Rule of Two

by Dalek IX

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Other, Slice of Life, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 7960

In which Rainbow Dash is being raised by Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

The Republic is dead, and from the ashes the evil Galactic Empire has risen, with the malevolent Emperor Palpatine at its throne. Across the galaxy, Lord Darth Vader hunts down the last of the Jedi, aided by the ruthlessy efficient Stormtroopers of the 501st Legion and the Star Destroyers of the dreaded Death Squadron.

The Conclave on Kessel has failed, and the Jedi have been slain. However, Darth Vader senses something deep within the abandoned mines...

Published 2013-03-26 05:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-25 04:21:38 UTC

Prologue

Deep within an abandoned mine on Kessel, amongst the endless maze of corridors of rock and durasteel and decaying machinery, Darth Vader sensed something. This was most curious since, to his knowledge, the only Force users on the planet –besides himself- were lying dead at his feet.

He stopped, reaching out with the Force, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the Jedi he had missed. The Stormtroopers escorting him stopped as well, turning towards him. He sensed their confusion.

“Sir?” Commander Bow asked.

“There is something else here,” he rumbled idly. The tiny flicker of The Force he had felt was surprisingly difficult to pinpoint.

There!

He set off, cape billowing behind him and his lightsaber already in his remaining hand, the other having been cut off during the previous battle, homing into the tiny flicker of the Force like a missile. He heard a clatter of boots and armor as the Stormtroopers hurried to keep up with his long mechanical stride.

He navigated through the abandoned mine, leaving the areas the Jedi had rehabilitated for their own use. The tunnels were dusty and occasionally littered with machinery or knickknacks left behind when the mine ceased to be profitable. The lights, of which there were few, still had power, though, which was a small blessing.

He reached an unremarkable door, and stopped. At this range, he could now accurately sense the presence behind it. He wondered what it was.

A Padawan perhaps, too weak to participate in the ambush? Or an old, withered Master?

No matter.

The lightsaber ignited, and he stabbed it into the door. The metal was corroded and weak, and it was trivial to cut a reasonably-sized hole in it.

With a mighty shove of the Force, a circular section of the door was thrown inwards, edges glowing red-hot and rapidly cooling. He followed through a second behind, filling the room with his presence. The Stormtroopers were not far behind, blasters at the ready.

It was a storage room or at least, it had been. It was now as decrepit as the rest of the facility, full of dust and decay and rusting supplies. The lightsaber in his hand bathed everything in red, throwing distorted shadows across the room until a switch was found and a lone illuminator flickered to life.

There was no one here, at first glance, only a box on the floor. The sound of his respirator seemed abnormally loud in the silence.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

He approached it slowly, deactivating his lightsaber, his boots crunching on the floor. Kneeling down in front of the box, he opened it.

Inside was a small creature. The Sith Lord had been all over the galaxy, and had seen many different species, but never one like this. It had four stumpy limbs and a pair of small, downy wings on its back. Blue fur covered its body, except on top of it head, the back of its neck and on its tail, where instead it grew in well-defined stripes of every color. Its head was rather large for its size, with a small muzzle, and had big eyes with red irises that looked at him.

There was no fear in those eyes.

He reached with his senses, but immediately came across a problem. Something about this… animal was interfering with the Force. He could see it; the lines of the Force appeared distorted, like a badly calibrated holo. Some species, he knew, could affect the Force in different ways. Some were resistant, others showed an affinity, but he’d never seen one to scramble the Force like this.

He tried harder, the rhythm of his raspy breathing not changing in spite of his exertion, the puzzle of this creature’s abilities challenging him. The animal felt his presence, and was startled, looking around for the source before its eyes settled on him.

At last, he broke through, and lightly touched this creature’s mind.

He was surprised at what he found. Within the mind of this creature was the spark of sapience, of what could soon be a thinking mind. Furthermore, he could feel the Force within it, and it was strong.

More than strong enough to be of use.

He broke the connection, and regarded the creature in front of him. What was it doing here? Had one of the Jedi brought it here to safeguard?

Again, it was no matter.

He rose from his position and turned towards the Stormtroopers that accompanied him. “Commander,” he said, his voice booming, “bring this... creature with us.”

He felt some confusion coming from the clone, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yes sir,” he said, and went over to the box and picked up the creature inside, who protested loudly at his handling, but quieted with a glance from Darth Vader.

Without any further words, Vader tuned around and went back the way he had come, Stormtroopers at his heels. Along the way, Commander Bow found the courage to ask, “Sir... what are we going to do about this... thing?”

“The Force interacts with it in odd ways,” Vader said, his mechanical breathing serving to punctuate his words, “I intend to study it.”

For this creature reminded him of a lesson he had learned long ago, in a past he barely remembered. A lesson he had learned when he was a slave on Tatooine, cobbling machinery together, fixing things and dreaming that he could one day repair the mechanisms of life. It was a lesson he had never forgotten: Only a fool would throw away a tool he did not understand. Not until he was absolutely sure that he couldn’t make any use of it.

