"Tell me you have a way past this!" Gamin gestured at the massive security door before them. Past that lay the rest of the citadel's interior, and their only means of de-activating the inner city's security systems. Behind them, those security systems were still very much active—and Czerka's forces were fast converging on the tower's entrance. Soon, there would be too many for Zola and his allies to hold off.
"Let me think," she said, running her eyes up and down the featureless barrier of steel. Explosives could get them around the door, but that would mean going outside—and running straight into Czerka's forces. There was no computerized security system to slice—not here, at least—and getting to the locking mechanisms that supported the lower half of the door was impossible in such a short timeframe.
"We're stuck," she said.
Gamin let out a short, pained laugh and threw his hands up in the air before slumping against the door.
"Then were dead. Or arrested, then dead." Frustration flashed across his face, and he balled his hand up into a fist and slammed it into the steel bulkhead blocking their path. It wasn't his anger that surprised her, nor the fact that he vented it on an inanimate object. She herself had done the same countless times.
What surprised her was the shallow dent he had left in a foot of solid steel.
"Up!" She rushed over and grabbed him by the collar, dragged him to his feet, then positioned him a good ten feet from the door. "Get it open."
"What?" He looked back at her in disbelief. "I cant—"
Sunon grabbed his chin and twisted his head so that he was looking forward again.
"See that dent? You did that."
"I was angry!" he exclaimed, as if desperately seeking an excuse for some wrong he had committed. But Sunon wasn't looking for excuses. In fact, it sounded like 'angry' was exactly what they needed.
"If you don't get that door open, I will go outside and kill people until I find someone who can." She waved her blaster in the air beside him for effect. It was a lie, of course. There was no time left to do something like that. If Gamin couldn't get them in now, the two of them would die when every guard in the compound descended on their position.
"You wanted to be a Jedi once, right? Then act like one."
Gamin gritted his teeth, extended his arms outward, and pushed. An invisible force had the hairs on Sunon's neck standing on end, and she swore she could feel the pressure in the air change as Gamin projected his will on the barrier before them. The door creaked and groaned, but otherwise did not budge an inch. Gamin's fear was gone, wiped clean by a mask of determination. But he didnt just need to be determined—he needed to be angry.
"Did you leave the Order?" Sunon said. "Or did they kick you out for being weak?"
Gamin's eyes flickered over to hers, and his muscles tensed as he put renewed effort into pushing on the door. The whine of strained metal grew louder until it was a constant screech, and the door began to tremble in place.
"What did your parents say when you left?" She softened her voice into a lilting tease. "Did they wonder why the stronger brother had to be the one they lost?"
Gamin's eyes shot wide and he looked straight at Sunon, even as he kept shoving on the door through the air. The furious young man looked a split-second away from turning his powers on her, but the rattling of the door in its slot had Sunon too emboldened to back down. If he failed, she was dead anyway.
Feigning disappointment, Sunon looked at the still-intact door and shook her head. "No wonder you couldn't save that woman. You can't even save yourself." She clicked her tongue and turned away as if to leave. "Pathetic."
Behind her came a sharp snap and a rush of air as the groaning of the strained door was replaced by a horrific screech, like nails on a chalkboard. What followed was a thunderous crash that shook the entire hall, making Sunon stumble on her feet as she turned around to see what had happened. The top door was still in place, blocking half the hallway, but the bottom bulkhead had been slammed back into its housing within the floor, cracking the hard marble all around it.
"I guess you're not useless," she said as she rushed past Gamin under the remaining half of the door.
"Hey!" he shouted after her, reluctantly breaking out into a jog to keep up. "Don't you dare think we're ok!"
She was sure he had more than a few heated words to throw at her, but they would have to wait. They'd gotten the door open, but time still wasn't on their side. The remainder of the hall was untouched by the ship she had sent careening through the front door, and showed all the gaudy wealth Czerka had extracted from Bandomeer's dusty ground. They reached the center of the building, an open space that ran so far up Sunon could barely make out the ceiling.
As she marvelled at the sheer size of the citadel's interior, blaster fire erupted from multiple levels, striking the floor all around her and Gamin. She rushed them to the edge of the space, seeking cover under the balcony just above them.
There were nearly a hundred floors, each marked by the railed balcony circling the tower's center. Four elevators were situated around the lobby, any of which would take them to the floor they needed to reach—but those would be locked down tight. Even if they could slice one, they risked getting their elevator disabled manually by someone shooting out the magnetic lifts at the tops and bottoms of the vacuum tubes. Stairs weren't an option, either. Zola couldn't hold off an army while she and Gamin ran up a hundred stories. Not to mention, she was wearing seventy pounds of armor and he was breathing like he had just run a marathon. They'd never even make it to the top.
"How much do you weigh?" she asked Gamin.
He eyed her warily, as if trying to figure out what sinister implication his answer had.
"One-seventy... why?"
Sunon stepped closer to the edge of the balcony above them and peered out. Seeing that they were still out of sight of any guards, she waved Gamin over. As soon as he was within arm's reach, she wrapped her arm around him in a grip so tight she thought she might leave imprints.
"What the hell," he choked out.
"You don't mind heights, do you?" Gamin still in hand, she stepped out from under the balcony and looked at her wrist. With Gamin's added weight, she only had enough fuel for one jump. If they missed it, they were going to end up either on the wrong floor, or as a bloody stain on the marble they stood on now.
"Jump calc," she said into her wrist. "Floor sixty-one."
"No," Gamin exclaimed, squirming in her grip as horrible realization washed over him. "No, no, no!"
Sunon gripped him tighter and took another step towards the center of the room. From there she could just make out the figures of a few guards racing around the floors above, trying to figure out where she and Gamin had taken cover.
"Just leave me here! You said to stay out of your way, right?" He gave her a pitiful, pleading grin. "I'll do that! I'll stay down here!"
She looked back down at him. "Hold on if you don't want to fall."
