Hollow Victory
Frreral was thrown back into the wall, grunting as he connected to it.
Jolee brought his lightsaber towards his Wookiee companion, deflecting the killing blow that would have ended Frreral's life.
His rage growing, along with his hysteria, Horn backhanded Jolee, forcing the older Jedi to stumble back dazed. Seizing the moment, Horn brought his lightsaber over his head and slashed down, hoping to end the old man's life once and for all.
Frreral growled and extended his hands, sending Horn flying into a wall, buying both he and Jolee enough time to rise and grab their lightsabers, igniting them the moment the worn grips came into their hands.
"Thanks," Jolee muttered, leveling his blade to meet Horn, who—along with his ire—was now rising.
"Anytime," Frreral replied, poising himself ready to take the Sith.
"Now!" Jolee screamed.
The pair of Jedi rushed Horn, forcing the Sith to bring his lightsaber around him, creating an impenetrable barrier of lacerating energy.
Horn snarled as his arms raced to deflect each and every strike the pair of old and weaker Jedi sent his way. I am far more powerful than them! Why am I losing? He continued to take a step back every chance he had, knowing that he was giving ground while that void continued to weigh down on him.
Unlike Rena, he had never been taught to suppress the bond with his twin. Now it was being used against him.
Frreral slashed down, hoping to cleave his opponent, only to find his feet in the air.
Horn crouched, extending his legs and pivoted around, knocking the Wookiee Jedi out of the fight for a moment.
Jolee furrowed his brow, knowing that he couldn't very well take on the Revan clone on his own, even if the clone was in his weakened state.
Seeing the older Jedi pause for a brief second, Horn seized the moment, lunging at the Jedi Master.
Jolee managed to bring his lightsaber up in time, deflecting the strike and countering with his elbow snapping into Horn's temple.
The assassin stumbled and turned around, only to be greeted by the furry fist of a very angry Wookiee.
Grunting, Horn found himself cast several feet away, landing on his back. He groaned for a moment, casting aside the pain that wracked across his body. The void continued to press down on him.
"Let's end this," Frreral said, watching Horn rise and ignite his lightsaber for the final time.
This would be the final defining moment to determine who would walk out alive.
Poising their blades, the pair of Jedi waited until Horn lunged at them a final time.
"I won't be defeated! I will make you pay for the death of my brother!" He cried out; spittle flying everywhere as he raced towards them.
Both Jedi met him with their own charge, hoping they would complete their mission.
He met them blade for blade, as the room dazzled with the trio of colours and molten panels that sizzled and flew all over the deck.
This was his moment to shine.
He would exact all vengeance for what they did to Torn.
Horn realized at the point he would stop at nothing until he eliminated all Jedi—Traya be damned.
Ducking from one of his swings, Jolee pirouetted and slammed the younger man in the face with his elbow.
Frreral locked blades with the Sith and shoved him back.
Horn found the truth within his mind. He wouldn't be defeated. He smiled, knowing he had one trick left up his sleeve.
Both Jedi attacked Horn with all the strength, speed and hope they could muster against the clone, knowing full well what would lie before the rest of the Galaxy if they failed here and now.
The trio continued to fight as a blur. Each of their strikes was nothing more than flurry after flurry, as they raced towards the engineering deck of the vessel.
Jolee managed to block the slash to decapitate him, struggling against the strength of the young Sith who continued to bear down on him.
Attempting to take the chance to cut him down, Frreral slashed across the Sith's back, only to find his face connected with the sole of Horn's boot.
Jolee glanced, only to feel a sharp searing pain rake across his shoulder. He gasped and lost his grip, which gave Horn more time to sweep the old man's feet off the floor.
Landing on his back, dazed and in pain, Jolee couldn't help but notice the crimson shaft raising high into the air and ready to cut him to pieces.
Rising slowly, Frreral's eyes shot open as he laid witness to the might of the Revanite.
I will have my vengeance, Horn thought deliciously, his blade high over his head. "Now you will die, old man." The blade came bearing down.
The void's crushing weight finally fell.
