Star Wars: The Dark Empire
Episode 2 - Jenesis
Part 7 - Revealing Truths
Coruscant, Chancellors Chambers
The lock clicked, once, twice, thrice; and the door unlocked. Mical stood up, pocketing his lock picking tools. The lock had been incredibly complex, he never would have been able to get through it had he been without the Force, to figure out how to open it without tripping any of the multiple alarms inside. He stepped inside the room, activating his stealth generator whilst using the Force to dim the soft sounds his footsteps made.
His precautions were very necessary, there was a camera watching from the one corner. It was moving slowly, taking in the whole room every five seconds. Mical had timed his entry so that he wouldn't be caught on tape, yet another advantage of using the Force, he had been able to sense its movement even through the closed door. There was nobody inside the room, and Mical went to work immediately.
He started by disabling the security camera, not so it went off -that would be immediately noticeable- but rather that it played false footage of the room, empty and untouched. Then he searched the room, looking for any clues as to a Sith presence. That was the reason why he was here, Mical strongly suspected a Sith influence in the chancellors box. While Astin Lamar was the one Mical suspected the most, there still was a good chance that it was actually the chancellor or his aide. It was even possible that more than one of them were Sith, all three even could be working together to bring the Republic down. In that situation though, the chancellor's aide would almost certainly be a lackey.
Mical scanned through the records and notes, hoping to find incriminating evidence, or better yet a list of Sith contacts. He was sure that there was still a faction of Sith holding on in the Republic, and his gut told him that this -or these- Sith was their leader. The only sure way kill a serpent was to cut off its head.
After half an hour of searching through the paperwork, Mical had found nothing, except some interesting insights into the chancellor's character. Who would have thought that he found the Byss delegate attractive and his feelings were reciprocated. But even if there were hidden messages there, they were protected by powerful codes, which would take forever to crack. And there was no way to use the Force to detect codes. As a last resort, he searched out the chancellor's desk.
There was the usual clutter: pens, headache medicine, tissues and other assorted items. One thing though caught Mical's eye. It was a jewel, around the size of a lightsaber crystal, but Mical had never seen anything like it before. It was as round as a globe, and seemed to be made up of needle-like splinters of every colour of the rainbow, and had a centre that was cloudy and dark. It wasn't by any means pretty, but it was fascinating. When Mical picked it up and examined it in the light, a jolt of energy ran through his arm, and he gasped. It WAS a lightsaber crystal, and a powerful one. But why on earth would the chancellor need to keep that, even if he was a Sith it seemed unlikely for him to store a crystal in his office.
The presence of the crystal was by no means proof, it could easily be explained away as a mere object of interest. But it raised Mical's suspicions about the chancellor being a Sith. He would have loved to have taken it away to study its properties, but its absence would certainly be noticed. Seeing nothing else of interest he set up the room the way he had found it, hid four bugs in various places, and moved back to the camera. He opened it up, and placed and attached a small device that would allow him to record everything the camera saw.
He would have a lot of explaining to do if this were ever found out, but he had to discover the truth about who really was the Sith in the Chancellor's box.
--
Telos, Polar reaches
Kaah Ohtok slashed and killed, his deep blue double-bladed lightsaber singing a song of death. He did not like killing, he abhorred it. But at the same time there was nothing more exhilarating than to be locked in a life and death struggle. Every breath seemed sweeter, knowing that it could be your last; the cold air crisper, the light almost painfully bright.
His old master, Lonna Vash, had told him once that men seemed to tire of sex, drugs, physical sports and loud music sooner than battle. He hadn't believed her at the time, but he had never been in battle then.
The purple twi'lek had been woefully unprepared for his first battle. While he had made short work of the Imperial guards that he fought, as soon as he had faced a Sith he'd been out of his league. The woman had matched him for strength, and had easily eclipsed his speed and skill. He'd been fighting desperately to save his life, and she'd managed to strike off his right lekku. Kaah had known pain then unlike any he'd ever known, and would have been killed an instant after had it no been for Ramon's timely intervention. The ex-Sith had gone on to kill the Sith woman, outclassing her by almost the same token as she had outclassed Kaah.