His eyes went wide and he swallowed, resigning himself to his fate as he wrapped both arms tightly around Sunon's torso. She had thought she was holding him tight, but even through her armor she could feel the death grip he had on her. Steeling herself for what she was about to do, she took a deep breath and stepped out from under the balcony. The guards above shouted, and blaster fire followed, striking the marble floor—but she was already gone, her jetpack rocketing her upward at dizzying speeds.
Floor after floor flew by, and the computer wired into her helmet let out a series of increasingly frequent beeps to indicate how close she was getting to her intended level. Floor numbers flew by on her visual display, but she wasn't paying attention to those. She closed her eyes, feeling the acceleration pressing down on her shoulders as the beeps piercing her ears grew closer and closer, then finally turned into a continuous drone. She flexed her fingers, triggering a forward burst from the jetpack just as the fuel cells ran dry, propelling her and Gamin towards the balcony railing in front of them. She spun around as they flew forward, and she smashed through the glass railing before flying straight into the wall opposite it. Both of them fell to the floor, Gamin rolling from her arms and then quickly scrambling to his feet.
"Never again!" he shouted, pressing himself to the wall beside Sunon as he sought to get as far away from the edge as possible. "I'd rather die!"
Shouts came from the floors above and below them, and she could hear the beat of boots above and below as the Czerka guards rushed to intercept the pair that had flown right by them.
"You might still get your wish," she said, retreating into the safety of a hallway leading away from the main tower. It wasn't one she chose at random.
Czerka had made a policy of not hiring any locals from hostile populations, which made intel on the interior of the tower sparse. Fortunately, Zola's group had recovered many of the cleaning droids Czerka had thrown away when they stopped working. Through the memory banks recovered from those, a complete map of the tower had been assembled, showing them the location of the planetary Director's office.
Sunon and Gamin rounded a corner and came within view of a door blocking their way, but this one was a carved slab of wood—not a metal barrier—and the latch broke with one heavy kick from Sunon. Both her and Gamin entered the office, the former motioning for the latter to shut the broken doors behind them as she scanned the lavish executive suite.
An overweight man in a suit bearing Czerka's green & yellow colors knelt behind the desk. His eyes went wide when he saw Sunon, and he raised a blaster. She fired off a few shots at the wall behind him, forcing him to take cover as she approached. The next time he tried to peek out from his hiding place she was on top of him, grabbing the gun from his hand and hauling him onto his high-back desk chair.
"I surrender!" he exclaimed, holding his hands high. Sunon tossed the blaster to Gamin, then turned back to the seated man.
"Renard Haut, I assume?"
He nodded quickly, his jowls shaking with every frantic jerk of his head. Sunon gave the edge of his chair a hard shove with her boot, sending him smacking against the rear wall as Gamin leaned over desk's computer terminal.
"That's the lobby elevators locked down," he said after a few moments of frantic typing.
"Now the wall," Sunon said as she grabbed Haut's chair and wheeled him along with her towards the window running along one wall. From their position nearly seventy stories up she had a breathtaking view of Bandor, one that only grew more beautiful as every security door along the wall encircling the inner city was thrown open. Blaster fire erupted across the compound, and a tidal wave of Meerians seemed to form out of nothingness and converge on the walls.
Before Sunon had arrived, Zola's resistance had been plagued by a rare problem—they had more weapons than warm bodies to carry them. She had told him how to solve that. Just before fighting broke out, his closest followers would go door to door and put a blaster in the hands of anyone old enough to fire it. If they didn't want to fight, they were told that traitors would be remembered once Czerka was thrown off of Bandomeer. Not everyone could be brave—but the fearful were even easier to motivate.
"How's it looking out there?" Gamin said, still standing at the desk.
"Lovely," she responded.
They watched in silence as the fighting moved inside the compound, the groups of rebels converging on each and every building in the inner city as the Czerka forces retreated inside fortified office structures to make a desperate last stand.
"They're holing up inside the buildings," she mused.
"Then we've got them," Gamin said.
"Yes, we do." She turned her head back to look at him and pointed at the computer. "Make sure Zola's people don't run into any locked doors."
He gave her an uneasy smile.
"We don't have to do that," he said. "They're prisoners in their own buildings. We can negotiate."
"Negotiate?" she spat back. It was obvious where this was going. Gamin was still as soft as ever, but had regained enough confidence to second-guess her decisions. Earlier, he had nearly cost them their win. Now, he wanted to throw that hard-won victory away.
"Yes!" came a frantic exclamation from beside her. She had nearly forgotten about Haut as she watched the sight unfolding below them. "I'm a very important man! Very important!" He ran an arm across his sweaty brow. "As managing director for this sector, I am full authorized to negotiate with..." He looked uneasily between her and Gamin. "Whoever you people are."
"Managing director?" Sunon's tone softened and she turned to face him.
"Yes!" He forced a confident smile. "A vital cog in Czerka's machinery! They would pay a king's ransom for someone of my stature."
She doubted that very much—intergalactic corporations made a policy of not negotiating with extortionists—but she did realize that this was the type of man who could accomplish what she wanted.
"I want to send a message," she said. "Czerka will leave Bandomeer, and never return."
"I—" For a moment he sounded as if he might attempt some argument or negotiating tactic, but another look at the heavily armored woman turned him back into a quivering mess of agreeability. "Absolutely! I can't imagine they'll want to return. Not after... this..." He trailed off and looked out the window at a battle that had grown quiet as the Meerians surrounded the fortified buildings scattered around the compound. "How do you want to relay this message?"
Sunon had already thought that through. With Haut's attention focused on his conquered city, she pulled her hand up and then whipped it down, extending the blade hidden in her gauntlet. With another quick motion she cocked her arm back, and drove it towards the man's chest.
Then, she came to a halt, the tip of her blade poised mere inches from Haut's chest. It was like she was trying to move through some impossibly dense liquid, and the air rippled around her in slowly undulating waves. Confused, she looked around until her eyes fell on Gamin. His face was contorted with immense strain, his trembling hands extended out towards her. He was doing this. She had shown him how to harness his power, and now he was turning it on her—but he was weak, and she was strong.