And the man who was once Anakin Skywalker was no fool.

Five minutes later, a shuttle departed from the surface of the planet and came into orbit. Fifteen minutes after that, it left Kessel’s gravity well, and jumped into hyperspace.

The box was left behind, the message scrawled onto it unread.

The mousy, spectacled man with the white uniform belonging to the Imperial SciCorps spoke into the pad in his hand, his voice soft.

“This is Doctor Zahnko speaking. At Lord Vader’s request, I have performed a complete medical examination on the subject found on Kessel.”

He looked at the small, blue furred creature currently contained in a crib, its colorful nature clashing with the stark white of the surroundings, and the quiet beeping of machinery. It paced around, pawing at the ground anxiously.

“The subject is a mammalian vertebrate with bilateral symmetry; it has six limbs and a tail, and walks on four, with the remaining pair on its back. It has one head, two eyes, one mouth, and a standard neurochemical and metabolic makeup. Bones are made from calcium, and are hollow. Vertebrae are parallel to the ground, and the head is at the front, with the tail opposite. Head is raised higher from the ground than the body by a neck with seven vertebrae. It weighs 29 kilograms, and stands at 25 centimeters tall measured from the ground to the shoulder and is 32 centimeters long from chest to tail.

“A cursory check has identified its gender as female. Its age is… difficult to determine, although judging from its behavior I can assume it is a youngling.

The doctor paused to check his notes on the Pad, and resumed his monologue.

“The four limbs used for locomotion are hooved, and the ones at the front show a surprising movement range. The two limbs on the back are similar to avian wings, but each contains three extremely slender digits disguised as feathers. They also show a surprising movement range.

“It is covered in blue fur, and on the tail, back of the neck and top of the head, this fur grows longer and in multiple colors. Colors are separate, with no mixing between them. There is a sigil on both hindquarters: a stylized drawing of a cloud with a multicolored bolt of lightning striking from it. Sigil is not dyed; rather, the fur grows that way.

“Subject species… does not appear on any record,” he said, his face contorting into a frown, “I have determined that it is sapient, and the brain cavity suggests it will have at least human-level intelligence when mature. It is mostly herbivorous, and the eyes are optimized for binocular vision, although they are quite large.”

He fiddled with the Pad to go to the next page of notes and continued talking.

“The wings and bone structure suggest that it will have flight capability, which would justify the binocular vision, but the body shape is far from aerodynamic, and the wings are too small although the latter might just be due to its young age. Furthermore, the fur and down are highly insulating, which suggests it is cold-weather adapted, but the hooves are not built for snowy climates.”

He glanced at the creature that was now looking at him with big, red eyes.

“Its midichlorian count is very high. Definitely Force sensitive, but I’ll leave the evaluation of that to Lord Vader.”

The creature cooed at him. He continued to ignore it.

The doctor scratched his chin. “As to its origins...” he said, “I have two theories. One is that this creature was found by the Jedi in the Unknown Regions and was brought to Kessel. It would explain why there is no record of its kind, but does not explain why it has certain features, such as that glyph, which makes no sense from an evolutionary standpoint. The coloration is also an oddity.

“Then again, the glyph and color scheme might have been something artificially induced in its species’ past. Perhaps they implemented some sort of caste system using genetic manipulation, with the status of a family line forever on display? Or maybe it’s a way to keep track of bloodlines?

“A second theory would be that this creature was manufactured,” he said, although from the slight frown on his face one could tell that he wasn’t very keen on the idea, “this would explain most things, but the technology and expertise to produce a completely new species is incredibly regulated and classified. Only Kamino would have the capability to produce a creature like this, without any health defects or aberrations, but there is no record of them doing so. Furthermore, the endeavors of making a completely new species from scratch would make such a project impossible to conceal.”

He paused his recording and tapped in some corrections to his report. Satisfied, he un-paused.

“That’ll be it for today,” he finished. He clicked off the recorder on the Pad, and was turning to leave when he heard a chilling noise directly behind him.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

He immediately spun around, coming face to face with a complicated-looking life support system. He had to take a stumbling step back and crane his heck in order to face its owner.

“Lord Vader!” he gasped, feeling as if someone had just replaced his blood with coolant, “I-I… I’ve finished giving the creature a medical evaluation, as you ordered. She’s in perfectly good health, with no sign of disease or deformity,” he held up the pad, as if it might serve as some sort of shield, “I have the full report right-“

Without a word, Lord Vader snatched the device from his hands and started to read it, his mood inscrutable behind his black mask.

“-here.” Zahnko finished lamely. Wisely, he remained silent while Vader read his report, trying not to sweat or fidget. As if the Sith Lord’s reputation wasn’t enough the man was incredibly imposing. A tall, black presence that filled whatever room he happened to be in and could clear chaotic hangars without having to do so much as breathe.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

“What were you doing, just now?”