Now he was ready, ready enough that he was the only Jedi who hadn't once been a Sith allowed in the battle, to potentially face the phantoms. After his return and recovery, Kaah had spent nearly every day training with Ramon, or practising techniques the other had taught him. Ramon was the best swordsman Kaah had ever seen, the other though insisted that Marka and at least thirty Sith in the Empire were better than him. Kaah was now a far better fighter than he had ever been, good enough that if he had to face the Sith woman again he was sure he would win. He had even begun learning the complex Yoshi Ma form, although he still had a long way to go before he would be considered fully competent with it.
The fighting had intensified as the mist thickened, it seemed though that the Republic was winning. It hardly mattered whether they won this battle, they were just drawing out the enemies army so they wouldn't interfere with the rescue operation. Of course, if this battle was the start of a campaign it would greatly help the Republics cause to destroy this army now, rather than having to face it again later.
Kaah spun his blade in deadly arcs, deflecting incoming lasers and cutting into enemy soldiers that came too close. The double-blade gave him no advantage whatsoever against lasers, but as soon as he faced a blade-wielding opponent the difference was incredible. In Kaah's eyes, only fools thought that the single blade was superior to the double. A simple test of pitting a man with a quarterstaff against another with a stave half that length would always have the same result, unless the stave wielder was an accomplished swordsman facing a rookie. There were those who felt that it was potentially dangerous to the wielder, since there was a risk of cutting oneself in half, but with proper training that would never happen. The only weaknesses the double-bladed lightsaber truly had was a larger handle area for the opponent to aim, and its difficulty stabbing. Both of these could be negated by proper footwork and body movement, and control over the blades activation respectively. Kaah doubted that there was any single-bladed wielder that had ever lived who could beat him in a sword-duel, unless of course they could overpower him with the Force.
Kaah had the opportunity to put his skill to use moments later, when a man spotted him through the gloom, and ran at him with two handed sword. Its single edge was slightly curved at the end, razor-sharp. Kaah could only sense his approach by feeling the air movement, the way Ramon had taught him. He had no discernable presence, with exception to the air he displaced. If Kaah shut his eyes he wouldn't even know he was there. This man was undoubtedly Force-dead.
As he reached Kaah, he swung his long blade from the hip with blinding speed. Kaah, who had seen it coming ages before, blocked firmly and shifted his weight; sending a recoil blow at the Phantom. With his double blades, he could block with one side and attack with the other, using his opponents own strength and speed against them. He had to be careful though, he had no premonition sense against this man, so he had to rely on his eyes and sense of the air currents. Although he had the advantage, there was always the element of chance. He would make no mistakes, and finish it fast.
The assassin blocked, and had to dodge Kaah's other blade as it swept in. He stepped backwards, then darted forward, slashing down at Kaah's head. Not fancying the idea of losing another lekku, Kaah went to his knees as he bore the force of the blow. Then, using the Force to fortify his strength, slashed out hard with his other blade. The phantom blocked it, and was driven backwards by its force. He managed to keep his feet though, and glared balefully at him.
Kaah went onto the offensive, spinning his blades around his body so fast that the eye could not keep up; the way Ramon had taught him. With the Force, it was difficult to keep track of an opponents blades when they were doing that. Without the Force it was impossible; meaning that the assassin had no defense against the technique. He tried vainly to attack back with stabs and short cuts, but Kaah checked his attempts with ease. There was no way the other could counter his relentless assault, and although his contortis-woven armour stopped a few of Kaah's blows, it could not take the heat when he turned his lightsaber up to maximum power. He fell with a look of relief on his face, surprising Kaah, who had only ever seen shocked expressions on the dying before.
