Disclaimer: Star Wars - Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy
belongs to Lucas Arts. Ranma 1/2 belongs to Rumiko
Takahashi and Viz Video. 

A Star Wars-Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy/Ranma 1/2
Crossover 

Necessary Fic information and timeline:

For Star Wars, this fic takes place eleven years after
Return of the Jedi.

Ranmaverse timeline doesn't exist, as this is a
merging of the two universes.

The Jedi of Chaos 

Chapter 0 (version 1.00)
Arrival. Ambush!

An old, battered New Republic shuttlecraft traveled
through the silent void of space towards the planet
Yavin. 

"We'll be arriving at the Academy in around ten
minutes."

At the pilot's announcement, several of his passengers
let out sighs of relief.  A few made their feelings
known by saying 

"Finally!" and "It's about time!"  

Of course, sixteen hours of flight with not even a
holovid for entertainment meant sixteen hours of sheer
boredom.  For the 
most part, the mood change within the shuttlecraft was
nearly palpable; a sense of anxiety and excitement
perked up their 
spirits and started a bit of fidgeting for some of
them.

One of them, twenty year old Rosh Penin, was quite
relieved when he heard the news.  

"That would be so great," he stated.  "I've been going
stir-crazy over here!  Make it quick, will ya?"  He
yawned and stretched, wincing as he worked out the
kinks in his spine.  During the long flight he had
attempted to get some sleep, but unfortunately had
failed miserably. 

It was just that the craft itself was an older model,
over fifteen years in service if Rosh had read the
registration plaque 
correctly.  And with its age came various ......
inconveniences.  

Nothing life threatening to be sure, but nonetheless
all of them combined served to make the trip almost
impossible to tolerate.  

For starters, the old junk's seats weren't reclinable,
making it very difficult to sleep.  And their padding
was nearly worn 
out; Rosh could feel the hard, unyielding metal of the
frame beneath.  He found himself occasionally shifting
about to 
relieve the uncomfortable pressure against his
buttocks.  

Another nuisance were the buffers that were supposed
to dampen the roar produced by the engines. 
'Supposed' being the operational word; Rosh was of the
opinion that the damned things hadn't been properly
maintained in years.  As a consequence, 
an irritating, constant rumble was felt and heard from
both sides of the shuttle and interfered with any of
his attempts to rest.  

There were more but Rosh chose not to think about
them; it would've been just a further waste of time. 
Instead, he began to 
think about the events that had pointed him in the
direction of Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy on Yavin
IV.  

Two weeks ago, he had been in the middle of fulfilling
a childhood dream of his; joining the New Republic
Army.  Already 
lean, fit, and possessing an athletic build, Rosh knew
that any headstart he had on the physically grueling
demands of military basic training would help achieve
that goal.  
 
He had just gotten the military crewcut when the next
step of the registration process threw him a curveball
which forever changed his life.  

When Luke Skywalker first conceived of the idea for
rebuilding the Jedi Order, he had undergone thorough
and exhaustive research in order to direct his search
for potential disciples.  In the process of doing so,
he had come across an Imperial Intelligence device
which he discovered had been used in hunting down Jedi
Knights.  It worked by scanning an individual to find
out if he or she possessed an affinity for the Force. 
The Empire had used it to wipe out the old Jedi Order,
but Skywalker intended to use it to help rebuild the
new one.  

So, with the cooperation of the New Republic's
government, Luke had incorporated it within the
Military Academy's registration process.  

Like the rest of his fellow passengers, Rosh had been
found to be Force sensitive.  Some stern looking Jedi
by the name of Kam Solusar had given him the option of
learning how to harness his Force potential at the
Jedi Academy.  After a few days of 
serious deliberation, Rosh had finally accepted it.  

Being Force sensitive was something about himself he
had never suspected.  Looking over his life, Rosh was
able to perceive 
many subtle clues, but since they had just been that,
subtle, he'd either ignored or misinterpreted them
entirely.

As a child, his reflexes were extremely quick, even
much quicker than those older than he was.  He had
taken great pride in that.  When his age hit the
double digits, Rosh became slowly aware that he was
unusually perceptive and intuitive for someone his
age.  

Somehow, he could always tell when a person was
twisting the truth or outright lying to him.  Hidden
meanings and the subtle 
nuances of body language required a bit more work, but
experience soon made interpreting them as easy as
spitting.  