Vader’s voice, a booming mechanical bassoon, made Zahnko jump. The Sith Lord wasn’t even looking in his direction, but he could feel his attention being directed his way.

“I-I was reading my report out loud, Lord Vader,” he stammered, “it helps me correct errors in the redaction, and add things I might’ve forgotten.”

Vader said nothing, and continued to say nothing for what felt for like the longest minutes in doctor Zahnko’s life while he read what was written on the Pad. Finally, he thrust the device back at him.

“Gather your things,” the Sith Lord boomed, “I have requisitioned you to serve as this creature’s personal physician. You will have no other duties, unless I allow it.”

Zahnko gulped. “Yes Lord Vader,” he said.

“Your reports will be kept confidential. You will not speak of them to anyone except me. Failure to do this will not be tolerated.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.”

“Lo’ Vadah!” the creature squeaked from its crib, causing both men to look at it.

Vader cocked his head a millimeter to the side, his gaze centered on the tiny creature. Wordlessly, he approached it, the only sounds audible in the room being the thud of his boots and the mechanical breathing of his life support system.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

Vader was so tall he had to bend down considerably to pick up the creature from his crib in his massive hands. The little creature squeaked at being seized, and was brought up to face level.

The creature wiggled its forelimbs in the general direction of Vader’s faceplate.

“Vadah!” it said.

“Is it normal,” the Dark Lord asked, “for something so young to be talking already?”

“Well, her exact age is unknown, but it’s common for herbivores, particularly herd-based ones, do develop quickly during the first months or years of life,” Zahnko answered, still not quite believing the sight in front of him, “In some species, if the newborn cannot walk within five minutes, it is simply abandoned.”

Vader nodded, seemingly pleased with this tidbit of information.

“I shall call you… Spectra,” he boomed at the child in his grasp.

“You will make a fine apprentice.”

Chapter 1

====================

It was dark in Vader’s chambers aboard the ISD Exactor. Not only was the lighting significantly dim, but every conceivable surface had been painted in midnight black. Dominating the main chamber was a large, spherical hyperbaric pod, which was currently closed. Before it stood a tall, dark figure, seemingly a piece of shadow brought to life.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

“Enter,” Vader rumbled, and the door to his chambers opened, letting a much smaller figure inside.

She was a young quadruped with wings on her back. Her fur was blue, except for the top of her head, back of her neck and braided tail, where it grew in every color of the rainbow. Her body was covered in dark, loose-fitting clothes. Her red eyes were filled with barely concealed excitement.

She couldn’t have been more than six years old. On her four hooves, her head just might brush the average human’s knee. Reared up on her hind legs, her head would be at waist height. The wings on her back were still not even close to fully developed, but just last week she had managed to hover for a full minute, much to everyone’s surprise.

Spectra approached her master, and knelt before him, sweeping a wing in front of her. “I came as you ordered, my lord,” she said.

“Rise,” Vader commanded, and Spectra complied immediately. “I’ve been told that you have been performing well in your other lessons,” he commented, circling his apprentice, “with the sole exception of politics.”

Spectra barely suppressed a wince. She’d forgotten about that. Her master only intervened in anything related to her other lessons when she did something really bad, like putting the really hot sauce in her math teacher’s shampoo.

Vader had stopped, and was now standing right next to her, looming over her.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

“Care to explain?”

“It’s just… It’s just pointless,” she blurted out, “Why do I need to know about the family history of some nobles from some planet I’ve never even heard of? Or about some stupid old guys from Coruscant who I don’t even know what their job means, or why some guy is going to become Moff and another isn’t, or-?”

“Enough.”

A part of Spectra told her to keep talking, but common sense triumphed, and she held her tongue. Interrupting her master was bad; not as bad as lying to him, but still bad.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

“The reason why you have those lessons,” Lord Vader explained, “is to prepare you for when I send you to perform tasks through the galaxy. Knowing how the nobility of a planet works can be vital to the success of a mission; often, an uprising or act of treason can be halted simply by removing the leader or their supporters.”

“I still don’t like it,” Spectra insisted.

“You don’t have to,” Darth Vader retorted, and continued to circle around her, “you only have to learn, and from now on I expect you to take all your lessons seriously, or there will be consequences,” he stopped right in front of Spectra, “Am I clear?”

For a few seconds, Spectra held his gaze, and then bowed her head.

“Yes, master.”

Vader nodded. “Good,” he said, “now, we shall begin today’s lessons with me.”

===================

There is something wrong here. By all accounts, Lord Vader’s apprentice should not be capable of flight at this stage in her development. Her wingspan is far too short for that.

Yet, today she hovered. I’ve checked with his Lordship, and whatever it is she’s using, it’s not the Force.

