The Promised Ones
Her shuttle landed and she disembarked, walking without the need of escort. Her black robes billowed in the dark Corellian night, the wind at the height of the starscrapers seemed to only make her appearance even more daunting. The doors hissed open and closed immediately after she entered the warm, well-lit room. She paid the light no mind, as what she sought stood in front of her very eyes.
8 figures stood before her, all male and clad in dark clothing. Of the group of men, 5 were nonhuman—all were senators. One figure was a Neimoidian, clothed in the finest dark crimson robes; two were the bald, grey-clad Umbarans; another was a violet-clad, green-skinned Twi'lek; and two were military uniformed Bothans. One of two Bothans ranking in the upper echelons of the Republic.
"Ah, Mistress Atris," a familiar man spoke. It was General Erik Scrimshaw himself, his Republic military uniform revealing an orderly young man who had achieved an exceptionally high rank for someone his age. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
"Likewise, General," she nodded her head.
He went on to introduce the Senators, most of which she barely paid any attention to, until he finally came on to one of the key figures most precious to her—currently. "And here is the head of Republic Intelligence, Director Tamar Gran'gerst."
The older Bothan bowed. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mistress Atris."
"Indeed," she replied politely. "I trust that we will meet our target date—thanks to you, Director Gran'gerst?"
The camel-faced humanoid smiled, "of course. I obtained the samples and I must say, they are making excellent progress."
She felt his voice tremor slightly. Fear so soon? She bit back the chance to smile at their well-founded fear. "Is there a problem?" She asked.
"Unfortunately yes, Mistress," Scrimshaw replied.
Tamar shot the General a reproachful expression.
Atris couldn't help but be amused by the Bothan's antics.
Clearing his throat, the Head of Republic Intelligence gestured for Atris to follow.
She did likewise, hearing attentively as Tamar spoke.
Everyone else followed the procession.
"As you know, the Promised Ones' training goes well. They seem to excel beyond anything we hoped. They will provide a great deal of security to the Galaxy, Mistress," he said, booming with some measure of pride.
"Indeed they will," she replied. Atris couldn't help but be annoyed with his tone, smug attitude and that he continued to delay what she wanted to hear.
"Well, of the vat, there were 24," he went on. "They all moved to optimal readings, however, as we noticed, within 3 years, some of them began to act…odd."
"Odd?" Now this had peaked her interest. "Define 'odd,' Director Gran'gerst."
"We noticed that four had become something akin to twins, the two pairs seemed to coordinate themselves well when it came to tactical scenarios. Now, when it comes to creating these vats, they take on some form of independence—something akin to taking one gender over the other, minute traits really. Since this was our first vat, the others had gone insane—some mutilated themselves, others were just…deformed."
"Deformed?" She paused and looked at the Bothan. "How so?"
"You better look for yourself, Mistress," he said as they entered a turbolift that guided the group down towards the underground levels.
As the doorway opened, it revealed a circular observation deck. Outside of the observation deck, thousands of large polygonal shaped vats littered the area, almost as if they were hanging in mid-air. The procession walked onto the observation deck and felt the rumbling and shuddering of the deck as it guided them down towards an even lower level.
As the observation deck stopped, dark shutters that blocked the transparisteel glass opened, revealing a large arena. It seemed something akin to a training ground. Everywhere was covered in a dark substance that could only be blood—and gore. Lots of it. There were even some corpses that lay all over the arena. It appeared that no one had the nerve to clean it. Some of the bodies were even gnawed at.
"This is where we train them and test their skills," Tamar said softly.
"And what of these 'mutilated' specimens?" She was undeniably curious.
"Well Mistress, they are vicious—far more cruel than the others. We had to put down most of them. Unfortunately," he added, "one of the four excellent specimens were killed—which prompted us to eliminate the contaminated ones. The death of the twin had an impact on its counterpart—forcing it to release itself and make its way onto the surface of the planet. Unfortunately, my men reported that it was killed before we could get a hold of that one."
"What happened to the others?"
"We still have the other pair and four of the deformed. During the broken twin's escape, three of the contaminated—that is a deformed and two of the mutilated specimens—managed to leave on board a spice freighter. We don't exactly know its whereabouts—but one of our vessels picked it up and eliminated the freighter, as per my orders."
"So where did your cruiser find it, Director?"
"On its way to Kashyyyk. The vessel crashed somewhere in the Shadowlands. Reports stated that nothing survived the crash," he sniffed.
"I see." So, even in its grotesque state, it would follow its predecessor. Excellent. She looked out at the arena and noticed some shuffling in a dark corner. "What is it that you have to show me, Director?"
"Allow me to introduce the last of the contaminated," he said. He tapped a key on the console next to him and he spoke into it. "Release the Gammas."
