No battle plan ever survives first contact
-unattributed source
More mundane merchandise were doled out as the auction progressed into the afternoon. Many of the attendees were becoming impatient. Their host had a demonstrated an increasingly annoying propensity for purple prose when announcing each bid. Seratheem was obviously stalling to increase the anticipation but it was reaching ridiculous theatricality.
Even Revan was getting restless, wishing the Twi'lek would just shut up and get to the main attraction so he could complete his objective.
Still, he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the weapon after the fact. Destroy it? Secure it for the Order? The Watcher had been suitably vague as to his mission parameters.
Arctet continued to give periodic reports of anything worth noting.
++Maybe I'm being paranoid, but according to these lifesigns, most of the guards have stopped their rotations. Nothing unusual has been reported...It's almost like they're on standby.++
++Probably taking a piss or gambling++ T'shere replied dismissively.
++Mercenaries aren't the most reliable of sorts. Still, keep me appraised.++
Before Arctet could reply, Seratheem said the words everyone had been dying for.
"...And that concludes our last standard item. We move onto our featured event."
The attendants sighed in relief at the news. The waiting was finally over. Every guest had all heard the rumours about this never-seen-before weapon, and how it could decisively end any conflict in the blink of an eye. It was time to see if it actually lived up to expectations.
"Finally," yawned Mysteel, stretching her arms from her seat.
"Don't you just hate it when someone goes off on a tangent like that?"
The irony of her words were not lost upon the Jedi but he decided not to comment. To his dismay, Seratheem continued to talk with a healthy dose of the dramatic.
"Now...I'm sure everyone is curious as to why this item has been kept so secret. My Master has had to maintain very strict security for its transportation, because if any of the Republic lapdogs caught wind of the weapon's sheer destructive potential-"
The huge Wookie sitting in the middle of the audience interrupted with a rumbling growl that sounded like two gears grinding together.
"Listen to me you tentacled freak. I don't care if you've got a warship behind you that runs off of virgin's piss and Rancor dung. Stop your pointless posturing before I turn your head into my codpiece."
The crowd gave supporting cheers, not bothering to point out Wookies were unabashedly naked to begin with.
"A-as you wish," stuttered the Twi'lek, flushing slightly.
Let's see what the fuss is all about. Thought Revan. Mysteel was rubbing her hands in anticipation at the prospect of looking at the cool new toy, sapphire eyes glittering.
"Oooh, I'm all pins and needles right now! What do you think it is? A cool new droid? A death ray? Reeka in a thong?"
Revan shook his head and continued to stare at the stage.
Seratheem clapped his hands twice. The curtain behind him parted again to reveal a gurney, supporting a tall, velvet covered object. When it reached the centre stage, there was a hushed silence.
After waiting for a good few seconds, Seratheem withdrew the cover with a flourish.
There was a confused gasp at the reveal.
What in the...
Everyone thought the weapon would be massive or intimidating, like a prototype battle droid or maybe even a huge cannon. Instead, at the centre of the gurney stood three canisters, each roughly two meters in width and diameter. It contained what resembled an awful lot like smoke. The inky substance writhed within its confines, constantly shifting, as if it threatened to spill out at any moment.
Everyone stared at the canisters, not quite sure what to make of the reveal.
++Well? What is it?++ asked T'shere curiously. The orator answered her question,
"This, ladies and gentlemen is what our generous benefactors call the 'Praeconor Oblivio' - 'the Herald of Oblivion.'"
Seratheem said proudly. He drew one of his skinny hands back at the object in question.
"These canisters sustain a virus strain so potent, it will literally devour any organic material to its individual atomic components, consuming it utterly and leaving nothing but excrement in its wake."
There was an uncomfortable silence punctuated by a cough or two every few moments.
Mysteel looked like a girl who was just declared Miss Universe and was getting ready to receive her prize, only to find out the announcer had said the wrong name. She slumped back on her seat, deflating like a punctured pleasure doll.
Dejectedly, she turned to Revan and twirled a finger at her temple, obviously thinking the other Twi'lek had licked a dozen Rodian heads too many. If Seratheem was aware of the general disappointment, he hid it well.
"Make no mistake, one microbe of this virus can consume an entire Rancor. A drop of this exposed in the street can lay waste to an entire city. Strategically dispersed into the atmosphere? Well let's just say no planet would be able to sustain an ecosystem after you unleashed it properly."