He let out a gasp as hot energy cauterized his body.
Jolee glanced away from Horn and to the golden lightsaber that had appeared just to Horn's right rib cage.
"But—I—had—vengeance," Horn managed, before he fell to the ground in two pieces.
Jolee let out a sigh of relief and glanced at the furry paw that appeared out of nowhere. Taking it, he rose and dusted himself off. "What took you so long?" He couldn't help but ask the Wookiee, as he called his blade to his hand.
Dante fired one shot into the faceplate of his first opponent and then another, followed by two more quick taps to the trigger that sent his foe down in a smoking heap.
He grimaced slightly, but he couldn't help but admire the power of the weapon in his hand. "If only lightsabers had this kind of punch."
To reply to his murmur, a stray blaster bolt crashed into a panel behind him, causing him to duck for cover.
Several more blaster bolts crashed against his cover, but glanced harmlessly away.
After he had sent that second plasma grenade towards them when he had jumped out of the courier, they had burned up under the explosion, turning into molten armour or droid parts. Everything else that was biological had vapourized.
He sighed, taking care to check his power gauge. Half-empty, he thought mirthlessly. Or half-full depending on your point of view. He sighed. Closing his eyes, he felt the presence of the trio of Sith moving towards him slowly, almost cautiously.
It appeared they hadn't thought much of a Jedi with a blaster until he had actually killed most of their comrades.
They moved as one, rounding the bend of his cover. They brought their blasters to level on the lump of nothingness that was there.
"Where'd he go?" The lead Sith muttered.
The response that came surprised the trio.
A blaster bolt crashed into the back of the lead Sith's head, exiting with a little neat hole through his faceplate.
On instinct, the other two rolled away and turned, laying down crimson fire that glanced all over the hangar bay.
Dante rolled behind the crates where the Sith had been but a few moments prior to the switch. Before he could take any cover, however, his eyes caught a marking near to them that designated 'flammable.'
He could only smile.
The Sith continued to lay down fire, while they were slowly backing away.
"We need reinforcements!" Cried one of the soldiers into his comlink.
No reply was forthcoming.
They continued firing until the reached their cover and ran out of power.
"Reload!" The same soldier ordered.
Ejecting their packs with the precision of elite warriors, they slapped in new power packs and waited for them to charge, until they heard something clatter and roll.
"Do you hear that?" The other asked quietly.
"Yeah," the first one answered. "It's quiet."
"No," the second corrected. "There's something….rolling?"
"Rolling? What in the blazes do you mean?"
As if to answer the first's question, a small round object rolled right past them. Their eyes tracked it and it took a few moments to register what it was, until it clanked against the pod that said 'flammable.'
"Run!"
A loud explosion ripped through the hangar bay, sending a wave of heat towards Dante, sending the Knight flying back and surprisingly, out of harm's way.
The other two Sith, however, were not so lucky.
Landing on his back, Dante wiped his face that was covered in somewhat evapourated sweat. He ran his hand through his hair, glad to feel its presence and know that only few strands of his hair had been singed.
Out of grenades and low on ammunition, Dante rose and left the rest of the hangar, ignoring the maintenance droids that came by to attend to the situation in the hangar.
He continued his way throughout the corridors, trying to remember which hallway led to which area. He had spent some time aboard Republic cruisers, but that had been a few years ago. He had spent the last five on board the Vaapad.
His eyes caught a flickering panel and his moved to it, careful not to reveal his presence. He felt hardly anyone on board the ship, as it was already. He felt the few flickers of life, the distinct presences of his friends and the very faint whirls of energy that were the droids that were still stationed aboard the ship. Whatever Sith presence was on board the ship was now gone—either through the damage the ship was taking or through the end of a lightsaber or blaster bolt.
Sighing, Dante glanced at the panel and found that he was in the right corridor that would lead him to where he had seen Visas fighting for her life.
Hold on, Visas, he thought determinedly. I'm coming for you. I won't let you down. He began to race through the hallways, evading debris and bodies alike.