I discussed this with Lord Vader, and we’ve agreed that it must be linked to the way the Force interacts with her. His Lordship’s put the theory that whatever “It” is, it creates some sort of natural repulsor field to allow her to fly. My own theory is that it increases her wing’s ability to create lift, a sort of “virtual wingspan”.

I’m not sure if I want to be right.

====================

We’ve run some tests. They were thoroughly inconclusive.

With his Lordship’s, ah, assistance, we had Spectra hover in laboratory conditions. The downdraft generated by her wings is quite a bit larger than it should be, but it’s not enough to account for the fact that she can fly.

I don’t know where Lord Vader obtained a repulsor field detector, especially on such short notice. From the rumors I’ve been hearing regarding his Lordship, he probably made the device himself. At any rate, it is quite functional even though it only works at short range, but even so it failed to detect anything except static.

Blood samples show an increased metabolic consumption during flight, far greater that muscle action can account for, which only raises more questions.

As a matter of fact, the only thing we’ve managed to conclude is that whatever it is that interferes with the Force is more active when she is flying, so we can conclude that they are, indeed, one and the same. Hypothetically, this would grow stronger as she grows older and becomes more capable of flight, which poses a problem.

As you can imagine, Lord Vader’s interests in the child stem from her Force-sensitivity. However, if this unknown effect continues to grow, it might drown it out in the process, leaving her useless to Vader, or at the very least less useful.

And Lord Vader has a strong hatred for useless things.

I don’t know if Spectra has realized this, but she’s certainly noticed Vader’s mood has changed. Nevertheless, she’s taking her instruction in the Force quite seriously. One has to admire her determination to succeed.

I hope it’s enough.

===================

“Death or Glory”, might as well have been the motto (and indeed, the name) of the flagship of the Imperial Navy. Such sentiments extended to include the training room where Darth Vader and his apprentice now stood. It was quite large, with blue padded mats spread on the floor, and well lit. The walls were painted a familiar white, and several racks of melee weapons were built into the walls, from relatively harmless training staves to Force Pikes.

As Spectra’s master had drilled into her, time and time again, you either succeeded, or you failed. There was no middle ground, no room for half-and-halves or half measures or partial successes. Either you did it or you didn’t.

Today’s task was a simple one.

“Do not get hit by the incoming projectiles,” Spectra’s master had told her. He’d also shown her what she was supposed to be dodging; small, brittle plastic balls filled with red paint fired from a hovering droid.

It sounded about as easy as hitting the broadside of a Hutt. That is, it had, until a strip of cloth was tied over her eyes.

Still, how hard could it be?

*Thud!*

In ways of an answer, the first projectile hit her square on the nose. She cried out at the sudden pain, jumping back. That had hurt!

“Ow!”

Before she had time to so much as gather her wits, then next projectile hit her, this time in the back of her head.

It’s so on.

She lowered herself into a crouch, pawing at the ground with her front legs, ears folded back, tail swishing and wings ruffling. She tried to listen for any sound-

*Thud!*

“Ow!”

Spectra bolted in a random direction, hoping to evade the droid through speed alone. She felt several balls brush her fur, much to her satisfaction.

Her joy was short-lived, as she then ran headfirst into a wall.

*Crack!*

“Argh!”

Her vision exploded, and she collapsed to the floor, dazed. To add insult to injury, another projectile hit her back.

A few moments later, she was back on her feet, undaunted.

“The purpose of this exercise,” her master’s voice boomed, “is for you to use the Force to predict when the projectiles will be fired, and react accordingly.”

Oh.

Why… why hadn’t she thought of that?

She tried to expand her senses, to break through the walls of interference surrounding her and feel the Force as her master had shown her… but couldn’t.

Spectra shook her head, and grit her teeth, furious at her weakness. Fueled by her anger, she reached inwards and pushed against the stupid, accursed shell surrounding her, but today, it might as well have been made of durasteel.

More projectiles ended her concentration, forcing her to take evasive maneuvers to buy herself time.

Okay, let’s try this again.

====================

By the time her master deemed to end the exercise, Spectra was bruised and battered, and her clothes and coat were plastered with red paint. At one point, the speed of the plastic balls had increased significantly, along with the pain they produced.

She hadn’t managed to doge more than a dozen of them.

The blindfold was roughly torn off, and Spectra staggered back, looking up at the looming figure of her master.

*Whoooo-kaaah*

“I will leave you to reflect upon your failure,” Vader rumbled, his displeasure palpable, “come back to me when you have improved”.

Without another word, he turned, his cape billowing behind him, and left.

====================

Spectra looked at the mirror. It was at floor height, just like the rest of the things in the refresher. Otherwise, she never would’ve been able to get to it.

She shied away from the image, furious and ashamed. Battered, covered in paint and bruises, with a black eye and disheveled hair, she looked pathetic.