Suddenly four cages rose and in it presented disfigured and naked humanoids. They had all gone insane, and had sliced parts of their bodies away from them. One had even removed its ears and hair on its head. They seemed to bare an odd resemblance towards the Rakghouls on the late planet Taris.
"As you know," Tamar continued, "we have genetically modified them to be a bit more docile. The successful ones—the 'Alphas'—have some degree of independence, but follow our orders. They are tailored to take direct orders from you, Mistress." The greying Bothan tapped another key and a fifth cage rose, revealing a confused individual, wearing the robes of a Jedi. "We had caught him trying to sneak into our facility. Naturally, to prevent anyone not directly tied to you, from gaining any knowledge of Operation: Guardian Shield, we chose to capture him."
She felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor man, who had no clue what he was doing there. She felt the Force flow through him strongly, but she knew the Gammas were so much more perverse and stronger, through the Dark Side of the Force. Something that she found herself even slightly abhorred to, as she gazed at the aberrations of the Living Force. "What is his name?" She found herself asking before she realized it. She silently chided herself for that.
"According to our records, he is a Jedi named Gideon Fallout. He was caught snooping around here. We threw on a Force-restraint collar and confiscated his lightsaber."
"I believe you are about to give me a demonstration as to their brutality then, I take it?"
"That is correct Mistress." He tapped another key and released the glowing, golden-tinted forcefield that held the helpless Jedi in place.
The Jedi Knight found himself free, but unable to release the collar that was wrapped around his neck. He suddenly saw a glinting object and realized it for what it was. A vibrosword. His heart rose. He grabbed the weapon as he noticed four golden-tinted forcefields shimmered away.
"This shall prove to be most interesting," she said, as the Senators and officers nodded with some delight. It appeared this had not been the first time since they had seen something like this. How crude and barbaric it is to witness how well these things will perform for me. It is a necessity, she reasoned.
Gideon readied himself, as four gruesome forms raced towards him. Fearing for his life, he slash his blade horizontally, shearing away a hand from one of the creatures as the others leapt at him, eager to overwhelm him and feast on his body. He kicked one of the creatures square in the jaw as it tried to bite at him, allowing him the chance to drive the sword into the fallen humanoid's chest.
It screamed out one final time, as the other two rushed out at Gideon.
The poor Knight barely stood a chance against these things as one of the creatures' hands bore into him at his shoulder. Screaming out, Gideon drove a fist into the creature and picked up the sword, arcing it upwards and into the stomach of the amputated creature he had first struck.
Now there were two.
Gideon found himself fighting for his very life, screaming with primal rage as he swung the sword ungracefully around him, eager to thwart the creatures.
One of the humanoids began to back away, picking up a staff from one of its previous victims.
Oh my, Atris thought, he's in for quite a surprise. She couldn't help but be amused with the antics of the creatures and the flailing Jedi.
The other creature cocked its head to one side, and grinned at the Jedi as it jumped away, allowing its companion to assault the Jedi with the staff.
If Gideon had ever been caught surprised, it would have been now. He angled the sword to deflect the thrust that would have impaled him on the spot, as he noticed the other creature extend one hand out towards him, blue energy crackling to life as it came towards him. Without thinking, he ducked and rolled off to one side, taking satisfaction at hearing one of the creatures—presumably the one with the staff—scream out in pain and even more pain as its other companion continued its relentless assault with Force Lightning.
The creature had fallen into bloodlust, pouring more of its rage and frenzy into its now charred companion. It turned around, grinning with eyes burning wildly and lusting for the blood of the Jedi.
Gideon felt himself growing weaker, but he knew it was almost over. If only he could kill this last one, then he would figure out how to escape this ordeal. He was panting and out of breath as he watched the last one leap at him. Gideon didn't have his connection to the Force, but he fell back on his training, allowing his honed body to give him the edge.
The creature pounced, claws ready to tear into the flesh of the human and feast on him.
Gideon crouched and pointed his blade towards the leaping creature, to watch the blade run through it, impaling the monstrous humanoid as it leapt over him, crashing into the tired Jedi.
The creature moaned in pain as it began to gurgle blood. But before it would die, its teeth had found its way into the already sliced shoulder of the Jedi, causing the man to scream in pain and fear as the creature's life whittled away.
He knocked the creature over, feeling his muscles tear—some of it undoubtedly inside the mount of the beast—as he began to bleed profusely from the wound. He was moaning and panting as he looked up at the observation window to see several figures there. He instantly recognized two of them: the Bothan head of Republic Intelligence and the Jedi Dante had been sent to find, Atris. "Are you not happy? I defeated your beasts! Let me go free!" He yelled. He collapsed to the ground.
"Well, it would appear that the Gammas are not as effective as you claimed," Atris said to the Director, her tone revealing her amusement.
"Well, now it is time to show you the real prize, Mistress," he said, once more booming with some measure of pride.