Most of the crowd gave mutters of disbelief at this boast, obviously thinking the Twi'lek was lying. Some even jeered at the stage, obviously feeling and shortchanged. After all the elaborate promises, the ultimate weapon was ...gas?
Seratheem ignored the taunts and asked.
"So...do I have a starting bid?"
Nobody seemed particularly eager to oblige. They were still trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. Insults and jeers began to get louder.
++Looks like we were worried over nothing,++ remarked Kynes.
++Maybe that's why the cult stormed out on them.++ said Arctet hopefully. ++probably thought Reeka was wasting their time.++
Everyone was too underwhelmed by the revelation to comment. Revan in particular felt disappointed, wondering why he had been dragged halfway across the galaxy for this.
"That's it?" Snarled one of the mercenaries through the insults, voicing everyone's outrage. "You called us all here to sell us a...a disease? Screw that! If I want someone dead, I want them dead now! Not wasting away in some damn sickbed."
"I assure you, this disease is more lethal than any conventional weapon you have ever seen," replied the Twi'lek calmly.
"Why don't you shove your cunt-shaped head into that stupid canister and show us how damn lethal it really is?" growled the mercenary.
"We come all this way and you want us to bid on this...this toy without any solid proof that it even works?"
Others echoed this angry sentiment. Despite the increasingly threatening situation, Seratheem grinned. "I wouldn't dare."
He snapped his fingers. Two attendants emerged from the backdrop pushing a cylindrical tube, roughly equal in height to the other canisters. But this one had a naked human in it, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. No doubt one of the countless wastrels that littered the streets, or maybe a former employee of Reeka that displeased him.
"To show you my words are no empty boast..." Seratheem trailed off as he took a black needle from one of his pockets and inserted it into the receptacle port on the nearest cylinder. There was a hissing sound as a fraction of the malignant substance passed into the syringe.
The Twi'lek eyed the measurements with a critical eye.
"One parts per hundred cubic meters. A bit of overkill, but to prove my point..."
With elaborate care, he inserted the needle into a similar looking port on the prisoner's tube.
As soon as Seratheem injected the contents into the prison, the human's pale skin began to erupt into angry red boils. They spread rapidly, ugly red pustules erupting onto his fleshy surface. Within moments of appearing, they burst open into milky white craters, spilling down his face in ugly rivulets of pus. The prisoner's expression turned from fear to pure horror as blood started to pour out his eye sockets, his nose and then his mouth.
At least it was supposed to be blood. The fluid was actually a sickly greenish white, mixed with a tinge of crimson. He vomited the disgusting substance, splattering it liberally on the glass confines, even as he began to convulse uncontrollably. As his shaking reached its zenith, the victim lost control of his bowels.
All the spectators observed this demonstration with different reactions. Some had looked away in disgust while other's had moist eyes of admiration. One of the slaves in the corner screamed at the horrid sight. Others followed suite or gagged on their tongues.
++What's going on Tails?++ asked T'shere urgently. ++All I hear is screaming,++
Mysteel was too horrified to reply.
For an agonizingly long period of time, the prisoner shat, retched and banged his hands on the glass tube, desperate for the release that would never come. Eventually, his skin began sloughing off like wax from a candle, leaving only bone and stringy gristles of muscle.
No one knew how long the defilement took, but for Revan and Mysteel, one second of this was already too long. After what seemed like an eternity to them, the slimy corpse thing slumped onto the base of his cage, stripped of semblance of what it used to be.
There was nothing left in the tube except for sludge, bones and the greenish black mucus. It looked worse than what would have passed out of the back end of a Hutt. Revan could still see tiny wisps of the airborne contagion writhing in the air before it finally dissipated.
Everyone was silent again, except this time, it was in rapt awe. Seratheem jumped at this chance to inject his delivery speech.
"As you can see, the virus spreads extremely rapidly, eating away foreign material at a phenomenally rapid rate. Any living cells are instantly consumed. Devoured. As a particular bonus, this virus is incredibly invasive. Without specially designed containment, the contagion will force its way into even supposedly impregnable vaults or air tight rooms. However the virus has a comparatively short half life to certain airborne toxins. It needs other organic material to feed on or it will burn out in a matter of hours without sustenance or proper safety protocols."
Seratheem paused to see if anyone would interject. Nobody said a word.
"Nevertheless, this is the most potent plague ever manufactured. Think what you could do if you had the ambition, planning and resources!"