Up until now, Rosh had never fancied himself a Jedi,
scouring evil from the galaxy.  He'd always wanted to
be a soldier, or 
if not that, a fighter pilot.  Thus, he'd no
preconceptions of what he faced ahead.  That Solusar
character only gave him a 
brief overview of the type of training he would
receive at the Jedi Temple as well as a summary of the
purpose of the Jedi 
Order.  The only other information Rosh had was the
occasional holocast on the History of Coruscant
channel, as well as the 
rare interview of Luke Skywalker.  

When the shuttlecraft had picked him up, the first
thing he did after lift-off was to get a look at the
prospective Jedi students that he would be living and
studying beside with.  

Other than himself, there were three humans onboard
while the rest were sentient aliens.  To pass the
time, Rosh had taken a 
closer look at them.  

He'd noted with great interest three female Twi-leks,
two of who seemed to be a couple, judging by their
close snuggling.  

The third however had chosen the farthest seat as far
away as possible from them, a clear expression of
disgust on her face.  
It had been readily obvious to him that she did not
approve of her two fellow Twi-leks relationship.  

There was also a single Rodian who, in his opinion,
had looked homesick.  Rosh couldn't decide whether to
feel pity or amusement, then forgot about it as he
caught sight of two Kel-dor males.  Their faces look
like something out of his worst 
nightmares as a child.  It looked as if some black,
crab-like parasite had forcibly attached itself to the
lower halves of 
their faces. It made a shiver go up his spine, and
Rosh had to consciously fight the urge to cringe
whenever he happened to 
glance their way.  

The only one of them had been and still was asleep
ever since Corsuscant was the lone female Zabrak. 
Aside from volume of 
her snoring, there was little else of interest about
her.   

As for the other humans...

One of them, an older man with graying hair at the
temples near the front didn't rate more than a few
seconds of Rosh's time. 

The second, a black-haired guy with a small ponytail,
sat in Rosh's row a few seats away from him.  Yet so
far, he'd acted 
as if Rosh didn't exist.  Well that was okay, Rosh had
decided to return the favor and ignored him in return.
 

It turned out to be quite easy to do so, especially
since there was a pleasant distraction in the form of
an extremely attractive red-head with the most vibrant
hair color he'd ever seen.  She had lovely brown eyes
and for some reason, Rosh found himself looking quite
intently at her, silently drinking in her beauty and
trying vainly to gather up the courage to go and talk
to her. 

But even that soon lost its appeal.  Bored again, and
lacking anything else better to do, Rosh took the
opportunity to try 
and get a response from his standoffish seatmate.

He began complaining out loud about the shuttlecraft's
condition itself.  Not too loud for the pilot to
overhear and possibly 
take offense, but with enough volume to clearly reach
his aloof neighbor's ears.  

For nearly a minute, Rosh did himself proud, ranting
and whining like a pro.  Despite the fact that it was
a rather childish 
and immature thing to do, Rosh felt slighted earlier
by the other boy's antisocial tendencies.  

A little payback was necessary.  

Several seconds later, his attempts unexpectedly hit
paydirt.  The ponytailed snob (as Rosh grew to think
of him) finally 
responded, his flat voice snapping Rosh out of his
critique of the shuttle's comfort room.  

"Hey."

Rosh was so caught up in act that his response was
automatic and said in a distracted manner.  Yet as he
answered his neighbor, a smug grin slowly formed as a
result of his little victory. 

"Yeah?  Anything I can do for ya?" 

"Shut up."

The blunt reply was spoken in a harsher tone and this
time it made Rosh turn his head to regard the 'snob'
with growing anger.  

Said 'snob' was sitting at the other end of the row,
not having moved at all since the beginning of the
flight.  Rosh estimated him to be around his age and
for the first time since he boarded the shuttle,
looked at him real close. 

The guy's ponytail ('Oh jeez, what's he doing with
such a feminine hairstyle?' wondered Rosh derisively)
was short and neatly tied with a leather cord, barely
reaching the middle of his shoulders.  Dressed in a
brown, sleeveless leather jacket, a long sleeved gray
tunic, and black pants with matching boots, he looked
like your everyday citizen.  Discounting the fact that
he 
was also a potential Jedi student, that is.  

And he still wasn't looking at Rosh, as if the former
military recruit wasn't worth his time.  That was how
Rosh chose to 
interpret it, and it just made him angrier.  