Atris found herself growing irate at the very presence of the Director.
He once more tapped a key on the console and spoke into it. "Release the Alphas."
"Ah, now I see your intentions, Director," she said to him, her expression without a trace of humour.
Of course, the Bothan didn't realize that. He figured all Jedi—especially where Atris was concerned—were devoid of emotion. "Well," he began, his voice thick with pride, "they are by far the best. And the survivors of the first batch. We have used their modified DNA for the other vats—which are all successful and still under heavy development. Your trainers have personally trained the Alphas. They've learned of their skills in the Force and excel at assassination and black ops missions."
"So soon?" Atris' voice betrayed her surprise.
"Yes Mistress, and they work well together. You'll be very proud of them when you receive them today—that is, after their demonstration."
Gideon looked around and saw something shimmer around him. "More of them?" He stood up, his legs felt wobbly and he knew he was losing blood fast. He couldn't use the Force and he knew there were techniques in the Force with which there is no defence. He could only hope that his death would be quick.
Suddenly two figures emerged from thin air, they wore dark masks and only their fiery eyes and dark hair could be seen. They ignited crimson blades and walked undaunted towards him.
He felt this presence before—at one point. His eyes opened wide as he realized where he had felt their presences. Before he could even wrap his mind around this new revelation, however, his head hit the ground, along with the rest of his body.
The Alpha Assassins moved quickly and had impressed her. "Most impressive," she said to the Bothan, who seemed to take her remark to heart.
"Thank you Mistress. I trust there will be a time soon when we can remove our…enemies?"
"Rest assured, Director, that the time shall come swiftly. And you shall be properly rewarded—as will the rest of you," she said to the group, who nodded gratefully. "I believe now it is time for me to leave—with my new acquisitions."
"Ah yes, of course, Mistress. They shall be waiting for you at your shuttle."
"Good."
"Also," Tamar said, his voice revealing that there was something else, "I have to show you something of interest to you, Mistress."
"What is it, Director?" She was growing annoyed with the Bothan and his desire to draw out this meeting as if it were something grand. She even found herself tempted to cut him down—him and that despicable smile that crept across his face every time he revealed something to her.
"You need to see the Beta."
This caught her off guard, but her voice belied her surprise. "Beta?"
He coughed, his pride slightly bruised from her cold expression. "Uh, yes, Mistress, the Beta."
She stood waiting for an explanation—as did the rest of the procession.
"From the first vat, we've seen few successes and many failures. Where Horn and Torn—the, ah, Alphas—were intrinsically exceptional in assassination and covert, cloak and dagger simulations and skills, the Beta is rather gifted in the means of raw strength in the Force. And his skill with the lightsaber makes him far more deadly in open combat than the other two. Quite the irony," he said.
"You mean to tell me that this 'Beta' is far more powerful than the Alphas?" Her expression seemed most curious as to this new entity.
"Ah, yes, Mistress," he answered, his pride slowly gaining strength over him. "You see," he explained, "the one issue with the Beta—Deus—is that he is blind."
"Blind?"
He nodded. "We have been experimenting with the failures, in order to see if there was anything we could salvage. Right now," he gestured, "we're creating a vat of Betas, since Deus seemed to work out so well."
"How so?" She had to hide her disgust at the pitiful creature before her, as she knew that only by experimenting with these gruesome failures would she have something far more desirable for her agenda.
"Well, though Deus is blind, we outfitted him with prosthetics. His eyes are now nothing more than what appear to be permanently grafted Bothan Intelligence goggles." He couldn't help but smile at those last words. His people were aiding in something that would benefit them and rid the Galaxy of a nuisance that should have died a long time ago. Truly, honour would come gloriously to his people.
"Let me see him," Atris demanded.
"Of course." He tapped another key and the shutters closed, and the observation platform shuddered slightly, revealing that they were moving upwards once more.
After a few more moments, the procession finally reached the final stage. And as the shutters opened, a man, clad in black robes and with a pair of goggles grafted to his eyes, stepped out to greet the group.
"My lady," Tamar said, his hand gesturing towards the figure that now entered the observation platform, "this is Deus."
The blind figure knelt before Atris.
"Is he ready?" She asked the Bothan.
"Yes, Mistress. He seems intent on being your personal bodyguard—he has been since the beginning."
"Bodyguard?"
"Yes. He takes your orders without question—with the exception of some of us, of course," he smiled, "but he is undeniably loyal to you."
"Good. Very well then," she said with some resignation, "we shall be leaving tonight. Keep me informed, Director."
"Of course, Mistress," Tamar bowed, as did the rest of the procession.
With that set in place, Atris left. There was much work left to be accomplished. But one of her stages was set: the Galaxy would soon find itself in a sea of flames as it relived one of its greatest nightmares in its time. And this time, Atris would be there to relish in delight over it.