The Twi'lek coughed, reigning in his unhealthy enthusiasm.
"But I digress. Now, does anyone have a starting bid?"
The room erupted in noise as every bidder jostled and shouted to be heard. Seratheem heard obscene numbers being tossed back and forth, too fast for him to catch them all. Even as he strained his lobes to make sense of the ruckus, Seratheem grinned.
Reeka would reward him very generously after this transaction was done. And all thanks to their...benefactors.
In Revan's corner of the room, the discussion was no less hectic.
"By the Force," said Mysteel. She looked decidedly pale for someone painted red. "If this virus gets unleashed..."
"It could bring the Republic to its knees." Revan finished the thought grimly.
"Imagine it…whole systems wiped out, unable to sustain life. What would take legions of armies and years to do...this weapon alone could do in an instant. No world would be safe. The entire infrastructure could collapse. A weapon to end all wars."
"We can't let that happen!" Mysteel whispered harshly, eyes hardening. "We won't!"
++Jedi,++ hissed Tshere, interrupting their arguments. Although she could not see the effects of the virus, the concern in their voices had unsettled her. When she spoke though, her voice was barely audible through the din.
++What are you waiting for? Make the damn bid!++
Revan didn't need to be told twice.
"Two million," he announced in a strong voice, doubling the price from the previous announcer. Many of his competitors cursed liberally,
The Wookie had stood up at this point. He roared in his own intelligible tongue. Revan realized the bid had just gone up to three million. Other bidders rose up to meet the challenge.
While the race went on, Revan heard Arctet announce something over the channel.
++I'm picking up something disturbing in the garrison's comm traffic. They've just gone to high alert++ He announced nervously.
++Why? What's happening?++ demanded the commander.
++The guards are reporting...intruders within their complex.++
++Intruders?" Echoed T'shere in disbelief. "that's impossible! We haven't seen anybody in or out their doors since we started monitoring them. How did they-?++
++I-I'm not sure. I'm just relaying what the transmissions are saying.++
Arctet voice sounded troubled as he continued.
++Their chatter indicates the automated defense grid has inexplicably activated and opened fire on friendlies. Multiple casualties, at all levels of the garrison complex already. Many lifesigns are diminishing or erratic. I'm also hearing a lot more static and screaming. It doesn't sound like it's going well for them. Actually it sounds like a slaughter.++
Revan strained his ears to hear telltale gunfire, but all he heard were bids being shouted out by his competitors at the top of their lungs. The Jedi was so distracted by this piece of news that he almost lost the opportunity to make his own offer.
"Five million," he called out hastily before whispering. "The intruders...do the guards describe them?"
++I...++
++This can't be right...++ interrupted Kynes. The normally stoic sniper's voice sounded worried.
++Survivors are saying some of the guards have turned on their own, killing indiscriminately. They're raving about hairless monsters attacking with the traitors that are impervious to their weapons. They're appearing all over the tunnels, killing anything that gets in their way.++
Revan heard a spitting sound on the other side of the channel.
++Force take those bastards! The guards are saying they're gorging on blood!++
++You'd better get the weapon quickly sir.++ said Actet in a worried voice. ++I...I think they're here.++
Nobody needed to ask who he meant. The Cult had arrived. Somehow they had infiltrated the garrison and were already reaping a bloody tally. T'shere's angry voice interjected in the conversation.
++Dammit, there's no time. You two need to get out now!++
"No! We're too close. We can't let the Cult get their hands on this thing!" said Mysteel urgently.
++This isn't up for debate Tails! Leave!++ the Arkanian shouted to be heard.
"Sis please!" pleaded the Twi'lek. "Think what our Master would do!"
There was a strained moment of indecision.
++All right.++ she said anxiously, ++But Tails, if the Jedi can't procure the item in the next two minutes, you will extract. That's an order. Is that clear?++
Mysteel murmured an affirmative.
For once Revan could agree. He raised his hand again.
"Thirty million!" He announced loudly. None of the other auctioneers could believe what they were hearing. Seratheem looked like he was going to have a heart attack, clutching his chest in ecstasy.
"D-does, anyone have another bid?" He stuttered in a thin reed voice.
"Forty million!" Snarled the Wookie in his native tongue. The shaggy creature glared at Revan defiantly. There was an uproar at the latest challenge.
