CHAPTER XIV
Tyk Zyr, President of the New Republic, stood on his balcony. From the Senate building, he could see much of Coruscant, the ever-reaching cityscape.
He wore a white tunic, which created a sharp contrast against his blue hair and red eyes. It was a good outfit; probably his most iconic appearance.
He had been president for three years, and he knew that he was a divisive figure. Being the first Chiss to ever be president of the galaxy would always inevitably cause some controversy. Being the successor to the great war heroine Leia Organa would also be difficult, even though he had forever tarnished her legacy by revealing she had been the biological daughter of Darth Vader.
But Zyr's presidency had been mired in its own scandals. Since his inauguration, the talk of a Sith uprising had been constant, and it was well known that the fugitive Kylo Ren had been at large. Though Ren had kept quiet for the last three years, it had cast a pall over Zyr's entire term. Of course, he had never been afraid of him; he had a team of seven bodyguards and knew that no Sith Lord, no matter how power-hungry, would dare assassinate a sitting president.
Many had been critical of him, and he had heard rumors of the Resistance, a guerilla group that had been created just to combat the Sith "in the absence of a strong leader."
Well, who cared about them? Zyr had what he wanted: a comfortable office, a galaxy to govern, and even if he was unpopular with the people, he had no real strong opponent in the next election. It was a year and a half away in case; why worry about it now?
Suddenly he heard a noise coming from inside his office!
He turned, and in one second, all his fears were confirmed. All seven of his bodyguards lay dead on the ground, a pile of corpses. The assassin was a blonde woman who wore the garbs of the Sith. She stood silently in the middle of the room, staring directly at him.
Zyr instinctively knew this was it for him. His death had come and it would not be special or ceremonious. All he had spent these last few years building would be taken in the blink of an eye and no one would hardly notice.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The Sith woman removed her hood, allowing her blonde hair to flow in the breeze. She really was a beauty for such a tall woman.
"My name is Darth Phasma," she said.
"You serve Kylo Ren?"
"Yes. I am proud to call him my leader."
Zyr sighed. Of course Ren would be the instrument behind his death. Years of bodyguards, of political maneuvering, of always looking over her shoulder, and none of it mattered. When Ren wanted him dead, all it took was a few shakes of an assassin's tail to get the job done in one evening.
The woman named Phasma ignited her lightsaber, but Zyr darted away!
With a second wind, he had already reached the edge of the balcony where he had a hidden blaster. By the time Phasma was on him, he had already fired off three shots, though she was able to deflect all three with her saber!
"You have quick reflexes, even for a Chiss," she said with a small hint of admiration.
"Don't drool over me just yet," Zyr said, then fired another shot!
Phasma managed to do an impressive backflip just in time, avoiding the blast, and landing nimbly on her feet! Zyr rose to his feet.
"Face it, Zyr. It's over. Even if you were to kill me, your government's in pieces, your bought senators all slaughtered like cattle!"
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because it pleased me to do so. Because I wanted to kill the fatted calf, and work my way up. Now I only need to lop off the head!"
She charged towards Zyr again. He was able to get one more shot out, but she dodged it easily. As he raised his arm again and began to take aim, she swung her lightsaber!
With a single stroke, Zyr's entire arm was sliced off!
He howled in pain and reached for his socket, but there was only a stump in its place! Zyr had always heard that lightsabers would immediately cauterize all wounds, but somehow this was worse. Had he been bleeding profusely, it would have felt normal, like an indication that he was supposed to have an arm. But going from having an arm to having a dried stump felt worse, as if he had been instantly dehumanized!
As he processed the pain while watching his severed arm on the floor, Phasma was already lifting her saber for the fatal blow.
"This is the end of the line for you, President Zyr. I now claim this government in the name of the Sith!"
And as she swung once more, he instinctively leapt backwards off the balcony! He made one of the largest backflips he had ever attempted, and he managed to escape!
He landed several yards below on the front steps of the Senate building, breaking his leg in the process!
He stood up in agony; yes, he was still missing an arm and now had a broken leg on top of that, but at least he was alive, and was pretty sure he could still outrun this Phasma woman.
But he had only hobbled a few feet away before he was recognized on the street. The citizens of Coruscant were all looking at him.
"It's the president! President Zyr!"
"Help!" Zyr cried, "The capital is under attack! A Sith woman has come after me!"
Their eyes only looked back at him, and Zyr realized for the first time how much the feeling of contempt he had always felt for the people had truly been mutual. There were murmurs throughout the crowd. Zyr could vaguely make out questions: "What's wrong with him?" "Is he dying?"
"Please!" Zyr cried out, "If you value your Republic-if you value your Senate-you'll help me."
And with those words, one faceless person from the mob came forward and stabbed him! It took Zyr a second to realize that a large knife was suddenly protruding from his chest. Then a second person came forth, then a third.
And soon it was over. Tyk Zyr was killed by not one person but by the entire faceless mob.
Up on the balcony, Phasma watched all this with a smile. It was the most successful coup d'etat in history. The masses of Coruscant had finally spoken and deposed their own president-in the loudest and clearest way possible.
