Chapter 25: Altering The Past.
If there was one mistake the Jedi had made on this mission, it was turning their backs on us, Welk thought to himself, as he watched the retreating form of the decoy leader, Ganner Rhysode, vanish over the broken speeder.
The Dark Jedi flashed a vicious smile at his partner, tilting his head to indicate the situation behind him: Tekli was still bent over Raynar's beaten body, her furry little hands flying like a ship in hyperspace.
Lomi nodded her approval, reading his plan through their bond, and together they advanced on the unsuspecting Chadra-Fan, their yellowed teeth bared with malice.
Gripped loosely in one of the injured Jedi's hands was a glossy silver tube, no bigger than a blaster, but much more dangerous when in the right hands; their hands.
Welk grabbed the saber between his sweaty palms, and when Tekli reached for her weapon to stop him, Lomi picked her up with the force, blocking off the creature's airways with a deadly technique only those taught at the Shadow Academy could imitate.
A rasping choke reverberated around their hiding place, but unfortunately for the alien, the din of the battle was so loud that no one could hear her.
The healer tried to reach out to the others through the meld next, and Welk felt Lomi smirk admiringly. It was a smart move, but yet again, the Dark Jedi had a counter-attack ready.
After all, they'd been trekking with the strike team for days now, and had never been let into the meld, so they'd had a lot of spare time on their hands.
Lomi levitated a chunk of speeder debris that had come free from the rest of the burnt-out shell and tossed it at the Chadra-Fan's head. Her beady eyes widened when she saw the durasteel heading her way, and seconds later, she was bathed in a dark shadow, slipping into unconsciousness.
Welk let a raucous chuckle escape his pasty lips at the healer's misfortune, his hands finding the icy hilt of a second lightsaber, this one discarded by the now dead auburn Jedi the others had called Eryl.
He passed it to his partner, fingering his own stolen weapon and relishing the cool sensation as it rolled over his skin. How he'd missed that feeling.
A pained cry stabbed through his musings, and seconds later, the mighty form of a Barabel crashed into their protective shield.
Both he and Lomi quickly stashed their stolen blades under their tattered robes, pushing out with the force to slow the Jedi's attackers, giving the alien enough time to regain its balance and focus.
The Barabel hissed something they assumed was a thanks, of sorts, and when it had dived back into the battle, Lomi knelt beside the fallen healer and began a memory rub.
It wouldn't pay for the Jedi to know where their loyalties lay just yet. When the time was right, they would make themselves known; but until then, they had to continue playing the obeying guests.
And the best part was that with the constant voxyn and Yuuzhan Vong attacks, none of the Jedi had the time or the energy to figure out their true motives.
No one suspected a thing, and they were going to keep it that way.
---
The butt of a coufee connected with her skull, cracking the skin and causing a splatter of blood to shower the wall behind her.
Jaina Solo cried out in pain, the echo of her voice ringing in her throbbing head long after she'd been silenced by another deafening blow.
She was on the verge of unconsciousness. The black spots at the edge of her vision were getting bigger, and every sound around her was muted, like she was listening through a layer of duracrete.
After so many battles – so many close calls and lucky breaks – she couldn't believe her time had finally come.
It was her time to die.
The blood dripping in her eyes from the gash on her forehead prevented her tears from flowing freely, but it didn't stop her from crying on the inside.
Jaina didn't want to die. There were so many things she still wanted to achieve: she wanted to marry, have children, and maybe one day, if she was fortunate, see the end of this war.
But it seemed the force had other plans for her, and if this was the way she had to go – if this really was her destiny – then at least she had the chance to go down fighting.
The eldest Solo swung her saber in a one-armed defensive motion, cutting off the hand of an attacking warrior in the process, it's bloodied amphistaff falling limply to the ground with the severed limb.
At leat she had the chance to make her family proud.
Another Vong threatened her resistance with its weapon, the living blade meeting her manufactured one with a thick crackle. She pushed against her opponent's stance, trying to guide their swords down to her right arm, which was glued to the wall by a lump of pale green jelly.
If she could just get free of the organic material, then she'd have a real chance of beating the warriors.
Jaina flinched as the beam of cerulean light started to eat through her armoured jumpsuit, and next, the soft flesh of her upper arm. She could feel the jelly slowly peeling away from the wall and knew that the pain, and the injury, was worth it.
Maybe she didn't have to die, after all...
The burning in her arm stopped abruptly, and she noticed that the warrior she'd fended off earlier now had her free hand locked with his, rendering her unable to move.