She sniffled, and started peeling off her clothes. Then, she tossed them aside into a bucket and entered the sonic shower and turned it on, nosing the appropriate button.

The sonic emitters blasted the paint from her coat and hair, and soothed her bruises, but did little to improve her mood. Her failure hung over her like a Star Destroyer.

Once she was clean, she turned the shower off. On her way out of the refresher, she passed by the mirror again.

Spectra paused, before suddenly exploding into action. She twisted around, reared up on her hind legs and brought a foreleg down into the offending mirror.

With a resounding and satisfying noise, the mirror cracked into multiple pieces, but didn’t break. Her frustration thus partially assuaged, she dressed herself with the clean robes she had hung from a hook on the wall earlier on and returned to her quarters.

Colored in a dark grey, her room was nearly bare. All it had was a bed, a dresser, and a mat lying in the center.

The bed looked inviting. She ignored it, instead sitting down on the mat, spreading her wings half-way and closing her eyes.

Sleep could wait. She had a lot of practice to do.

Experimentally, she pushed at the interference around her with the Force. As always, there was resistance before she broke through and felt her surroundings, seeing the slightly fuzzy lines that spread out to connect everything together.

Spectra frowned. During today’s session, that barrier of interference had seemed as solid as a bulkhead. Now, it was as more like a thin sheet of plastic. Not even that, really.

What was going on? What was she missing?

Her mind jumped back to her training session, to the feel of her heart pounding and her mind put on a hair trigger by adrenalin.

She snapped her eyes open and pulled her wings closed, before springing back onto her feet and stalking out of her quarters, the door opening before her.

With a newfound purpose to her stride, she navigated the hallways of the Star Destroyer, back to the training room where her failure had taken place.

Sleep could wait.

====================

Spectra hadn’t been completely surprised to see that the doors to the training room had been locked. Her master, after all, was testing her, and it wasn’t merely a test of the abilities he had deigned to say he was testing.

Lucky for her, she had learned a few tricks regarding the doors here. Like what the override code was.

She flapped her wings, and slowly rose from the ground to the same level as the door control panel. Her tongue sticking out, she reached out with a forelimb and pressed the appropriate sequence of buttons.

2-2-8-8-4-6-4-6-1-0-Enter.

With a high-pitched beep, the door slid open. She dropped to the ground and hurried inside, locking the door behind her and lighting the luminators.

At some point after the day’s lesson, this chamber had been cleaned. The only evidence of what had happened was a strip of cloth hung on one of the racks and the droid, lying in the corner, deactivated.

With some considerable difficulty, she got the cloth off the rack and tied it into a blindfold. Then, she went to the corner where the droid laid and, with the minimum amount of hassle, turned it on.

The despicable ball of bolts sprang to life, leaping into the air and hovering around Spectra.

She breathed in, exhaled, put on the blindfold, and pushed her senses past her interference.

“Start exercise,” she intoned, and heard the droid start to move. Spectra, for once, actually managed to dodge the first shots, knowing when and from where they were going to come and jumping out of the way. After that, the interference quickly grew too oppressive for her and reduced her senses to uselessness, at which point she became just as effective as last time.

“Ow! Oof! Gah! Hey!”

Fifteen minutes in, and she was a mess again, covered in paint and bruises. She stopped the exercise, waited until the interference had reduced itself to more manageable levels, and tried again.

“Start exercise,” she intoned, and once again pushed her senses through, this time concentrating on pushing her interference away.

Sleep could wait. She had all night to figure this out.

Once again, Spectra felt the droid move and fire. Just like the last time, she dodged the first shot, sidestepping it. She jerked her head away from the path of the second, ducked under the third and leapt up to avoid the fourth.

She clenched her teeth together as her interference started to choke her senses to close in. She galloped, turned away from a wall at the very last moment and rolled to avoid the fifth shot.

She had to concentrate so much on keeping her senses open that the sixth and seventh shots hit her, in the chest and just over the brow; she managed to stumble away from the eighth.

By then, she was blind to the Force again, and the droid had considerably less trouble hitting her.

“Ow! Oof! Augh!”

Three hard, plastic balls hit her chest, two her head, one grazed her ear, another left wing…

Fifteen minutes later, she had only succeeded in accumulating more bruises.

She sat down on the ground, suppressing the urge to nurse her injuries. Doing so would be to show weakness, and she wasn’t weak.

Lord Vader would be disappointed if she were weak.

She pushed the blindfold off her eyes, and turned her head around to look at herself. Her clothes were slathered in red paint a flecked by plastic fragments. She hadn’t improved in the slightest.

Weak.

Spectra shook her head violently. She was not weak! She couldn’t be weak! She was the Dark Acolyte of Darth Vader! She was strong in the Dark Side of the Force!

And she would prove it.