The battle meanwhile had degenerated into a bloody melee. The lines were no longer drawn, men from both sides were running at each other from all angles, ranged weapons were being shot at almost point-blank range. The fog was now so thick that it was the only way to fight. Kaah was tempted to order his troops to withdraw and then fight in a more visible area. But both forces were fully engaged, and to extract his now would be impossible.
Kaah felt a hint of fear from a Jedi nearby, and ran to help. The five Jedi were maintaining a weak form of Force-bonding between them. It had been prepared in haste, and would likely fade within the next few days. But it gave them the advantage of being able to sense where the others were, they were also able send 'dire peril' pulses to each other over a short range, and could even have a small sense of each others strongest emotions when they were close enough. Kaah wondered why, if he was fearful of what he was facing, why the other Jedi did not send a pulse to alert all the others.
He ran through the fog, it was so thick it was almost solid. Fortunately with his Force-senses he could detect all those in his immediate vicinity with ease, and as he ran he cut down five enemy soldiers and a Mech walker. He came into a small dip, a clearing of fog, he saw no-one around except the ex-Sith Jedi fighting a… suit of armour? Kaah could sense that the person inside was Force-dead, but that was possibly the least unusual thing about him.
The Phantom was in full plate armour, head to toe. The plates were like burnished gold, shining even in the dim light, but the armour was anything but pretty. It consisted of hundreds of interlocking plates, all arranged to facilitate movement, and adorned at the joints with sharp spines. The largest piece was the one that covered his chest, even the armour covering his abdomen consisted of many plates, resembling an eight-muscle pack. His helmet was full faced, and strongly resembled a rancor. No, not a rancor, a terantatek. The spikes on his armour served to enhance the effect. He looked like a diabolical version of the knights who had been lords on Coruscant in its antiquity.
When Kaah compared him to the Jedi he was fighting, he realised how tall he was. The assassin stood over a head taller than his opponent, who wasn't short, and was far more solid; probably weighing more than twice as much. He looked more like a warrior than an assassin. His weapon was the final shock. It was a massive hammer, with a handle almost the length of a spear. It looked heavy and cumbersome. One side of the hammer came in to a point, like half of a square eight-sided crystal. Both ends were spiked. Kaah didn't even know that such weapons could be used in combat.
They could, apparently. And incredibly effectively as well. The Jedi fighting the armoured man had two lightsabers, and was desperately trying to get close enough to use them, while the other was driving him off with great swipes. Judging by the power of those swings, the massive hammer had enough weight that its momentum was impossible to stop with a lightsaber, which was basically a weightless weapon. Conversely, the hammer was also obviously a poor blocker, being too hefty to manoeuvre quickly. Kaah ran in to help the other Jedi.
His presence seemed to distract the phantom enough that the other Jedi was able to close the distance between him and the Phantom, and struck at him. His blows scoured his enemy's armour, but did not penetrate. The Phantom sent him bowling over with the handle of his weapon, and raised it high to finish him off. Thinking quickly, Kaah blasted the fallen Jedi with Force, sending him flying back; just in time. The hammer sunk into wet snow and hard earth, the phantom snarled with anger, and turned on Kaah.
Kaah realised immediately that in this situation, where he couldn't possibly block his opponents weapon, his double blades would be nothing more than a hindrance. So he switched one off. Then he activated his extra-length function, causing his meter long blade to shoot out nearly half a meter more. After that, he rerouted all the extra length that could have been given to his other blade to the one that was active, giving it a further half meter. They were both advances that had come from the Sith empire, and while in many situations they weren't useful, they were well worth the hassle of installing. Now he had a weapon with the range of the phantoms, a single deep-blue blade of nearly two meters.