Rounding a bend, Dante managed a lucky shot as he was caught between a pair of droids that glanced at him and took a moment to register that he was an intruder.
Luckily the first blast had caused the amphibian designed droid to call in its defensive mode, raising its shields and taking a step back before it used its 'arms' to propel it forward.
He raced back, avoiding the fire that lanced around him, slamming into consoles.
Almost on instinct, the Jedi turned around and fired rapidly towards a damaged console, overloading it and causing the power to surge.
The electric field glittered over the pair of droids, causing a pair of small explosions under the optical sensors, forcing the droids' shields to flicker once, then twice and fade.
Seizing the moment, Dante quickly fired into the optical sensor of the first droid he attacked and took pride in it exploding and sending a shower of debris over its comrade.
Dante managed to roll away, only to crash into the back of a wall. Landing on his bottom, he moaned and quickly rose, accidentally thumbing a switch on the pistol without so much as noticing it.
The second droid continue to make its way towards him, firing its occasional blaster his way.
The Jedi managed to take cover amongst the debris and fallen bodies, before he took aim and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing came out.
"What in the blazes?" He managed before he heard a whine that slowly grew louder.
His eyes went wide as a large ball of energy shot forth from the blaster and slammed right into the droid, tearing away through the plating and causing its power cell to ignite, detonating the droid all over the hallway.
Bringing his hands to cover him, Dante avoided most of the debris that rained over him, save for a few scratches from the sharper and smaller parts of the dead droid.
He rose after a moment, his eyes roaming the scene before him. He glanced at his blaster and then back to the hallway.
His eyes strayed once more to the blaster before the ship shuddered slightly.
"I wonder what other surprises this baby has." He brought the blaster closer to his eyes, surveying the power gauge on it. He frowned.
The blaster pack was empty.
Ejecting it, he quickly removed another one from his belt and slapped it into place and let the gauge read it. "Come on," he whispered urgently, as he cautiously continued his trek down the hallway.
There was nothing else on the level he was on.
Satisfied he was alone; Dante picked up his pace and raced towards the corridor that led him to a four-way junction. His eyes roamed over the set of fallen bodies, until he began to notice a peculiar pattern about them.
They were all lying down in an almost circular pattern and there were gaping lightsaber wounds through their chests.
Normally, Jedi wouldn't kill their opponents, but these Sith struck him as something far more sinister and threatening if they were to be killed in the dishonourable manner they were.
He glanced across to their hands and he couldn't help but smirk. His gaze shifted to his pistol and he whispered, "as much as I love how you work, you're no lightsaber. I'll put you away for another time." He holstered the weapon and picked up one of the Sith's lightsabers. Rolling it around in his hand, he couldn't help but admire the overall quality of the lightsaber, despite the generic design.
His thumb tapped the activation plate and with a snap-hiss, a crimson shaft of energy shot forth, bathing the immediate area around him in a pale red glow.
"Most interesting," he couldn't help but say. "But now's not the time for petty admirations." His eyes roamed across the hallways, taking care to look for the scars of battle or cooled cuts in the flooring and walls. To his luck, he found several sears across the panels and bulkheads of the hallway that led to one area: the bridge. With as much speed as he could muster, Dante raced towards the bridge, hoping he would be able to get to Visas in time.
General Erik Scrimshaw jumped back from a console that exploded, sending sparks across its already dead control officer.
He looked back at space, ignoring the acrid smoke that filled the room and the alarms that were blaring all around him.
Beyond the Krayt lay the debris of vessels that had once been a part of his mighty fleet.
His fleet—and that of the Sith—had collapsed under the relentless fire of the Mandalorians and the Republic.
"How could this happen?" His eyes roamed the broken vessels that lay before him and around him.
Several were still on fire.
"How? How could this happen?"
"It was the Jedi," one of the remaining Sith soldiers said.
"The Jedi?" Erik hissed. "What do you mean 'the Jedi?'"
The soldier took an involuntary step back, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. It hardly occurred to him that he still had his blaster in his hand. "I was merely saying that the Jedi bolstered the Republic, sir."