"Fifty million," Revan countered. He hoped this wouldn't go on much longer. To his despair, the Wookie replied with seventy million.
++Where do you bastards get this kind of money?++ T'shere fumed.
++Did the Jedi learn a technique that turns their piss into starship fuel? I guess that means Wookies shit uranium! Maybe that's why everybody let's them prance around naked!++
"Wow, this pissing contest is really turning me on," interrupted Mysteel in hushed undertones, looking decidedly anxious. "But we really don't have time for this,"
++Comm traffic just went dead!++ Came Arctet's anxious voice, ++They're closing on the your location. Hurry up!++
Revan was about to reply when he noticed that the remaining guards in the room were tapping their helmets and looking at each other anxiously. Some of them were trying to get Seratheem's attention but he was too immersed in the bidding. The Jedi decided to end this definitively before it could get out of hand.
"One hundred million," he shouted, throwing all his cards on the table.
There was a very strained period of silence. For a horrible moment, the Wookie looked like he could actually counter the bid. Mercifully, the shaggy beast sat back down on his seat, growling in dismay.
Seratheem looked positively giddy at the final sum. This was like one of his wet dreams, except now he was getting off from thinking about money. He dabbed his face with a sweat stained cloth.
"The...the closing bid stands at one hundred million. Going once..."
The waiting was intolerable. In the background, Revan could still hear Kynes and Arctet arguing just how the Cult managed to overcome security so quickly.
++I knew it.++ said Kynes darkly. ++the Cult was biding their time. They were waiting for everything to be in the right location...and then they struck.++
++But how did they manage to ambush all the guards? ++ Muttered Arctet.
++The guards wouldn't just stop patrolling and the garrison's defense system wouldn't just power up and go haywire.++
His tone of voice changed suddenly as if something occurred to him.
++Wait...Someone must have diverted the guards just to the right location and then programmed the guns to fire. Which means...++
He trailed off for a moment and began typing rapidly.
++I'm going to access the cameras in their control room++
++You're wasting time!++ said T'shere harshly. ++Help those two secure an escape vector!++
++No! Ignore that command. Keep going.++ said Kynes.
++Really Kynes? Really?++ snarled the commander. It sounded like her brain was about to haemorrhage. ++Of all the times, you're choosing to mutiny now?++
++Arctet's right T'shere! They need intelligence!++ snapped the sniper testily.
++Otherwise they'll be moving blind!++
An uncomfortable silence ensued.
++Do it,++ T'shere said darkly. ++But you and I are going to have words later Trickster. The kind where I shove my fist up your ass, and not in the good way!++
There were a tense few moments where rapid typing could be heard over their channel. Seratheem was asking for a competing bid one final time.
++Okay I'm in. Uploading real time footage to your terminal commander.++
There was a few moments of silence as the commander looked at the data.
"Wait...close up on that image and magnify. Frame 1738, where that person exposes part of his face to the camera." said T'shere over the channel.
A moment later, Revan heard collective gasps in his ear.
++By the Force," Kynes croaked. "It's...++
++That room leads straight to the back of the auction hall! ++ said Arctet in a panicked voice.
++He's heading for the entrance! I'm going to try and lock those gates down!++
++Both of you, leave now!++ snapped the commander as Arctet struggled to buy them time. ++Forget about the weapon, just leave!++
A sudden hissing noise at the back of the room made him caught his attention. The doors they had descended from suddenly clamped shut, the internal locks clicking into place.
We're trapped. The Jedi realized. The enemy picked this place apart and trapped us in this room.
++Dammit, they've overridden the security!++ hissed Kynes ++They've sealed the garrison!++
She started shouting at her other scouts to help counter the lockdown.
++Revan!++ shouted T'shere over the channel, using his name for the first time. She sounded terrified. ++Listen to me! Whatever happens, remember your oath! Don't let-++
Revan didn't hear the rest of it as static suddenly took the channel. He exchanged worried looks with Mysteel as her line went dead as well.
Seratheem's voice interrupted him even as he waved frantically for the Jedi's attention It sounded several octaves higher, "Lord! Lord please! If you would just follow me again to this station, I'll-"
He never got to finish his sentence. A loud screeching noise emanated at the back of the curtains, like nails digging into a chalkboard but a hundred times worse. Everyone's hairs and furs stood on end, as the rending of metal became louder, followed by an increasingly loud noise of groaning metal. Some hellish entity was trying to force itself into their sanctum and it was succeeding.
