of Sebastian was no more an emotional matter than the rerouting of power to optimize the engine efficiency. Not that he wasn't more important, but the Borg felt nothing towards him. "There is still time."

"Can't you do something?" Sebastian asked.

"We have been firing on the bioship, and are beginning to cause significant damage," Two of Six said. "But the bioship seems to have prioritized you as a target."

"They're more interested in stopping me than in defending themselves?!"

"Perhaps stopping you is defending themselves," Two of Six observed. "Knowledge is often a primary element in achieving victory. If-" But she was cut off as, faced with all the blasts coming his way, Sebastian finally was overwhelmed and hit.

Go To Part XVIII
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