Jaina let out a dry gasp as the point of a spitting staff flew towards her pulsing throat.
This was it, she thought. Goodbye, Jacen! Goodbye...
Anakin!
A violet blur shot in front of her face, just managing to block the deadly attack. Her coffee-coloured eyes shone with grateful tears as the rugged form of her youngest sibling came into view.
She was saved!
A mass of flying granules soar through the air from Anakin's out-stretched palm, connecting with the Blorash jelly holding her in place and sizzling on impact.
The arsensalts made short work of the hardened goo, and in to time at all, Jaina had full mobility once again, joining her brother in destroying her captors.
Anakin leapt in the air, hurling himself at a group of snarling Yuuzhan Vong, spinning his sword from side to side. She backed him up, blasting a hole through the shattered vonduun shell of one warrior and crushing another with a force-propelled sheet of durasteel.
"Thanks," she panted, parrying out of a close-combat situation and rolling underneath a spearing amphistaff.
"What are brothers for?" Anakin grunted, flashing a bright grin and slicing low with his saber.
Jaina was forced away from him by a mass of thud bugs thrown her way, and moments after she'd turned her back, she heard a sharp intake of breath from her previous position.
What she saw when she faced back the way she'd come froze the blood in her veins...
A straightened amphistaff sat next to Anakin's abdomen, blocked from skewering him by a line of jade light.
"Jacen!" Anakin exclaimed in surprise.
Jaina let out the breath she didn't know she's been holding, relieved that her twin had managed to arrive at just the right time. If he'd been half a second later, she didn't want to think what might have happened.
The two boys cut their way out from where they'd just been boxed in, Jacen jumping up the slope and landing next to her. Anakin started to follow, but their older brother pointed in the opposite direction, his voice loud and commanding.
"Go and help Tahiri! I've got this covered."
The youngest Solo shook his head stubbornly, continuing on the same path. As soon as he was at their side, Jacen grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, pointing once again at a swarm of Yuuzhan Vong on the other side of the open square.
"No! Tahiri needs you!"
At first, Jaina wondered what had caught the warriors' attention so fully. She'd never seen them look so frenzied before, the way they were clawing in a tight circle reminiscent of a pack of hungry voxyn at dinnertime.
And then she saw a quick flash of blonde hair, and the whiz of a green blade through the bunch of scarred bodies, and knew exactly what they were fighting over...
Tahiri!
The sinking, sick feeling in her heart mirrored Anakin's as his gaze rested on the struggling form of his girlfriend, trapped in a ring of bloodthirsty enemies.
"Go, Anakin!" Jaina croaked hoarsely, barely able to contain her emotions over what she'd just seen.
Her little brother didn't need to be told again. By the time she'd glance back at his lean frame, he was already sprinting towards Tahiri.
She felt her twin's familiar touch on her mind and gritted her teeth, reluctantly turning away from the heartbreaking scene playing out in front of her.
"We have to help the others!" Jacen's voice rang out in her head, and she knew he was right. There was nothing they could do for Anakin and Tahiri now. They had a job to do, and they also had to keep the rest of the strike team safe.
The team came before any individual – her little brother had said that himself.
She cut down on the back of a warrior facing away from her and growled as a razor bug hit her in the calf. If the force should take Anakin and Tahiri today, she would grieve for them when she was home.
But not before.
---
She inhaled sharply, the quick intake of breath sucking in her stomach just enough to narrowly avoid a dangerous amphistaff swipe.
The Yuuzhan Vong were all around her; scarred and mutilated bodies as far as the eye could see.
A sea of angry aliens and bloodied weapons... and she was in the middle of it.
Tahiri ducked and weaved under attack after attack, spinning her own blade furiously from side to side, desperate to cut a gap in the enemy's blockade.
She was trying not to show any fear, knowing full well that the Vong would be able to smell it. The leering grins forming at the corners of their segmented mouths, however, showed her that she was failing miserably.
They knew she was afraid, and they were taking advantage of it.
The young girl screamed as a stray coufee sliced down the length of her exposed right arm, ripping through her armoured jumpsuit and severing muscles and tendons.
She retaliated instantly, adrenaline pulling her through the blinding pain.
Slash.
Hack.
Jab.
Two warriors fell, their open wounds still emanating smoke.
Parry.
Cut.
Spike.
And another one, rolling around at her feet, both arms missing.
Her emerald blade was moving so fast in her hands that it was humming, illuminating the faces of her enemies in a ghostly pale green glow, before she removed them from their torsoes.