Erik growled and in a blur an energy discharge came from his hand.
The Sith fell to the floor on his back, leaving a neat hole through his sternum.
"We had the Sith! They're more powerful than the Jedi!"
The other soldiers stared at one another and then glanced back at their leader, who had now proven that he was as unstable as they had previously assessed.
He glanced at the others, his officer's blaster still smoking from the energy it discharged from its barrel. "Anyone else have any bright ideas?"
No one said anything.
"Thought so."
He glanced back to the floating debris and the ship shuddered.
The Republic was coming.
Suddenly a console went online and began to beep.
His head perked up. The Mistress! She'll know what to do. We won't be beaten yet.
He turned around to order his remaining men to take stations, but he found none standing where they had been but a few short moments ago.
"Cowards," he spat, before he turned towards the console. He spotted a slumped figure on the console. It had been the officer he had spoken to before the battle had even begun.
Now it was all coming to an end.
He threw the body aside and looked at the console.
Activate Final Phase—terminate planets.
Confirm Order.
He smiled. This is it! He set his blaster aside and wiped his sweat and soot stained chin and typed in a confirmation order.
All warheads active.
He typed in another command to detonate the warheads.
All warheads will be detonated. Set Timer.
He smiled. "If I go down, so will your vaunted Republic, Onasi."
"I don't think so," came a startling voice, that caused him to jump and turn around, knocking his blaster to the ground in the process.
She stood there, with her veil covering her face, her lightsaber in hand and the unspoken threat standing there.
He glanced at her and took an involuntary step back, his hands behind him, tapping at something.
Timer cancelled.
Confirm remote detonation?
"You're too late. I hold the final key to destroying the Republic." His eyes shifted around him, careful not to attract the attention of the Jedi. He was almost sure she was blind. If so, then she wouldn't much of a problem. The only issue he had was that he had never encountered a Jedi who was blind.
"You're lying," she replied, her voice calm.
"Are you so certain?"
She was silent for a moment, an expression of serene calm on her face.
His eyes roamed around, looking for something he could catch her with. He couldn't reach for his blaster, knowing that it would take too long. But he did feel something else behind him—on the console. It was long and metallic, cut off into a shard. It was most likely something from the ceiling, but right now, it would help him.
She took a step towards him, her voice soft and almost like a whisper. "You don't want to do this, General. It's over, you've lost. You can still save your life and countless others."
He shook his head, "no, it's not over and I would rather die. Stay where you are—otherwise I'll activate the bombs!"
She shook her head and with a casual gesture, he was sent flying over to the other side, the sharp metallic rod flying away from his grasp.
He landed on the ground, with several pieces of debris driving into him, causing him to moan in pain. Rising, his eyes caught the glitter of something metallic. Focusing on it, he saw one of the Sith troopers' swords lay just before him.
Visas walked towards the console, typing in a command to deactivate it. The only problem was that it was now all or nothing. She typed in a command that returned the program to its root menu.
Deactivate warheads?
She tapped in a key that would signify the ending of the warheads. Before she could complete the sequence however, she heard Erik rise, dragging a metallic item with him.
She had no doubt it was a sword.
"Get away from there!" He screamed, lunging at her.
Moving swiftly, she avoided the tip of the blade, as it went into the console's screen, cracking and causing tendrils of electricity to run through the sword and into Erik Scrimshaw.
By his own hand, he had prevented the Sith trump card of destroying the Republic.
He screamed and groaned as rivulets of electricity ran through his body, causing him to slowly char and smoke.
Ignoring the sickly scent of cooking meat, she extended her hand and sent the burnt form of Erik Scrimshaw away from the console.
She couldn't help but shake her head in pity at the figure, as he lay there, moaning and whimpering from the pain that wracked his body.
He occasionally twitched, his eyes closed, as he continued to take unbearable pain.
She sighed, and moved away from the console, glancing at the tightly knit battle group of the Republic heading towards the battered capital ship.
The ship began to shudder again and again, with the promise of the Republic destroying the ship.