Turning her attention back to Haut, she saw that he was staring right at her blade, his chest heaving with terrified breaths and hands gripping the armrests of his chair. He was frozen solid, too scared to even move. Sunon willed her arm forward, picturing her blade puncturing the man's chest. As soon as she drew blood Gamin would lose his nerve, and the rest would be easy. Then, she would deal with him.
For a few moments, nothing happened. The scene must have looked absurd to anyone watching, the only movement of the three people involved the quaking of their limbs. Sunon pushed and pushed, but her muscles were growing tired and she found her arm being pushed away from Haut. Gamin must have sensed that weakness—he threw his hands off to the side, grabbing the entirety of Sunon's body with the Force and tossing her clear across the room. She smashed into the wall near the door they had entered through, leaving a clear impression of her armored form buried in the wood panelling.
"I told you not to get in my way!" she shouted, launching herself to her feet and storming towards him. He thrust his hands towards her in an effort to latch onto her with the Force, but this time she was ready.
There was a martial art, long-forgotten by most, that had been created for the sole purpose of allowing non-Force users to defeat those who had the ability to tap into its tremendous power. Sunon had only gleaned bits & pieces, but was competent enough in the form to quiet her mind and minimize her presence in the Force even as her body kept moving. It was a simple trick, and would have been useless against an experienced enemy—they would have simply willed the Force to wrap around the physical presence they could see right in front of them, ignoring the underlying change. But Gamin was a novice, relying purely on crudey instinct. He dropped his hands in surprise, unable to process why Sunon had not stopped when he had willed it to happen.
Her fist connected with his gut, punching right through any defenses he might have otherwise unconsciously projected. Just like when he had failed to stop her from closing in on him, he had tried to stop her incoming blow by grabbing onto her arm, instead of simply projecting a barrier between the two of them.
Simple mistakes for a simple man.
"Why are you helping him?" she said as he hit the ground, her booming voice made all the more menacing with her helmet's voice modulator. As Gamin lay clutching his stomach, Sunon cocked her boot back to strike him in the ribs.
"I'm not trying to help him," Gamin wheezed. "I'm trying to help you."
She lowered her foot back down to the ground. She didnt know why she had nearly dealt him a grievous injury moments after laying him out flat—he was already out of the fight. All she knew was that immense shame and self-revulsion washed over her, quenching the fires of her anger in an instant.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled down at him. They weren't words she had spoken often in her life, but she had meant them every time. Here was no different. He looked up at her in confusion, but his gaze quickly snapped to a presence behind her.
"We interrupting?" came a voice behind her.
Sunon wheeled around and drew her blaster, but it was snatched from her grip before she could fire. Two men stood in the doorway, with four more in the hall outside. The rear four were all Mandalorians, wearing heavy armor of varying clans and colors with the same distinctive T-shaped visor that Sunon herself had on. One of the men in front was outfitted the same way, but with no helmet protecting his bald, burn-marked head.
The final, dark-robed man—the one who now held her blaster—wasn't a man at all. He had red skin, a long, thin face, and two pairs of tusks that protruded from his jaw. Besides his surprising height and lanky build, she could make out little more in the way of identifying features. The rest was covered up by a mask of white bone, one that perfectly matched the contours of his own misshapen skull. Two holes looked to have been bored in the sides, making room for the bat-like ears that stuck out to either side of his head.
"On your knees," the alien croked.
He was a Kaleesh.
She had read stories about a race of vicious, tribal warriors who wore bone masks carved from the skulls of their ancestors—a great honor for the one being worn. The only reason she knew that obscure bit of trivia about such a far-flung species was that she had considered disguising herself as one in the early days of her Bounty Hunting career. She had quickly settled on Zabrak instead, who looked much closer to Sith Purebloods than the gangly Kaleesh.
Sunon did as ordered, slowly dropping to her knees as she raised her hands. The two men in front stepped forward, the bald human waving in the four Mandalorians behind them who funneled in with rifles drawn. He looked to be their captain, but she wasn't quite sure where the Kaleesh fit in. She also couldn't escape the feeling that there was something very familiar about the vile-looking alien.
"Where is she?" the Kaleesh said, glancing between Sunon and Gamin as he circled the two. Gamin had managed to get on his knees alongside her, but the injuries she had given him were not making it easy.
"Who?" Gamin said. As the kneeling pair eyed the alien uneasily, Haut sensed an opportunity to escape and fled for the apparent safety of the waiting Mandalorians.
"Do not think you can hide her," the Kaleesh snapped. His yellow, slitted eyes flickered madly behind the mask's gaping sockets. "I can feel her. Her presence washes over me—"
As he paced in front of the two, he came to an abrupt stop.
"No," he muttered. "Its here. Its you." He looked back and forth between Sunon and Gamin, seemingly uncertain of whose Force sensitivity he had sensed.
"You!" shouted the Mandalorian captain, pointing at Sunon. "Helmet off—slow does it."
She obeyed, lowering her hands to the sides of her helmet before plucking it off with a hiss of pressurized air. Her identity was clearly a surprise to the Mandalorians, who raised the rifles they had ever so slightly lowered. The captain ordered one of his men to slap a pair of Force cuffs on her, which the man did after yanking off Sunon's gauntlets, leaving her hands bare. The cuffs were just as heavy and uncomfortable as the ones she had worn for their ruse earlier, but these ones worked. She may not have had any Force sensitivity to dampen, but handcuffs were handcuffs.
"Now," the captain said. "Where's the third one?"
Neither Sunon nor Gamin answered. Instead of trying to pry the information out of them, he instead motioned for one of his men to bring the Czerka executive forward.
"Where's the hermit?" he repeated.
"Upstairs," he responded uneasily, pointing at the door behind his desk. "She's on the top floor, locked in the penthouse suite."
The Mandalorian eyed him grimly. "You got her in Force cuffs?" An extra pair dangled from the belts of three of troopers. They had come prepared.
"Ah...no. We don't exactly keep those lying around." Haut looked away, withering under the intense glare of the mercenary captain. "I had the lift locked down and rigged with explosives in case she tried to escape."
The captain let out an amused snort and nodded approvingly. "Can those explosives be put on a timer?"