His mouth firmly set, Rosh responded to the unheard
challenge.  He unbuckled his seat restraints and stood
up, cracking his neck and stretching for a bit. 
Narrowing his eyes, the young Penin walked a few steps
closer, crossing his arms over his chest, and glared
down fiercely at the 'snob'.  

This sudden movement drew the attention of the other
passengers but that didn't matter to Rosh.  All that
mattered was putting the snobbish punk in his place.  


It was weird; normally, he wasn't really aggressive
and usually was slow to anger, but there was something
about this guy that that just plain rubbed him the
wrong way entirely.  

"Say that to my face, you little piece of taun-taun
shi-," Rosh began, but the other boy turned his face
up and when the two made eye contact, it made a chill
run up Rosh's spine.  

Those gray-blue eyes...  It wasn't their color that so
quickly silenced Rosh; rather it was the chilling,
emotionless stare emanating from them.

Never before had Rosh never experienced such lack of
feeling, nor such an icy cold demeanor before.  He
imagined that if those eyes had been a weapon, he
would be a human popsicle by now.  Held fast by the
other boy's stare, Rosh's anger was quickly draining
away and being replaced by the beginnings of a wary
caution.  He retreated back two steps and dropped back
into his seat, prompting several snorts of amusement
and a few chuckles from his audience.  

The young Penin's mouth suddenly became dry and queasy
as he abruptly realized that those eyes were sizing
him up, calculating his threat potential as it were,
and coming up with the best way of .... neutralizing
him, should the situation call for it.
  
Then, just like that, his ice-cold neighbor seemed to
dismiss him and casually looked away.  With the spell
broken, Rosh blinked twice and stared down at his lap,
feeling utterly humiliated, confused and angry. 
Unsure about the wisdom of locking gazes again, he
cautiously eyed the other boy who was completely
ignoring him.  In the process of doing so, Rosh saw a
glint of metal that was alongside the other's left
thigh.  It had escaped his earlier scrutiny and now
caught his interest.  

Trying to act casual, Rosh craned his neck and sat up
straight, trying to get a better view.  

The glint of metal turned out to be a metallic
cylinder, attached to his antagonist's belt by a thin
leather strap.  Since it was partially hidden by the
armrests, Rosh couldn't exactly say for sure what it
was, but he concluded that it did seem to resemble
a....lightsaber? 

After a moment of indecision, his curiosity won over
and Rosh stood up again.  From the height advantage,
he had a much clearer view of the item.  After a few
seconds, he silently admitted that it did vaguely
resemble Luke Skywalker's lightsaber in the holo-news,
if only in length (around fourteen inches) and
diameter (an inch and a half).  

However, the similarities stopped there.  The possible
lightsaber looked, for lack of a better term,
brand-new, as if it was recently made.  But something
was wrong with that, because even he
knew that lightsabers were highly valuable antiques,
well out of range for an average sentient.  It wasn't
as if there were factories out there mass-producing
them.  

Rosh therefore decided that it either meant that it
was phony or that this guy was incredibly rich and/or
had good connections to the black market.  There was a
niggling suspicion, however, in the back of his mind
that it was the genuine article.  Jedi training was
serious stuff, and to be selected for it was to be
considered an honor.  In Rosh's opinion, someone had
to be a complete idiot to try and impress a Jedi
master with such a fake.  

His interest was piqued in such a way that Rosh forgot
he was supposed to be wary of his neighbor.  Wanting
to find out more 
about the 'lightsaber', he blurted out the first thing
that came to mind.  

"Does that work?" he asked, pointing at the item in
question.

Without even looking at him, the other's mouth curled
up into the slightest of smirks and said, "None of
your business."

Rosh's curiosity transformed into irritation, along
with some anger backing it up.  'Snobbish frigid
punk,' he thought.  

Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "Come on, seriously.  Is
that for real or not?"

Without changing his tone, his neighbor repeated his
answer.  "I said, none of your business."

Rosh Penin had grown up in a rather close knit
community.  He wasn't used to meeting anyone like this
ponytailed, coldly brusque snob who he was really
starting to dislike.  Curiosity be damned, Rosh swore,
he would infinitely be better off avoiding any further
interaction with him in the future.  Besides, a jerk
like that deserved to be alone.      

Glaring at the punk for one long moment, Rosh quickly
made a rude gesture at him, which went unanswered as
he'd expected, and went off to sit at the other end of
the row.  