She turned around, hearing the sound of feet racing towards her. Activating her lightsaber, she prepared herself, only to see a human and a Wookiee ignite their lightsabers.
The expression on Jolee's face said it all. "Oh, it's just you. Left anyone else alive?"
She couldn't help but smirk in a very uncharacteristic manner. "Yes," she said, turning around, only to see that Scrimshaw had appeared to stop breathing. She frowned. She could feel that there was something not right. There was a whole familiarity about everything, but she couldn't be sure.
"Looks like we're too late," Frreral uttered, his hands quickly holding himself up near the wall as the ship lurched and a console sparked.
Jolee inhaled sharply, his face contorting into disgust. "What's that smell?"
"Smells good," Frreral replied.
"It was him," Visas said, pointing towards the unmoving figure of the General.
Before Frreral could mutter something else, the ship lurched again, signaling an array of warning lights that were left to be read on the few remaining consoles in the bridge.
"That's it—it's our time to go," Jolee muttered. He ran into the bridge and jumped over a few consoles. "The Republic's coming to destroy this ship and we're on it! We've done all we can, and it's obvious Bastila has the fleet in tip-top shape!"
They began to run towards the escape hatch and stopped for a moment.
"Get in," Visas said. "I'll signal a retreat for anyone who is left aboard."
"Trust me, Visas, anyone left in here has got to be working for the Sith."
The ship continued to shudder, blowing open a panel along the group of hatches.
"We need to go, now!" Frreral growled.
Jolee jumped into the pod, followed shortly by Frreral.
Visas began to move into the pod when she gasped.
"Visas?" Jolee called out. "What's the delay, we need to go."
The vision had caught up to her. The reason why she had stayed back was because Dante was on board, looking for her.
"Dante," she whispered.
"What? Visas, we have no time to discuss this; we'll talk to him when we leave to the ship. Come on."
She shook her head and stepped out. "No, Jolee. Dante is aboard right now! I can feel him."
"Wait! Visas!" Jolee screamed, watching her step back and slam down on a console, sealing the pod and launching it.
"I'm sorry," she replied, her voice soft and regretful. "But I have to find him and get him off the ship."
Almost as if to dispute the subject, the ship shuddered roughly.
She sighed. Her vision was coming true, but something didn't feel right.
A scent of smoked meat began to waft into her nostrils and before she could figure out what it was, a sharp, fiery pain ran across her back. She cried out, as the glint of metal drove out of her stomach.
In a blur, it was removed and she was sent falling to the ground, weightlessly.
"Thought you could escape without me, huh?" He growled, kicking her hard in her wound, causing the Miraluka to cry out in pain and pull her back into reality.
The scent of burnt flesh permeated from his body. He was charred, but he was still alive. Erik Scrimshaw kicked her hard again and slashed his blade across her back.
She cried out, her lightsaber had clattered to the ground, away from her. She tried to reach for it with one of her hands.
"Thought you could destroy my victory huh?" He stomped on her hand, taking pleasure in her scream and the cracking of bones in her hand. "If I am going down, you're coming with me."
She rolled over, watching him through the Force almost as if he were the being in which all of the Dark Side flocked to. In that brief moment, he was.
He smiled, laughing, despite the pain, as he removed his small holdout blaster and pointed it to her. "If I go, then you'll just have to follow me." His finger slipped to the hairline trigger, the barrel pointing towards her. "It only seems fitting." He smiled again, just before he was sent off his feet, flying away and crashing far from Visas.
"Dante," she managed, her voice weak, as blood pooled around her.
"No," he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. "Visas…" He looked back up to the rising figure of Scrimshaw, the lightsaber still ignited.
"You'll pay for that, wench," Erik muttered, the pain racing all over him with each movement he made. He stopped midway, looking at the Jedi before him with his crimson blade. "Ah, it seems one of my allies made it after all." He leaned on one of the walls, glancing at Dante. "Finish her."