She glared at the droid floating above her. She snorted, and felt her tail flick in annoyance and her ears fold flat against her skull. She stood, and started walking around it. She was about to start the exercise again before she stopped herself.

She might have all night, but she couldn’t just waste it doing the same stupid thing all over again. She could almost hear her master or Dr. Zahnko chastising her not stopping to think.

Think, Spectra, think!

Well, what she was doing was definitely not working, which meant she was doing something wrong, or not doing something she was supposed to. She knew she could go straight through her interference when she wanted… and when she was sitting still. But anytime she moved, it grew thicker and more difficult to see through. It choked her senses and blocked her off, leaving her blind.

So… she could either not move –which sounded like a ridiculous idea- or she could make it so that it would be harder for her interference to block her.

What if there was some way to make it stop?

She closed her eyes, and reached out with the Force. She felt her surroundings, the way the Force connected everything around her. But this time, she felt herself.

It was… very weird. So much that she nearly recoiled. It was almost like looking in a mirror, except you were seeing something you had never seen before, but instantly knew what it was.

Seen through the Force, Spectra saw herself; a swirling, spinning thing. Like a… Like a…

Like a storm.

She had no idea where the word came from, and only the dimmest idea on what it meant, but it seemed to suit her.

And there was something else there too. She felt her own interference, that fuzzy layer around herself.

…Could she?

She reached at that layer of interference and tried to pull it off. Much to her disappointment, it was trying to hold onto a Holden coupling; it numbed her senses to the point she almost lost them.

But, now she knew she could do something to it.

She started to experiment with it. Pushing and prodding at that detestable layer through the Force. To compress it or peel it off; to do anything that would get rid of it to little effect.

She changed tactics. What if she tried blocking it off at the source? She retreated inside her shell and started pushing against it, feeling where it was thickest.

It was painstaking work, like exercise at 3g’s. She had no idea how much time she’d spent sitting there, looking for something that might not even exist, but it was a lot.

She was about to give up when she felt something, a part of her that was particularly dense with interference. She only had a glimpse of it before she was shut out, but she’d found it.

There!

She reached for it, but her touch slipped off and dissipated.

She growled, and tried again, with the same result. Why can’t things ever be easy!?, she fumed.

She tried again, and failed again. Anger rose within her. She stroked her anger until it was hot, until she felt it about to burst from her chest. And then, with that anger, she fueled her next attempt.

She cut through her interference like a fusion cutter through ice, reached the source grabbed hold of it and squeezed-

The world went white.

When she next came to, she was on the floor, lying on her side. She felt cold, a sensation that started in her chest and spread through the rest of her. She was drenched in sweat, and felt as if she’d just ran from stern to prow.

She felt hollow.

She tried to get up, and found her limbs unwilling, merely twitching in response. She kept on trying, cursing and damning her weakness. Deep within her, deeper than her physical body seemed to reach, she felt something stir.

“Get up,” she mumbled.

The thing, the storm she had seen earlier, started to make itself be heard. She felt it move and grow in power, filling the newfound void.

“Get up,” she muttered.

The storm rumbled. It spun about its axis, faster and faster.

“Get up!” she hissed.

The storm roared. It grew larger and it spun faster, and flashed great bolts of energy that coursed through her body. Her limbs twitched, and then started to move, to obey her commands.

With cry of exertion, she rose to her feet, her legs quivering but holding her up. The storm roared and raged within her and it filled her being in a way that just felt right. She felt the strength it gave her, coursing through her muscle and sinew like electricity.

She looked at the training droid, her irises ringed with yellow.

She extended her senses, and this time, while the resistance remained, it was remarkably easier to pass through it. The blindfold was slipped over her head, robbing her of her sight.

“Start exercise,” she intoned.

The hateful little ball chirped.

For a moment, there was near-complete silence in the training room. Nothing save for the distant humming of the machinery that kept the Star Destroyer alive.

Then, she felt it. A warning through the Force, a sudden image of a small plastic ball heading right for her head.

She jerked her head to the left, letting a projectile pass just shy of it. She dropped down to the ground, feeling the passing air of another. She leapt up, fell to her feet, stumbled and darted forward. She ran, zigzagging as per what her senses were telling her.

And this time the interference did not choke them. It was still undeniably there, but it had been reduced significantly.

Five shots missed their mark. Then six, then eight, then ten and then twenty. She stumbled, her suddenly weakened body betraying her and costing her two new welts, but she recovered and soldiered on.

Fifteen minutes later, the fusillade ceased and she allowed herself to collapse on the floor, shaking and panting.

“Evasion rate, sixty percent,” she head a tinny mechanical voice say after a minute, which made her jump back to her feet, “Exercise failed.”

It took a moment for her mind to process what the drone had said. Before she knew it, she was back on her feet, the blindfold had been pulled up and she was glaring at it.

“What!?” she demanded.