The Phantom gave a battle roar, and swung low. Kaah turned his lightsaber up to maximum power, another advance taken from the Sith empire, and slashed at him; jumping nimbly over the wild swipe. His strike bit into his opponents abdominal plate, but didn't penetrate. Definitely contortis-woven, and thick too, probably the hammer was as well. The phantom attacked again, giving shorter; faster swings. Kaah dodged, ducked and struck his legs. The phantom's grunt of pain told Kaah that this time he had done at least some damage.
"Yer strong, Jedi," the phantom spat, backing off slightly, "Yer not da one I'm afta, but if I bring yer head, I'll be getting some-a reward."
"Do your worst," Kaah said, his eyes focused.
"Who may I have da pleasure of killing?"
"Kaah Ohtok, Jedi Master and high council member." As soon as he told his name, he wondered if telling the phantom had been the most prudent decision.
"Council memba eh? Definitely get somming. When ya get to da gates-a hell, tell 'em Gamma sent ya."
With that, the phantom charged again, aiming death blows. Kaah sprang over his head, slashing a long cut on his shoulder, again not penetrating. Although he could not predict his opponents moves through the Force, the way the hammer had to be hefted back before it was swung meant that Kaah could accurately predict its trajectory anyway. His Force-enhanced speed was his shield, he moved in Ataru form; which for this situation was ideal. The danger was that he needed time to do sufficient damage to his opponent, in that time another phantom could finish him off, or Gamma could get a lucky shot in and it would all be over.
Then Kaah saw a figure loom behind Gamma, who was advancing menacingly on him. It was the Jedi who he had saved. In an instant he had lunged and hugged himself to the colossal phantom with one arm, and with the other stabbed a lightsaber into his back.
"NOOOOO!" Kaah shouted as Gamma shifted his grip and stabbed the spiked back of his weapon through the Jedi. The other hung on grimly, even as Gamma stabbed him through a second time, blood gushing from the gaping wounds.
Kaah rushed in, slashing and stabbing vengefully. The Phantom's armour again absorbed the strikes, he withdrew his weapon and swung it at Kaah. This time he very nearly hit him, Kaah jumped back but the spike on the end of the hammer left a long shallow scratch on his body-plate. Then the Phantom screamed, and fell to his knees, dropping his weapon. Kaah stared from him to the Jedi still hugging his back, realising that the others lightsaber must have finally burned through the thick contortis-woven plate. Gamma swayed slowly, then pitched forward into the snow with soft flump.
Kaah rushed over to the Jedi's side. One look at the wounds and the amount of blood already in the snow, and he knew there was no hope. "Why?" he said, "You didn't have to do that, I could have taken him."
The Jedi coughed weakly, blood running out both sides of his mouth. "One hit, and you'd have lost… his armour… too thick… LOOK OUT!"
Kaah turned just in time to see yet another phantom fire his rifle at point-blank range. The shot ripped though Kaah's armour, body and continued out his back. Kaah stared blankly at fist-sized hole in his mid-abdomen, and slowly sank onto the cold, wet snow. The other Jedi raised himself up, and hurled one of his lightsabers into the luckless phantom, who screamed as it speared his chest and fell twitching to the ground.
Kaah immediately tried to heal himself, but the wound was far too large. All he managed to do was slow the bleeding. He was going to die, the knowledge gave him no fear, just an intense sadness. He had wanted so badly to live, to grow old with his wife, to watch his son grow tall. It was small consolation that his killer had been killed.
"It looks like… we're going together," he said, attempting a smile for the Jedi who was lying next to him.
But the other man was already dead.
--
Telos, Polar Reaches, Jedi Academy
(upper levels)
Marka had been in some intense combat situations before, but he had never been in one that had so many dying in such a confined space. The commandoes were pushing forward through the narrow passages, the defenders putting up stubborn resistance. Every second step seemed to take him over the dead or wounded, at many places they were piled over each other.
The commandoes had suffered grievous losses, Marka knew that they had already pulled out two hundred wounded, the dead they had left so there was no telling how many there were. They wouldn't have even been able to break through the many defensive checkpoints though if it hadn't been for Marka, his double-bladed lightsaber was large enough to cover the entire passage, and at such close range the laser shots returned by him often hit the shooter.