A crimson glow bathed all over the room. The shadows covered Dante's eyes, and his hair covered much of his face. He knelt down to Visas, caressing her cheek softly. "Visas," he whispered. Rage was beginning to take him. Sorrow was building within his heart as he relived another painful moment of watching someone he cared about die before his very eyes. Not again! I won't let it happen again!
She only groaned, her body in so much pain, while she continued to lose blood.
He rose, looking at the battered form of the General. Rage was taking him. He walked towards him, snarling as he brought his hands up, the lightsaber slicing off one of the General's arms.
Before he knew it, his arm had gone flying off, followed by immense pain. Erik howled, falling to his knees as the Jedi before him deactivated and cast the blade away.
"Never again!" He cried out, picking the General up and slamming his fist across Erik's right jaw, sending him sprawling back.
He cried out in pain, and stumbled to get up.
Dante walked towards him kicking him in the stomach and driving his fist into the back of the Erik's skull, dazing the General.
Dante no longer cared about the Light Side or Dark Side.
All he cared about was feeling Erik's death come from his bare hands.
He cried out in more pain, feeling his hot tears falling across his cheek. The Jedi was beating him mercilessly, and without the aid of the Force. The pain was too much for him.
The Jedi no longer cared about anything else. He wanted to make his foe feel pain. He wanted to make Erik feel the very suffering he had caused to the Jedi Knight. Dante wanted to give the General every bit of pain he had welled up inside of him.
Dante picked Erik up by the throat, "you will pay!" He grabbed the General's remaining arm and broke his fingers, eliciting more howling and shrieking from the General.
"Dante," she whispered, while she heard him yelling at the General while he hit him. Oh Dante, she couldn't help but think. Don't do it, Dante. Please, don't.
He continued to beat the General, twisting his arm and breaking it. Dante was death incarnate.
He was pain, he was suffering, he was everything that he was trained never to be.
Erik screamed out in more pain, falling to the ground.
Dante kicked him and sent him towards the far corner of the wall. His voice was cold, measured by the amount of raw hatred he had building up with each and every blow he delivered to the General. "Stay right there, I'm coming back with a gift."
He turned to walk away, to pick up the holdout blaster, but he stopped when he saw Visas, still laying there with her blood around her and pulling him back into the reality of things. "Visas," he managed, ignoring the tears that coursed down his cheek. He knelt towards her, "please, Visas, don't die."
She gasped, coughing, the blood forming at the corner of her lips. "Dante, don't do it. Don't….don't…give…don't give…in."
He held her close to him, her head resting on his thigh as he knelt there, his forehead to hers. "You'll be safe—you'll be all right. I'm sorry, Visas. Don't do this. Don't leave me. I can't let you die."
"You won't," she whispered. "Don't fall…stay strong."
"I can't, you have to live," he pleaded. "Stay with me, don't—everything will be—please, don't go." He held her close, his tears falling on her.
She felt the warmth of his body, his breath and his tears as he continued to hold her close to him.
"I can save you—I know I can," he whispered fiercely. He touched her wound and willed her to heal, touching her body through the Force and feeling her spirit, fading as quickly as it was, touch his.
"Save…your…strength," she whispered, her skin going horribly pale.
"Visas, don't go. I can save you! I know I can!" He continued to touch through the Force, willing her to live, feeling her cells slowly regenerate. He was growing tired, the damage to his body from earlier fights was taking its toll, as well as the exertion in aiding her. He continued through the Force to will her cells to regenerate and heal her wound, feeling them slowly, but surely fixing her body.
"Dante," she whispered. "I'm…it's…too…late."
He shook his head, shushing her, "it will be all right. Stay with me, Visas." He could feel her life ebbing away, despite his best efforts. "Don't go, not yet. You're going to live," he repeated firmly. His vision began to grow blurry, whether from exertion or the tears, he could not be sure.
Her cells slowly began to regenerate, closing the wounds in her midsection.
Dante continued to give her his own life force, feeling his body growing weaker, as hers was slowly growing stronger. "Stay with me, Visas," he muttered, holding her tightly to him as his hand continued to touch her wound until the flesh had repaired itself.
He could feel her through the Force again, much stronger.