“Exercise failed,” the droid repeated, “an evasion rate lower than ninety percent is considered unsatisfactory. Lower than twenty percent is not worth mentioning.”

There was another brief moment where her exhausted mind went completely blank as it processed what had just been said. When she was done, her response was to cry out towards the deck above.

“OH, COME ON!!”

She seethed and raged. Despite everything, she hadn’t been good enough.

Not good enough. Never good enough-

No! She silenced that thought before it could fester. She could do this; this was the simplest of all exercises, and she finally had the power to do so in her grasp. To fail here was simply inconceivable.

She would not leave this room until she passed!

Spectra let her anger flow through her, a feeling much like an electric current flowed through her, soothing her aches and bruises and bringing her strength.

She pulled the blindfold over her eyes again. “Start exercise,” she hissed.

====================

“Evasion rate, sixty three percent. Exercise failed.”

Spectra stamped her hooves on the durasteel deck. That had barely been better than before!

“Start exercise!” she said.

“Evasion rate, sixty eight percent. Exercise failed.”

That was… marginally better, in Spectra’s opinion. She still had quite a way to go, but she was definitely improving.

But not fast enough.

Spectra pawed at the ground in thought. Maybe if she-…

Hmmm…

“Start exercise,” She said. She had an idea

====================

This time, the droid didn’t say anything. Feeling the numerous welts and bruises she had gained, Spectra didn’t have any trouble seeing why.

“Worst. Idea. Ever,” she ground out, “Start exercise!”

=====================

“Evasion rate, sixty seven percent. Exercise failed.”

Spectra spat out the remains of a particularly unfortunate shot and cried out in frustration. She was going nowhere. She had everything she needed, and still she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Start exercise!” she barked.

====================

“Evasion rate, seventy percent. Exercise failed.”

That had been better, but, again, not by much. Spectra was about to give the command to start the exercise all over again when she stopped herself.

Hadn’t she just been in this same situation? Quite recently, in fact?

She was going somewhere, sure, but it was like trying to scrub a Star Destroyer with a toothbrush. She’d be finished eventually, but only after a couple of lifetimes.

She pressed a hoof against her temple. Think!

Spectra felt her knees start to shake, before another dark flare of power from the storm stilled them.

Maybe I can… maybe…no, that’s what I tried last time….

What would Master do?

Spectra thought back to how she’d seen her master show his… well, mastery, over the Force. Quieting fear and dread with but a glance, lifting worthless fools by the neck and eliminating them with but a gesture…

She paused.

Can I?

No, she’d already demonstrated that she couldn’t simply halt the projectiles in the air. But maybe she didn’t have to stop them. Maybe…

An idea came into being.

“Start exercise!”

Once again, the little droid sprang into motion. Once again, she started dodging.

And, once again, her body betrayed her.

As Spectra zigzagged through the droid’s fire, she stumbled and nearly fell over. She recovered, of course, but it earned her a couple of direct hits and several grazing ones. She soldiered on, but by now she’d been at this for more than two hours. She was tiring, and she could feel it.

Soon she found herself being backed into a corner. The droid advanced, bracketing her with shots, keeping her from getting away from it. The droid slowly hovered closer, and if she didn’t know that such things were impossible she could’ve sworn it was enjoying this.

Sensing that the droid was about to fire, she reached through the Force, and flung it at the droid, jerking a wing in its direction.

When her master had first tried to teach her to use the Force, one of the very earliest lessons had been in telekinesis, to move things without touching them. Her master had been so disappointed in her when she’d failed to so much as move a sheet of paper, in spite of her efforts. Her grip simply vanished, lost into fuzzy nothingness, her commands muffled and absorbed by the stupid interference she generated.

Now, however…

Now Spectra told the Force what to do, and it obeyed her.

The droid was pushed. It wasn’t a particularly strong push; in fact, a similar effect could be obtained by slapping it. But it was enough to ruin its aim.

The projectile meant for her face hit the wall to her left. The droid gave a rather surprised sounding chirp and Spectra quickly took advantage of the distraction to dart under it and towards the other side of the room. She felt the droid firing several more rounds in her direction, but she was able to avoid being hit.

Spectra heard a weird noise as she ran. It took a second or so to for her to realize that she was the one making it.

She was laughing.

She was still laughing when she reached the opposite end of the room. Her laughter subsided and turned into a giggle as she turned around to face the droid.

The droid chirruped. Despite being a faceless ball, it managed to look completely surprised.

Spectra smiled. It wasn’t a very nice smile; it was just a little too wide and the edges didn’t quite reach the eyes, which were giving a fearsome glare, the irises glowing a sickly yellow. She felt darkness –no, power– swirl around her like a tempest. Surrounding her, making her feel invulnerable. Untouchable.

“My turn,” she said, and charged forwards. The droid opened fire in an attempt to force her away, but she simply wove around where the shots would fall, some of them just grazing her clothes.