Haut tilted his head to the side in uneasy thought. "They... can be."
"Then do it."
Haut stiffened. "The city isn't lost, yet!" He pointed at the doorway the Mandalorians had come through. "Get out there and help my men!"
At that, the Mandalorian pulled his blaster and pointed it at Haut, giving him a cold stare that left no room for confusion.
"We're not here to pluck your ass from the fire. Get that lift down here, and arm the explosives."
While Haut stumbled over to the terminal to do as requested, the Captain grabbed Sunon by the arm and pulled her roughly upward. As he did so, his wandering eyes went to her shoulder—and the Clan Vizla skull insignia emblazoned on it. His eyes went wide and he dropped her, stepping away as Sunon fell back to her knees.
After a moment spent working the communicator on his wrist, a hologram appeared over it. From the rear it was just a jumbled mess of green pixels, but gradually took the vague shape of a human head.
"Commander," the Mandalorian standing before her said. "You're not gonna believe what we found on Bandomeer." He threw an inscrutable glance in her direction.
"Rocks and savages, I assume?" came a garbled voice from the other end. "Tell me you found those three." There must have been a great distance between the two—the interference made it hard to even understand him, let alone pick up on an identifiable accent.
"That, and more," the bald man said proudly. "We've got a woman wearing the Clan Vizla armor here."
The hologram was silent for a few moments, then she heard a rush of air, like someone drawing air in through their nostrils.
"I want to speak with her," it said. Wrist held at chest-level, the Mandalorian walked the hologram over to her. "Shae Vizla." As the hologram spoke, the bald man knelt in front of Sunon ans turned the projection towards her. "Where is she hiding?"
The moment the face on the other end of the comm link came into view, Sunon's eyes went wide. Beneath the static and glitches was the hard, creased face of Tralus Varad. She had spent years searching for him, pouring endless blood, sweat, and tears in an effort to turn over every rock that could hide a man who seemed to have become a ghost. Now, here he was—and he had found her. He did not share her shock, instead looking her over with quiet interest.
"The Sith?" he muttered.
"The one were here for," the bald man said with a mean grin. "Czerka already ran facial recognition. Sunon Vathamma, murderer of Nara Jendri."
"Sunon..." Tralus grew more thoughtful, his pixelated brow creasing as he looked off to the side. "Vizla?" His eyes went from her red & grey armor to her face, and Tralus' face took on a delighted expression that had Sunon wanting to bite the communicator clean off of the bald man's wrist.
"Loose ends always get tied up, one way or the other," Tralus mused. "This time, it seems I get the privilege."
"Sir?" the kneeling Mandalorian said.
"You've caught a rare breed indeed," Tralus nodded at Sunon. "A Sith who cannot use the Force. How truly bizarre." Sensing the presence of the Force in others was a rudimentary skill—even someone like Gamin could do it on instinct. Tralus must have pinned her as a have-not the moment they'd met in that museum.
Behind Sunon, the Kaleesh scoffed. "She is not without power."
"What?" Tralus gave him an accusatory look, apparently upset either at being second-guessed or at having his gloating interrupted.
"It is weak, but it is there." The Kaleesh stared at her with unblinking eyes. "Like the buzz of a Givana bug that stays always out of sight."
Sunon's breath caught in her throat. Did the strange alien have a connection to the Force? Had he sensed some latent abilities deep within her that even she didnt know about?
Then, her heart dropped—and embarrassment flooded in as she looked at the nervous young man kneeling beside her. Gamin's power was unfocused to such a degree that the Kaleesh had simply assumed it to be coming from the Sith. The alternative was so unlikely that he hadn't even considered it. Sunon's eyes connected with Gamin's, and she nodded down at the sweaty, unrestrained hands clenched tightly on his thighs. The Mandalorians had disarmed them, but he still had his greatest weapon within. She just prayed he would realize it when the moment came to make their move.
"You can sense it?" Tralus gave him an odd look, then Sunon... and then Gamin. His eyes travelled downward, to the young man's trembling fists.
Only then did Sunon notice her own shaking hands, and the cuffs rattling on her wrists. She had ignored the movement, chalking it up to her own nerves—but that wasn't all it was. Gamin had been using the Force to try and snap the cuffs in two, an immense effort that had sweat dripping from his brow and chest heaving with strained breaths.
"Shoot him!" Tralus shouted. "Shoot him now!"
Sunon didnt wait for the shots to come. She bolted to her feet, headbutting the bald man in the chin before stomping straight over him in a full sprint towards the middle two Mandalorians near the doorway. All four rifles were pointed at her. She hit the second from the left with her shoulder, and tackled the one to his right through the doorway. Something hit her in the back, throwing her out into the hallway with the Mandalorian carried with her. She didnt wait to see what had hit her—she was alive, and that meant she needed to keep moving. The soldier's back struck the grass railing in the hallway outside as Sunon shoved him into it. The man pointed his rifle at her face, but Sunon dropped onto her back and kicked the man square in the stomach, shattering the railing and sending him plummeting to a screaming death far below.
She was back on her feet well before she heard the satisfying smack of the man hitting the ground. Her shoulder-check of the second Mandalorian had taken him into the hall as well, and he rose to his feet just outside the doorway to Haut's office. Inside, Gamin was busy fending off the remaining two soldiers. Both had been disarmed, but one managed to wrap him in a tight hug from behind while the other drew his holstered pistol. Sunon swung her cuffed hands at the man in the doorway, smacking him in the side of his helmet. With that blow the cuffs finally came loose, snapping free of her wrists from the strain Gamin had put on them and the blow Sunon delivered to the Mandalorian's head. She was strong, and with the added weight of cuffs on her hands she might as well have hit him with a sledgehammer. Sunon hopped over him and entered the room just as the bald man rose to his knees, blaster in hand.