"Rancor bait," he muttered under his breath, looking
off in the opposite direction and left it at that.

That was when two things happened right after the
other.  

The pilot announced that they were just about to enter
Yavin's atmosphere.  He was about to continue and say
something else when he was interrupted by a yell from
the back of the shuttlecraft.  As small as the
shuttlecraft was, the volume of the cry was sufficient
to get everyone's undivided attention.

"EVERYBODY, HOLD ON!! WE'RE GOING TO BE ATTACKED!!"

For one long moment, there was silence as everyone
else absorbed the seemingly ridiculous statement. 
Then came the staring eyes and gaping mouths
(including the pilot) as they regarded the lunatic
who, without any reason to, would just go shouting
nonsense at the top of her lungs.

The lunatic in question turned out to be the
attractive red-haired young woman, whose face was a
mask of shock, anxiety, and 
urgent fear.  Before anyone else could say a single
word more, her warning soon proved itself accurate as
shuttle suddenly 
shuddered and rocked violently.  People who were
standing fell down or slammed hard into the walls or
against each other.

Confusion and panic soon ensued.

The ceiling lights flickered as the shuttle descent
took an abrupt, sharp dive.  

The boring, uneventful ride had suddenly transformed
into a violent, nearly uncontrollable flight going
straight to hell.  

The pilot called for everyone to strap themselves in,
gripped the controls tightly, and desperately
attempted to bring the craft under some semblance of
control.  His hopes were dashed when another impact,
much fiercer than the first, struck the shuttle at the
rear and caused a minor explosion to go off.  

His eyes widened in realization of the fact that the
source was one of the sublight engines.  Alarmed, the
pilot reacted much more quickly than he thought
possible and immediately switched them off, then
activated the emergency landing thrusters.  Hoping
that his passengers were still able to follow his
instructions, he repeated his warning for them to
secure themselves.  Then he blanked out everything
else not related to the inevitable crash landing; he
would need his entire concentration for the task at
hand.

As far as he was concerned, whether or not they would
survive would depend on luck, skill, and the Force.

/****************/

While the pilot was struggling with the shuttle, he
and his passengers had no way of knowing that their
descent was being 
watched.  

On top of a Massassi temple, three figures cloaked in
black, their identities hidden by raised hoods,
watched in varying degrees of satisfaction as the
battered transport coasted downward on an increasingly
erratic trajectory and leaking smoke 
from the destroyed engine.  The shapely curves on all
three clearly indicated that they were of the female
persuasion.

The tallest one nodded as she lowered a long, ancient
looking scepter, as lengthy as she was tall, and spoke
a single word.

"Go."

"Yes Master, as you wish," immediately replied the
woman on the left in an excited tone of voice. The
figure on the right shook her head and was slower to
respond.  When she did, however, it was clear she was
mocking her companion.  

"Yesshh, Masterr.  As you....wish."  

Their master growled low in her throat and suddenly
the scepter was glowing with energy and leveled at
them.

"By the Emperor!  Stop this nonsense, both of you,
before I lose my patience and decide to kill the two
of you right now! Just go and do your job, Akane,
Allura!"

Seemingly humbled, the two shorter women bowed to her,
all the while glaring at each other, and then turned
around to walk 
toward the fifty-odd steps that led back to the
ground.  Their mutual hatred of each other had been
put aside .... at least for the moment.  In their
minds, each knew that soon, in the near future, a
reckoning would be at hand and then, once and for 
all, only one of them would take their place as their
Master's true disciple.

Until then, they would remain rivals, warily observing
each other's movements and probing for potential weak
points to be 
taken advantage of.  But for now, they had to focus on
their mission.     
  
The distraction had already been accomplished,
courtesy of their Master.  All that remained was to
finish two simple tasks and their job would be done. 
Standing as far apart as the steps allowed, they
quickly but gracefully descended.  On their way down,
a small wind suddenly kicked up and momentarily blew
back the lower portion of their robes.

Revealing two black and red painted lightsabers.


End Chapter 0


Author's Notes:

I would like to thank (albeit belatedly) rgorman, J.
Thomas Jeans, and Dev Hunt who read through my fic and
responded.  

Domo Arigatou.  

Chapter 1 is about halfway done, but is slowed by my
constant little revisions here and there.  Oh well,
it'll be posted when 
I feel it's ready.  






  





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