When she was close enough, she launched herself into the air, and pulled, making the droid jerk downwards just enough for her to reach it.

Spectra’s body hit the droid with enough speed to force the air out of her lungs. The surface was smooth, with few places to find purchase, but she managed, just barely. The youngling had been hit with an idea, one born of a few lessons on droids and their workings.

Had she known a bit more, she would’ve known that it was a terrible idea.

Rather than sit still, as she thought it would, the droid responded to her actions by shaking itself violently. Spectra yelped, and struggled to keep her tenuous grip on the droid, but it was not enough. Her hooves slipped, and she was thrown off. Thankfully, she managed to right herself in the air and land on her legs.

A different idea came to her. She lifted a hoof, and pulled one of the practice weapons hung on the wall leap out of its rack, a short, thick, heavy metal stick. Howling, she threw it towards the droid with all her strength.

The baton hit the droid with a loud crack as its sensors were destroyed from the impact. It shrieked a mechanical call of distress, jerking around randomly, the sound satisfying and beautiful to Spectra’s ears.

She swung the stick again. And again. And again. There was no finesse to her blows, no refinement or form. Just pure, simple, naked aggression. She clobbered the droid until it’s casing cracked, then until it’s repulsors were knocked out of alignment, then until its weapon came off, and finally stopped when it ceased to shriek.

The stick clattered to the ground. Spectra was panting, her body trembling with effort. Her clothes were wet with sweat, and were peppered by paint. Her coat was in disarray and her mane and tail twice as much. Her eyes were wild and pupils small.

Her mouth was pulled up into a smile.

She laughed. Softly, and shortly, but a laugh nonetheless.

She thought she should be saying something. The descriptors “cool” and “awesome” came to mind from somewhere and she tried to think of something that would fit them.

She was still thinking when the floor rose up to meet her, and the world went black.

====================

When Spectra came to, she half-expected for her to still be on the padded mats of the training room. She was therefore confused when what she was laying on proved to be more comfortable.

She threw off the covers and winced at the painful throbbing that caused. In fact, her entire body felt as if it had been put through a compressor; every movement caused some sort of pain or discomfort.

“Ow,” she said, and part of her brain seethed that she would have to show such weakness. The rest of her brain felt like that part should shut up.

She was in the infirmary, a place very familiar to her, lying on one of the beds. A tube, running from a bottle of clear fluid hanging from a stand and ending in a needle, was jammed into her left foreleg, with white tape securing it.

She felt a presence nearby, and turned her head to the left to look at a very displeased-looking Doctor Zahnko.

“I have no idea what you did to yourself,” he said, his eyes boring into her, and Spectra could feel the quiet fury coming from him, “But, as your physician, I recommend that you never do that again.”

Spectra shrunk slightly. She was familiar with this tone of voice, reserved only for when she’d done something really stupid.

“Yes sir,” she said, knowing better than to argue with the doctor.

“Four weeks,” Zahnko snapped, “You were unconscious for four weeks. We had to keep you on life support for the first three days, because whatever you did made your organs start to fail. I had to re-start your heart twice, once when you were in the bacta tank. It is nothing short of a miracle that you are still alive!”

“…Sorry?” Spectra offered.

Zahnko glared at her for a few more moments, before the hostility Spectra felt from him slackened. The doctor’s gaze softened, and he sighed.

“Just… I understand that this is taking you a lot of effort,” he said, “and it’s not like I can tell you to simply stop, but please, remember that you have limits.”

Spectra broke eye contact. “I know,” she said.

For a few seconds, neither of them said a thing. Zahnko then coughed, and started giving her instructions.

“You’ll be staying in bed for a week,” he told her, “you’re allowed to leave to bathe and use the restroom, but otherwise you’ll be staying put. And I do not want you doing anything intensive for two more weeks after that, no excuses.”

“But-!” Spectra started to argue. Then Zahnko glared at her, and she stopped arguing.

The doctor picked up a datapad from one of the tables there, and started writing on it. After a minute or so, Spectra spoke again.

“Doctor Zahnko…where’s my master?” she asked.

Zahnko stopped what he was doing and looked at her, biting his lip. “Lord Vader has been summoned by the Emperor,” he said, “I’m not sure when he will be back.”

Spectra felt herself deflate. “Oh,” she said, “did he… say anything? About me?”

“Yes,” Zahnko answered, after a short pause, “He was the one who brought you here, when you fell. He told me that, while he would prefer it that you not be so reckless, he found your tenacity to be, and I quote, “most impressive”.”

“Really?” Spectra asked, “He said that?”

Zahnko put a hand over his chest, “Have I ever lied to you?” he asked.

Spectra found herself beaming with pride.

“Now, sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

She was still smiling when sleep claimed her.

Author's Note

In the end, astonishingly little was needed to actually finish this chapter.

I'm really sorry it took so long. I hope it was worth the wait!