There wasn't enough time to close the distance—nor was there enough to retreat back to the safety of the hallway. Time seemed to move in slow motion as both she and Gamin had blasters pointed at them. Then, he used the Force to pull the pistol from the hand of the Mandalorian pointing it at him. It flew into his and he fired, spraying blaster fire across the room in a wide arc. One shot struck his would-be-killer in the gut, one hit the bald man in the lower back, throwing him forward and knocking the blaster from his hand, and one went straight through Sunon's thigh, burning her with intense heat and making her drop onto one knee. The rest struck the walls and floors harmlessly as the soldier holding Gamin threw him about in an effort to wrestle the blaster free.
The blaster the bald man had dropped came to a halt right in front of Sunon. She scrambled for it amidst the screaming pain in her thigh, but her opponent didnt even make a move for the gun. Sunon looked up to see him rocketing towards her, the jetpack on his back scorching a trail across the marble floor as he shot right into her, carrying them both out into the hallway and through the glass balcony. Before she realized what had even happened, the ground beneath her gave way to sheer nothingness.
One moment, Sunon was charging towards the kneeling Mandalorian captain, ready to bring her cuffs down on his head. The next moment, she and her opponent were gone, sent flying out of the room with a roar of flame and heat that licked at Gamin's ankles as he wrestled with the remaining mercenary.
Haut had taken up his position behind his desk, and managed to grab a blaster in the chaos. He pointed it straight at Gamin, but he couldn't be sure he wasn't aiming for the Mandalorian and just waiting for a clean shot. The way they were thrashing around, though, it didnt matter who he was aiming for—he was liable to hit either one of them.
"If you shoot me, you're gonna have to deal with my partner!" Gamin shouted. He wasn't sure if Haut realized he had stopped Sunon from putting a blade through his chest, but he could at least stoke the man's very reasonable fear of the Sith. Haut didnt say anything, his hands shaking against the desk where he had the blaster propped up. The Mandalorian holding onto Gamin managed to slip his finger over the trigger, and was slowly twisting the gun around to point towards Gamin. It was only a matter of time until the merc's strength won out, and trying to do anything fancy with the Force was a death sentence while one slip up meant a shot in the gut.
Gamin gave up the gun, letting his hands sleep free of the merc's arms and ducking under them as he scrambled away.
"All yours!" he shouted as he made a mad dash for the desk. Blaster fire came from behind him, and he spun around only after reaching cover to see the Mandalorian slumping to the ground, half a dozen poorly-placed shots riddling his armor.
Gamin stayed behind the desk until he saw Haut stand up, blaster in hand and staring in horror at the dead Mandalorian.
"I shot him," he muttered. "I killed him."
"Yeah, you did." It took Gamin himself a moment to remember that he had killed someone in the chaos, too—one of the two soldiers inside the room had been shot by him. The fact that it just as easily could have been Gamin dead instead of the Mandalorian did little to make him feel better about what he had done. If anything, it made the whole experience more surreal and nauseating.
As he approached Haut to try and take the shell shocked executive's blaster, Haut spun to face him and raised the blaster.
"Whoa, there." Gamin raised his hands. "Remember what I said." He nodded towards the exit to the hallway where Sunon had disappeared only a minute ago.
Haut swallowed, seeming to catch his meaning, then turned to his desk and put three shots in the computer terminal.
"What the hell?" Gamin ran over to Haut and wrestled the blaster from his grip, the latter giving little resistance.
"You can deal with that Kaleesh if you want!" Haut shouted, pointing at the open door behind his desk as he raced for the exit. "I'm leaving!"
Gamin gave chase, but the overweight executive was faster than he looked. "Get back here, you prick!"
The moment he made it into the hallway, he was met with blaster fire from all directions. Ducking back into the office, he ran his hands over himself to find that he hadn't actually been hit—he had just come damn close. From the split-second glimpse he had caught of the tower's center, the floors near his were packed with the remaining Czerka guards being pushed upward by the advancing Meerians. The latter would reach him eventually, but they couldn't help him now—they certainly couldn't do anything about the explosives in the executive elevator. He ran to the rear of the office, through the open door behind Haut's desk, and into another hall that turned into a long corridor that ran to the executive elevator.
There he found the red-skinned alien who had disappeared a short while ago. He wasn't a Sith—Gamin could tell that much—but besides that he didnt know what he was. A 'Kaleesh', Haut had called him. Whatever he was, the tall being gave Gamin the creeps. He was only a few steps from the lift, and the doors were already wide open.
"Hey!" Gamin shouted, aiming his blaster as he ran. The outburst had the desired effect, bringing the Kaleesh to a halt just before the elevator. Gamin fired as he ran, giving no thought to what would happen when the bolts struck. He just knew he couldn't let that thing get to Ibayo. Whatever it wanted with her, it certainly wouldn't be good. He had planned on squeezing the trigger until the gun's heatsink gave out on him, but the alien deflected the first few bolts with casual waves of his hand, sending them straight back at Gamin. It was only pure dumb luck—and his conservative trigger finger—that kept him alive. He slid to a stop, unsure of what to do. The hallway had no cover, no doorways to bust through, and the turn in the hall was a good thirty feet behind him.
Maybe it was good that he hesitated—it meant he could see what was coming. The alien thrust his open palm towards Gamin, sending a wave of energy towards him that rippled the wall tiles, cracked the marble floor, and shattered every light in the ceiling as it cut a swathe of destruction down the hall. Gamin tensed up and held out his own hands to shield himself in a move far more instinctual than intentional, but it was enough to save his life. He was thrown back down the hall, hitting the floor and knocking the air from his lungs twenty feet from where his feet had left solid ground. When he managed to prop himself up on his elbows, he saw that the lift doors had closed and that the hallway looked like it'd had a rancor tear through it.
He got back to his feet and started walking forward—slowly at first, then running. Running towards something he really should be running away from. He used the Force to wrench open the elevator doors, a task that felt almost easy after having done the same to a ten-ton blast door. The thought brought a smile to his face, but the crackle of broken lights behind him reminded him of the far greater power he had just witnessed—and hjs smile promptly vanished.
"What are you doing?" he muttered to himself, looking up and down the elevator shaft. Below him was pitch blackness, and far above sat the motionless turbolift. The only way to call it was to either swipe a card in the ID reader on the wall beside him, or to use Haut's personal terminal. Neither of those were viable options. The only way up was just inside the shaft, and a little to his left—an option that turned his stomach. Never again, he had told himself. Yet there he was, leaping onto the narrow service ladder running up the length of the shaft.