And then it came.
Weariness and pain wracking all over his body.
He gasped and tumbled to the ground, beside her, as her cooled blood embraced him.
The ship continued to shudder, explosions rocking throughout the interior and exterior of the ship.
He felt all of his wounds opened, including most of the ones he had from years ago.
The scars on his chest split open, pouring out his own blood.
He could feel his own life fading away.
Come on, Dante, whispered an urgent voice. Stay strong. Live. Trust in the Force. You need to get up and go, now!
"Master?" He whispered, looking for the man who had been as close to a father he had ever known.
Go, Dante! Take Visas and leave!
The voice continued to echo around him. He turned to face Visas, whose pallor was returning to normal. He tried to move, but felt his body in immense pain, from all of the wounds that had reopened. His world blurred for a moment, the blood loss becoming a reality for him.
Run, Dante!
The ship shuddering brought him back into reality.
His eyes shot wide, and he turned to face Scrimshaw, who sat there, dazed in shock.
Dante rolled over, seeing Visas, still weak, but breathing normally. Gathering whatever strength he could, he rose, resting on the same metallic blade that had been used on her for support. Grabbing one of her arms, he pulled her as close to him as possible and began to drag himself towards an open hatch.
Gasping from the increase in weight and the sudden strain on all of his muscles, the Jedi continued to drag Visas towards the pod, placing her safely within. He fell back onto the floor, outside of the pod, as the ship continued to shudder.
His world began to blur and spin around him.
Using whatever strength he could, he rose on all fours, picking up Visas' lightsaber in the process. Tossing it into the pod, he held himself up to glance at the fallen traitor.
There was no hope for Erik Scrimshaw, who sat there, lost in his own mind.
The ship began to shudder and a loud cracking sound was heard throughout the ship.
Dante collapsed, his consciousness fading. He slowly began to crawl into the pod, sinking his feet away from the hatch and slammed on a key, sealing it from the ship.
Jolee watched as the Republic fleet pummeled the Krayt to pieces, exploding.
"Was she…?" Frreral asked, watching the fleet surround the explosion.
He shook his head. "I don't know."
They both lowered their heads in honour of Visas and Dante. They could feel that the loss of them both would be profound. They had made it so far, only to be lost in the final moments.
"They were good people," Jolee whispered.
Before Frreral could mutter anything else, the pod shuddered.
Jolee fell back, screaming out obscenities. "What the--?"
"We're caught in a tractor beam!" They both looked up at the hatch as they were pulled towards a Republic ship.
After a few moments, the pod shuddered again, as a rattling sounded around the pod. They had been pulled aboard the ship.
The pod began to open and the pair of Jedi came out, only to be greeted by a number of Republic soldiers with their blasters trained on the ship.
Jolee cocked a brow, "is this some way to greet your allies?"
"Stand down!" Someone yelled. "They're with us!" They came running out, revealing Carth and Atton, with Bastila and Dustil in pursuit.
Carth nodded to Jolee, smiling with relief. "Good to see you again."
Atton looked around, his brow furrowed. "Where's Visas?"
Jolee and Frreral looked at each other and lowered their heads in shame.
"Visas and Dante were still on board that ship," he murmured to Carth.
They took an involuntary step back.
"Visas and Dante were aboard?" Carth ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at an officer. "Find out if there were any escape pods that were jettisoned at the last moment! Go now!"
The officer nodded and raced out of the chambers to follow the orders of his Admiral.
Atton was quiet, his mind reeling with the death of both of his friends, while Bastila brought a hand to her mouth.
They were all silent, sitting there as they mulled over the thoughts of the two Jedi that were their friends.
In all that time, no one had bothered to notice a small pod streak into the planet.
Author's Notes: Yep, this was the final chapter in that brutal and drawn out Battle of Coruscant. I've got a handful of chapters left for Catharsis now, so please, bare with me. I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed and I hope you've all enjoyed this thoroughly. Next up: what happens along the horizon? Uncertain fates for Dante, Visas and the Republic... and then there's the Sith...