Mysteel took this moment to glance at her partner.
"What do we do?" she whispered. Her eyes flashed with uncertainty, something the Jedi was unused to seeing from the boisterous Twi'lek.
"We get ready," replied Revan. He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber, loosening his muscles in anticipation.
"What in blazes was that?" squawked an auctioneer. Anxious murmurs erupted in the room. For the first time, Seratheem seemed to notice the commotion behind him. He gave the guards in the room an angry look.
"Find out what all that ruckus is!"
His subordinates seemed extremely reluctant but moved to comply. Eight of the guards began to march towards the curtain, but four of them lingered behind, strangely inert. Suddenly, in synchronous precision, they raised their weapons and opened fire on their erstwhile companions. Three of the guards collapsed instantly from the unexpected barrage.
Shouts of confusion and anger erupted in the room as mercenaries and guards alike moved to fire at the aggressors. Before they could put up any meaningful resistance, the ceiling mounted turrets activated and fired on Seeratheem's men.
Every attendant dropped to their knees and crowded under their chairs for cover.
One of the guards ducked too late and flew back, a smoking ruin. The corpse crashed into the throng of auctioneers causing more panic. The remaining loyalist guards and a pair of mercenaries were also cut to ribbons by the salvos of incandescent death raining from the ceiling.
Eventually the turrets stopped their murderous barrage and fell inert. The floor had become a smoking, charred ruin of pock holes littered with fresh corpses.
As he got back up to his feet, Revan noticed the traitor guards had dropped their blasters and began to encircle the survivors with eerie synchronicity. At exactly the same time, each guard took something metallic from their pouches.
The Jedi's eyes widened as he heard the telltale hiss of lightsabers being ignited.
The Cult...they've been here all the time.
The surviving mercenaries gasped at the sight of the trademark weapons and lowered their guns. They knew that any resistance right now would be suicidal.
Suddenly, a crash was heard beyond the curtain as the intruders finally managed to shear way the last level of defence. Shouts of panic and gunfire were followed by screams. The pitch of terror reached a constant fervour, never relenting in the sheer agony of the sound.
The screaming beyond the veil died away, replaced by snarls and wet crunching noises. Many of the remaining survivors looked at each other anxiously.
Moments later, there were footsteps, dozens of footsteps, and the sound of scrapping feet approaching with deadly promise. The Jedi and Twi'lek tensed, instinctively lowering their stances.
The curtained opened.
By the Force...
Six hunched naked figures led the procession, bipedal slavering monsters that padded on their clawed hands and feet. They were humanoid in appearance, but their skin had been abused beyond recognition, taking on the texture of dirty melted plastic. An unnatural number of teeth jutted out from their elongated mouths. Their eyes were devoid of anything resembling sanity, red and black pits of hate. The monsters growled as they strained on metal leashes, soaked in the life blood of their prey. In short, they looked like...
Abominations. T'shere called them Abominations.
Leading them on were humanoids dressed in Reeka's guard uniform, but these ones had taken off their visors. Like the beasts that preceded them, these newcomers were no less hideous, but their eyes still kept the spark of intelligence within them.
While each of their faces sprouted unique looking mutations and horrid skin diseases, there was an eerie resemblance within their countenance. Their jawline, the cheekbones, the general facial structure...
There could be no question that these warriors were the vanguard of the invading force, the aspirants of the Cult.
The aspirants snarled at their savage counterparts, brandishing their lightsabers and uttering threats in a foul tongue to keep them in line.
When the brutes had been brought to order, all the newcomers suddenly parted into two sides of the podium with commendable parade efficiency. A moment later, the curtain opened again and through the middle of the gap came he who was undoubtedly the leader, the aura of command and horror most prominent.
Revan understood then why someone like Tshere was afraid of the Reborn.
The figure was dressed in torn black rags that fluttered menacingly around his gaunt profile, like a second skin. The man was unhooded, his lank white hair falling to his side like tendrils. But it was the eyes, or rather lack thereof that drew his attention. Weeping sores of black fluid stared pitilessly at his prey.
This shambling horrors bowed and let their leader walk to the center of the podium. The newcomer looked at the terrified crowd and smiled.
"Hello," Said the Weeper to no one in particular. "Looks like I arrived...just in time,"
Author's Note: Account is still behaving really strangely. Hopefully readers are no affected by this.