"After this, never again." He hoped that this time, he could keep that promise to himself. Either that or conquer his fear of heights through sheer exposure.
Halfway up a ladder that seemed to grow longer with each rung he pulled himself up by, he heard the noise of metal rattling. Far above, the elevator was shaking in its moorings, whipping the lift cables to and fro hard enough to nearly smack him in the back. For a moment the rattling died down, then started again. Loud 'bangs' rang out, shaking the ladder and threatening to knock him from his perch. That was worrying enough to make him scoot down a few feet and begin to use the Force to pry open a door he had just passed.
Then, the shaking was replaced by a loud screech that he could feel in every bone of his body. Looking up, he saw that the elevator was now much closer—and hurtling right towards him.
It was only instinct and adrenaline-heightened reflexes that allowed Sunon to grab onto the Mandalorian's leg before she fell seventy stories into the pit of blaster fire far below. The battle between the Meerians and Czerka was steadily working its way upward, though she could only spare a single glimpse down at the chaos before she and Crale crashed through the glass railing across the tower. He had likely meant to kill her and flee upward, away from the fighting and towards the tower's docking pads, but her added weight dragged them down two dozen floors from where they started.
After the glass came a dizzying blur of wood, marble, and carpet that hit her from all angles and tested every shock absorber in her suit. When the spinning finally stopped she was staring up at a bright chandelier in what looked to be a conference room. As she gripped the table beside her and rose to her feet, her eyes met with Crale on the opposite side of the table. The man staggered to his feet with no more grace than her, and his face was bloodied and bruised. Judging by the searing pain running from her neck to hairline, she doubted she had fared much better.
Crale dove across the table, a blade sliding out of his gauntlet as he brought his fist towards Sunon. She sidestepped the blow and grabbed his arm, using his own momentum to fling him across the room into the wall behind her. The awkward movement sent a pain shooting through her leg, reminding her very vividly that she had been shot. After all this, she would have a word with Gamin about that. For now, her chief worry was the man scurrying back to his feet in a running tackle.
Sunon put him in a headlock and tried to force him to the ground, but he was strong. He kept pushing, driving her onto the conference table until he was on top of her. His wrist-blade rained down from above, stabbing the wood all around her head as she grabbed at his arm. After a strike close enough to nearly take off her right ear, she managed to wrap her arms around both of his like a snake coiling around its prey, pulling him in for a tight embrace until his face was inches from hers. She lurched forward, clamping her teeth down on the meat of his nose and clenching her jaw as tight as she could.
Crale screamed, blood and spit dripping onto her chin as he tried to wrench free of her. After a few moments he did—but only by leaving half of his nose behind in her clenched teeth. Eyes wide with utter rage, the blood-stained man brought his forehead down on Sunon's, delivering a tremendous blow that had her vision spinning and ears ringing. Crale tore himself away, leaving Sunon to struggle back to her feet—but his retreat was short lived. He stood in the doorway leading out of the room, arm pointed at her. She ducked just in time to avoid the wrist-rocket that shot out, though she could hear—and feel—the wall behind her being blown to bits, showering her with shrapnel. Another rocket took out the table, nearly throwing her flat to the floor, but she managed to close the distance, tackling Crale and driving him out into the central tower where she slammed him into the balcony railing with a sharp 'crack.'
The battle was raging everywhere—above them, below them, even on the same floor. Blaster fire criss-crossed the vast space like a deadly laser light show, reducing the once glamorous corporate headquarters to a shattered ruin. An explosion rocked the entire structure, shaking loose broken glass and making both her and Crale stumble in their deadly embrace. A pillar of fire tore its way up the other end of the tower near Haut's office, starting from the floor and working its way up until it ran the entire height of the spire. Fire sprinklers kicked in soon after, filling the tower with a fine mist alongside the smoke and ash quickly flooding it.
"This is for my nose," Crale spat. He shoved her back and kneed her in the face, breaking her own nose and making her reel back in pain and shock. "And this is business." Before she knew it he had grabbed her by one arm and hurled her over the balcony. Only then did she react, grabbing onto the metal frame before she could begin her very quick trip downwards.
But it was useless. She was too tired, her suit was too heavy, and her hands too sweaty—not that any of that had time to come into play. Crale stepped back and delivered a powerful kick to the railing, sending Sunon hurtling downwards. For a few seconds, she simply fell, though she managed to keep her grip on the railing being pulled from its moorings like a spool of wire being undone. Then the railing went taut, catching on something and bringing her to an abrupt halt. The sudden stop yanked her arm from its socket and tore the railing from her grip. She kept falling, flailing desperately for purchase on the floors flying past her at terrifying speed. When she hit ground, she hit it hard. All the shock absorbers in the world wouldn't have stopped her ankle from shattering when she landed on her right foot.
Sunon cried out in pain, smashing to the ground in the very center of a battle still running at full tilt. Debris and bodies lay all around, and she could hardly breathe through the thick smoke settling over the lobby. Far above her, Crale leapt from his perch and soared downward, flaring his jetpack briefly to slow his descent just before he touched bottom. He scooped a blaster up from the ground and stomped over to Sunon, his mangled face a twisted mixture of triumph and rage.
It was only with the cold blackness of that blaster barrel staring her in the face that Sunon felt something welling deep within her. Not a fierce determination to live, or even a fear of death.
It was shame.
"This ain't gonna come close to what I'd like to do to you." Crale slowly squeezed the trigger, savoring the moment with perverse delight. "But we're out of time."
And so was she. Blaster fire rang out, a horrid screech that Sunon would have assumed to be directed at her—except she was still alive to hear it. Crale stumbled forwards and gasped, cradling the gaping blaster wounds that had formed in his chest and stomach. He raised the pistol in his hand in one final show if defiance, but Sunon used her good leg—the one Gamin had shot, but which remained unbroken—to kick his hand aside.