Tahiri had tuned out of the battle meld long ago, the pressures of her current fight so great, that it was taking all of her strength and force awareness just to keep herself alive.
She only hoped that someone would come to her aide soon. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.
The Vong were learning – coming at her harder and faster, and chopping at her legs and ankles with their living weapons.
Tahiri found herself in a continuous leap, jumping back in the air as soon as her booted feet had hit the ground, each time getting closer to being collected by the jarring spikes.
Sweat was pouring out of every orifice, mixing with the blood that was leaking out of her numerous wounds, and wafting a sickly sweet smell into her flaring nostrils.
The saccharine scent was so overpowering that it was causing Tahiri to gag.
An amphistaff plummeted through the horde of armoured bodies, heading straight for the young Jedi's groin. She deftly caught it between her upper thighs, clamping her legs shut around the writhing organism and twisting it out of her attacker's grasp.
Tahiri used the momentum to flick the alien weapon into her free hand, shuddering as the smooth life form coiled itself around her forearm. The texture of the shaft seared through the pads on her fingers as she gripped it, bringing a memory she never knew she had to the surface.
It was a memory of her false life; one that had been implanted by the very enemy that stood before her.
Tahiri looked down at the staff in her hand and smiled wickedly. She knew how to use this.
With her lightsaber in one hand and amphistaff in the other, the shaped Jedi began cutting down her enemies with practised ease, the latter weapon flicking around the pack of warriors and spitting poisonous venom like it had a mind of its own.
The part of her mind that was now occupied by the mythical persona of Riina took control then, pirouetting on the spot, with both swords whipping in a circle above her head.
She splayed her wrists mid-turn, letting the molten light slice through one warrior and the now rigid edge of the living staff sever another at the neck. Dark crimson blood rained down on her as she ducked under the headless body, plunging the venomous tip of the stolen weapon up through the centre of a towering soldier.
Unfortunately for the Yuuzhan Vong, they hadn't thought to put armour in such a place. They were going to pay dearly for that mistake today.
Tahiri broke her combat concentration for a split second in order to project her finding through the meld: their nether regions are exposed!
Hopefully, this would make the task of killing them a little easier for the others, especially since a lot of the Vong were still shamelessly using the slaves in order to remain alive.
Her break in focus may have helped her fellow Jedi, but all it did for Tahiri was put her at considerable risk. She evaded a lightning fast jab from a coufee just in time, the organic blade slicing so close to her earlobe that she could feel the cool rush of wind its movement produced.
"That was too close!" she mumbled, wiping the beads of sweat and blood from her forehead and setting her eyes with a hardened resolve.
Riina took over again, enhancing Tahiri's power and speed with the amphistaff. This gain, however, only managed to weaken her skill with the lightsaber, and in the end, she dropped it in favour of the living weapon.
Grasping the coiled staff in two hands now, the young Jedi growled an aggressive Yuuzhan Vong battle cry – "Do-ro'ik vong pratte!"
And then she charged.
Slash.
Hack.
Spike.
The alien weapon glided through her hands, almost as if it were a second limb.
Jab.
Slice.
Splinter.
It was so much more maneuverable than a lightsaber. Tahiri questioned why she'd never thought to use one before now. She tumbled out of a myriad of attacks, rolling to the edge of the circle.
Freedom was almost hers.
The Jedi rose confidently from her evasive crouch, her lips twitching in an arrogant grin. She could do this; the youngest member of the strike team, and she was about to defeat an entire legion of warriors.
Tahiri pivoted on one leg, kicking out with the other and thrusting out her staff in a two-handed swipe. Her weapon met the face of a particularly large Vong, while her foot arced up into the bare groin of a smaller male, smashing against bone and muscle, before again finding the ground.
What she didn't consider with such a showy display of skill, however, was the fact that she'd left the right side of her torso unguarded, sending out an open invitation to the armed warriors that were still standing.
One took advantage of her careless error in judgment, taking the length of his poisoned staff and spearing it through her abdomen.
The instant the barb pierced her internal organs, Tahiri knew she was going to die. Screaming out from the excruciating pain, the young girl tore the imbedded weapon from her body, and threw it over the heads of the Vong.
She fought against the dark cloud that had already begun to consume her mind, willing her arms to keep swinging, and her legs to keep moving.
It was useless. Her weakened knees buckled beneath her weight, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
As she drifted on the edge of death and sanity, her ears picked up the muffled cries of someone very familiar...
"Tahiri! TAHIRI!"