Fire and Vice (Prologue)
The explosion had torn a large hole in the side of the small Jedi Enclave located on Chandrila. General Roth, as always, was first to step off the landing ship. The shock troops followed. Roth could barely see the Jedi inside for the smoke, but he knew they were in there. His midi-chloran scanner told him they were. He gave a curt whistle, and the shock troops (their armour resembled the ancient Empires) placed a large gun in his hands. The firing canister contained hundreds of capsules of tiny droids, designed to target individuals with high midi-chloran levels. Roth fired, and hundreds of metallic capsules erupted out of the gun, landing inside the Enclave. The smoke inhibited his vision, but Roth saw flashes of steel and saber as the Jedi fought off the droids. The droids would burrow beneath their skin and release a toxin, killing them relatively instantly and painlessly. Relatively, thought Roth, hearing the cries of the fallen Jedi.
He thought about reloading a canister, but then recalled the price of the precious Meridian crystals that were integral for the ability for the droids to home into the midi-chlorans. It did, after all, come out of his own pocket. The Cirellian Order was self financed, and its chief financer of late had become Roth. The force moves you, not you, the force, He thought, recalling his favourite Cirellian mantra. This mantra seemed to kick him into action.
He began to stride towards the Enclave, perhaps a little too casually for the nature of what he was doing. The troops were filing through the hole in front of him. He heard the sound of blaster fire, and the occasional cry. Roth un-holstered his modified blaster. It had an instantly recognizable shape. It was a little too long for a one-handed blaster, but it was thin and light. He appreciated it for its accuracy and power.
Roth entered the fray. The Jedi had already come to the conclusion that he was behind the attack, his entrance merely confirmed the notion. Blaster fire was erupting all around him, but only a few Jedi were making a stand. The others lay wounded, dead, or dying. Roth took aim at one that was struggling on the ground and fired. The body slumped, a lightsaber rolling across the ground. He casually swept it up and clipped it onto his belt. There was another saber there, his personal favourite. He unclipped it and activated it. The familiar yellow glow lit up Roths equally yellow eyes - Eyes that were flashing with intelligence and anger.
Roth moved through the ranks, cutting down wounded Jedi, most too weak to put up any sort of a fight. There were a few aides that lay wounded also, but his scanner showed that they harboured no midi-chlorans in their blood stream. He left them.
'Bring me Master Vice,' ordered Roth to his troops. 'If he is still alive, of course.'
Roth holstered his lightsaber and fired a few rounds at a wounded Jedi. Roth searched the bodies for lightsabers, clipping them to his belt.
'Sir,' said a shock trooper. Roth spun on heel to face him.
'Yes?'
'We have Vice,'
Master Vice had managed to crawl down the hallway after the explosion. He had passed out from shock eventually. His right side was a tattered, bloody mess. Roth ordered his men to help Vice up. They grabbed him by his arms, hoisting him up. His legs dragged limply on the ground.
'Jedi Master Vice.' Said Roth, pacing back and forth. Vice gave no reply. Roth crouched down to his eye level.
'You wouldn't happen to know the location of any other Enclaves, would you Vice?' he questioned.
'You know perfectly well that if I did, I wouldn't tell you,' said Vice.
'Now that's not true at all. I recall Master Puri spewing out the location of this Enclave to me before he died. But he did seem the cowardly type.' He paused, bringing his face closer. 'I wonder if you are the same,' he asked in a curious manner, as if he truly was interested. He pressed his blaster against Vice's forehead. Vice stared straight into Roths eyes. Roth almost paused a second, seeing the wisdom and grace in Master Vices eyes. Demented rage suddenly flashed over Roths face. There was a blaster shot, and for a moment Master Vice hung limply in the shock troopers hands. They then dropped him ungracefully on the ground. Roth stood over the fallen Jedi, rage emanating from his very pores. Then, as quickly as it had come, the rage subsided. Roth ran a hand through his hair, which had become ruffled from his intensity. Jedi, he thought, so convinced that they are full of wisdom that they become bloated, and it pours, overflowing through their eyes.