Crale didn't have the strength to re-aim the blaster. With a bloody gurgle he fell to his knees, then slumped to the ground by Sunon's feet. A moment later, Sunon was being dragged from the central tower towards the security door Gamin had forced open. When she came to a stop, she peered around to see Zola and one of his men standing on either side of her.
"Fight almost done," the Meerian said to her with a tight-lipped grimace that showed cautious confidence.
Sunon pointed towards the room she had been dragged from. "Gamin's in there somewhere." Her voice shook horribly, a fact she hoped Zola didnt pick up on. She tried to stand, but an unwanted cry of pain had the two Meerians gently lowering her back into a lying position.
"No good," Zola tutted, pointing at her left leg and the blaster hole Gamin had made in it. He was right, but it was the shattered ankle in her right giving her the real trouble.
"I think he's in the tower," she said.
Zola looked at her, aghast. "One elevator!" he explained, holding up a finger. No doubt he had seen what she had—that one route up being reduced to molten metal by an explosion still present as a raging fire barely contained by the building's fire suppression system. Still, as her aunt Maliss had said, where there was a will, there was a way. And sometimes you had to think outside the box—or the tower.
"Get me a shuttle," said Sunon.
Gamin tore open the door beside him, leaping through just as the elevator zoomed past him on a screeching tear downwards. For a brief moment, he considered peeking his head back into the shaft to watch it hit bottom. Then, he remembered what Haut had said about an elevator packed with explosives.
He rolled over onto his back, reaching out with the Force to the doors he had just broken and wrenching them shut again. A split-second later, he felt a heat envelop him that seemed to come out of nowhere. An imperceptible fraction of a second after that, the entire hall shook with the force of the explosion roaring its way up the elevator shaft. It took all his strength to keep the doors closed as they buckled outwards, eventually snapping free of the frame entirely. Just as total exhaustion seemed near, the explosive force fighting against him subsided, and he was able to let the twisted doors clatter to the floor. Smoke and ash billowed over him as he rose to his feet in a fit of coughing and sputtering.
The elevator shaft looked more intact than he had expected, but peaking in felt like sticking his head in an oven. There was too much smoke to see all the way to the top, but what was definitely no longer there was the ladder he had been climbing. That was gone, along with any hope of getting to Ibayo and the Force-wielding alien she was now stuck with in a penthouse suite. Stepping back, he reached out towards the two broken doors on the floor, then levitated them into elevator shaft and used them to block out the smoke rising from above. After a moment the haze and heat lessened, and he was able to see a clear up to the top. A faint glow lit up the top of the shaft, telling him the doors the Kaleesh had went through were still open—if he could only get up there. Looking down, his eyes fell on the doors he was still holding in place. They had formed a sort of floor across the open space, one that almost looked secure enough to step on.
Heart pounding, Gamin scooted closer to the edge and tapped the doors with his foot, one after the other, checking their steadiness as he kept them held aloft with his palms outstretched. They tilted slightly with his pressing, but he was able to keep them still with only slight flicks of his fingers. He was no stranger to using the Force to levitate objects, but always small ones—a wallet here, some casino chips there—not slabs of hollow metal, and certainly not the blast door he had thrown into the ground downstairs.
Maybe it was that rapid evolution of his abilities that had him stepping out into the precipice—or maybe his body moved before his mind had time to second-guess the blood-curdling risk he was taking. Regardless, he was now balanced on two slabs of hot metal in a hotter elevator shaft, held up by nothing but his own willpower and spotty concentration.
He raised his hands up, causing the floor beneath him to rise. Faster and faster he rose, fear and exhilaration causing him to let out a nervous laugh that turned to one of triumph as his eyes met the open doorway of his final destination. He leapt into the hallway ahead of him, letting his makeshift elevator fall down the shaft with a violent clatter that grew ever more distant until becoming inaudible.
The apartment he had landed in was an unmarred paradise of white marble, blue velvet furniture, and gold inlay that coiled up the wood walls like vines on a trellis. Gamin might have forgotten all about the battle still raging far below, were he not still able to smell the acrid smoke wafting up the elevator—although that might have been coming from him, he realized. He made his way through a lounge meant for entertaining wealthy guests, noting the well-stocked bar set against the wall with a hint of regret before heading up a flight of stairs into another long, curving hallway. A soft murmur was coming from the other end, and as he walked he could just barely make out voices—two people, one shouting in harsh tones. Gamin drew his blaster and pressed himself against the inner wall of the corridor, making his way to the end of the hall and the doorway to his left.
Inside stood the alien who had given him the slip a few minutes prior, gesturing outwards and shouting amidst the luxurious surroundings of the apartment's master bedroom. The doors to the room had been torn open, one laying atop a broken table while the other was nowhere to be seen. Wind howled through a shattered floor-length window, giving some clue as to where the other door may have been sent flying. The alien went silent, and for one terrifying moment Gamin was sure he had been spotted. Then the Kaleesh knelt down on one knee, revealing Ibayo a few feet past him.
"Darth Nox." He took a small metal cylinder from his belt and held it out to her, as if offering up the greatest treasure in the galaxy. "Take me as your apprentice once again."
It took Gamin a moment to process what the alien had just said—and who he had said it too. Gamin knew what the Darth title meant—anyone with the barest knowledge of the Sith Empire's politics did. But the alien had just used it to address the quiet, middle-aged woman who Gamin had marked as a healer—and a former Jedi.
But had she ever actually said she was a Jedi?
Ibayo reached out as if to take the object, but then folded the alien's fingers back around it. Xalek withdrew his cloth-wrapped hands without a word, though Gamin could see his entire body quaking in anger. More than that, he could feel it—waves of dark intent crashing into him and threatening to drag him into its deep, dark depths.
"Do you think I am not strong enough?" Xalek shouted, rising to his and showing his full size once again. He reached a hand back towards Gamin, and immediately Gamin felt himself being pulled around the corner of the doorway and along the floor like he had been caught in a riptide. A moment later the alien's hand was around his neck, squeezing so tight he could hardly breathe. With the other hand he twisted Gamin's wrist, forcing the blaster from his grip.
"Is this why you reject me? A new student?"
Ibayo moved as if to help Gamin, but stopped when she saw Xalek's long fingers tightening around Gamin's neck. She didn't seem surprised to see him—likely she had already felt his presence, and was simply hoping Xalek, in his anger, wouldn't notice the intruder.
"I have not taken another student," she said. "And I never will."
Xalek reached to his belt and unclipped something. A moment later, a red glow appeared and Gamin felt a faint heat emanating from the other side of Xalek.
"An apprentice does not kill his master until he has learned all she has to teach." Xalek raised the hand not choking Gamin, revealing a red lightsaber pointed at Ibayo's face. She maintained a stoic expression, though she flinched slightly as the blade neared her.
"But if you will not teach me, then you have already taught me all you can." He swung back the lightsaber as if to strike her, but adjusted his swing at the last moment and brought the saber straight towards Gamin's chest. A split-second later, the blade stopped a few inches from Gamin's chest. Ibayo had grabbed Xalek's shoulder, restraining the brawny alien with a strength Gamin could hardly believe.
"There it is!" Xalek exclaimed, his anger replaced by feverish excitement. He whirled around, tearing his arm free of Ibayo's grip and throwing Gamin at the shattered window, out into the smoke-filled skies of Bandomeer. A hand grabbed onto his just as he began to fall, and his chest slammed into the exterior of the building. Ibayo was laying on the floor above him, holding his wrist with both hands.
"This is not like you," boomed the alien's voice from inside the penthouse. "You chain yourself to these pitiful creatures." Xalek appeared above Ibayo, lightsaber in hand. Gamin frantically searched for a safe grip on a window frame covered in broken glass, and could do little but watch in horror as Xalek raised the lightsaber above him. Nor could Ibayo do anything, either—one wrong move and she risked dropping Gamin to a messy death at the base of Czerka's headquarters.
"I will free you of those chains." Xalek leaned over Ibayo and thrust his lightsaber at Gamin's head. Before it could reach him she released her grip. For a few moments he scraped the edge of the building, then he was falling in open air as the building narrowed between the penthouse and main structure. A split-second after that, his back struck solid metal—but it wasn't the ground, nor part of the tower. He was on the ramp of a small ship that was fast rising to meet the windowed wall of the penthouse apartment he had just fallen from. Two stout Meerians stood just behind him, rifles in hand and eyes fixed squarely on the tower. Between the two sat Sunon, a tripod-mounted rifle planted squarely between her spread legs.
"Move!" she shouted, prompting Gamin to scramble off to the side and up the ramp into the ship's passenger bay. Even if her words couldn't reach the two people still in the tower, the noise of the shuttle did. Xalek held his lightsaber in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of blaster fire that erupted from Sunon and the two men flanking her. The alien moved so fast that Gamin could scarcely make out individual movements, but he could tell by the explosions of light and sound that the lightsaber was still bearing the brunt of the attack. Gradually he was forced backwards, allowing Ibayo to rise onto all fours beneath the stream of blaster bolts continuing above her.
"Jump!" Gamin shouted, edging towards the corner of the ramp. He waved a hand in view of Sunon and the Meerians, who stopped firing long enough for Ibayo to stand up and throw herself towards the waiting ramp. Halfway between the window and shuttle, she stopped—not moving forward, nor falling. Xalek walked back towards the window, lightsaber held at his side and hand extended outwards. Realizing what the alien was trying to do, Gamin reached out with the Force and pulled Ibayo towards him with all the strength he could muster—which, compared to the furious creature opposing him, wasn't much.
"Shoot him!" Gamin shouted desperately, feeling Ibayo being pulled from his grip by the much stronger Kaleesh. One of the Meerians rushed to the opposite corner of the ramp and fired at Xalek, forcing the alien to once again bring his lightsaber up in a defensive pose. Yet Gamin still couldn't overpower him. Instead, Gamin released his hold on Ibayo, allowing the woman to slip back through the air towards the tower.
Then, he thrust his hand outwards, sending a forceful blast rippling through the air and crashing into his unsuspecting opponent. Xalek stumbled backwards, catching a blaster bolt in the shoulder when he momentarily dropped his guard.
But that wasn't the only thing he let fall. With neither Xalek nor Gamin holding her aloft, Ibayo plummeted downward with enough speed that Gamin had to throw himself onto the edge of the ramp to keep her within sight. Again he reached out with the Force, wrapping it around her like a net and pulling her towards him. With her clear of the apartment window, Sunon and her two comrades unleashed on Xalek, shredding the top floor of the spire. He was pushed back further and further until Gamin could no longer see him among the smoke and debris accumulating within.
"Mo'achindo!" came a shout from beside Gamin. He craned his head back to see one of the Meerians kneeling on the ramp with a long metal tube propped up on his shoulder, with one end pointed at the building. What the exclamation meant was a mystery to Gamin—at least until the tube erupted in a small explosion of fire and smoke, sending a rocket hurtling towards the apartment. A far larger explosion followed, finishing what their small-arms fire had begun and sending a plume of smoke billowing out of the building.
Gamin tore his eyes away from the spectacle and focused on hauling Ibayo the rest of the way towards him, even as he heard a sharp 'crack' that heralded the ravaged penthouse collapsing in on itself like a controlled demolition. The entire luxury home collapsed onto the citadel's roof, which itself gave way under the weight of steel and concrete falling atop it. Floor after floor broke beneath the avalanche, each one sounding out across the city as the glass windows wrapped around the building shattered from top to bottom.
A hand gripped Gamin's, and only then did he realize he had drawn Ibayo the rest of the way up. She clambered awkwardly over him to the safety of the passenger bay, and he was all too happy to follow. The collapse of Czerka's headquarters had come to a halt before the main building could crumple in on itself completely, though Gamin could still hear the sounds of destruction raging across the rest of Bandomeer's inner city. The hollow rumblings of a building stressed to its breaking point, intermittent blaster fire exchanged between the Meerians and the last Czerka holdouts—and strangest of all, faint cheers far below him.