With the phantoms forced to come at him in a confined space, he'd had a huge advantage. By using his senses to detect all air-displacement while feeling for the enemies Force-presence he could tell if one was coming long before they could get a shot in, simply because displacement without a Force-presence could only be a phantom. Already two of them had paid the price, and neither had come close to killing him. The first Marka had waited for, then ambushed as he had turned a corner. The second had taken a shot at him, but Marka had worked out the exact trajectory of the weapon long before she'd been about to shoot, and sent it right back through her head.
Now they were beginning to come to the larger training rooms deeper in the academy. The enemy tried to put up resistance in some of them, but in a larger areas they suffered far more against the better-trained commandoes. Marka though made sure he didn't come into the cavernous rooms until they had been cleared, there was too much space for the phantoms to come at him from there. He was sure that most of the phantoms were still in the Academy, and were waiting for the opportunity to strike or, if things went wrong, escape. Marka doubted he would be able to stop them all, they were too good at hiding, but every phantom killed now was one less that had to be hunted down later. He estimated that the defenders had already lost in excess of four hundred in the confined passages, Korgul would have to make a move soon or all would be lost for them.
--
(lower levels)
Orrin gripped onto his blaster, sweat trickling slowly down his brow despite the cold. More experienced Jedi were clenching their lightsabers, and rhythmically stretching. After two days of putting up with the constant drilling noises, and retreating further and further into the deepest tunnels, the silence with them stopped was oppressive.
"The attack has begun, it's confirmed, they've come to rescue us." The excited whisper was rushing through the crowd.
Orrin wet his lips, he knew what was coming now, they would be attacking back. The strategy was sound, trapping the enemy between the two forces, multiplying their chances of victory. That did not change the fact though that he would be going into combat again, he could die. He'd always thought when he read the heroic saga's in his youth that if he were in a similar situation he would be sublimely brave, like the great heroes. Yet here he was; struggling not to wet himself.
Master Brianna though was ice, so totally focused and determined. Her presence seemed to stiffen the resolve of those around her, even Orrin. He was trying not to let his fear show, he hoped he was being convincing.
"We're ready, Master," one of the surviving guards said as he approached them.
"Good," replied Brianna, "Then let the sequence commence."
Slowly, the massive Durasteel doors began to open. As the one in front of Orrin opened, he saw along the passage dozens of them opening, and in between various traps were disarming. It was those traps and doors that had made progress so hard and painfully slow for the enemy that they had opted rather to dig around them. They had very nearly made it too, there been less then forty meters of rock separating them. Another few hours and they'd have been through.
The ragtag force began to move forward at a steady pace through the wide passage, which went up at a 25 degree angle. The experienced Jedi were in the front with their lightsabers, Orrin was just behind with the guards and students that had picked up laser rifles and pistols. Following them was a large group of brave apprentices who had volunteered to come so they could pick up weapons from the fallen and join the battle. Orrin's friend Gerald was in that group.
The passages incline ahead was raised further, and it seemed to be curving to the left. As they walked quickly up it Orrin realised that it was a spiral, slowly taking them up.
"Orrin, if you like I could take the weapon, and you could hang back," Gerald whispered to him.
He was tempted, Force how he was tempted. But it would not be fair to take advantage of his friends generosity, and besides, he was the superior gunslinger.
"Thanks, but no thanks," he whispered back.
Some of the guards were talking next to him, Orrin couldn't help but pick up part of their conversation; "…good thing that Master Mical had that override system fitted in the lowest levels."
"Uh-huh," another nodded, "Without that, they'd have had control of everything, not just the stuff they spiked. Security doors, traps, droids; they'd have had it all."
Orrin shivered at the thought, imagining what would have happened had the attackers turned their own defences against them.
Seconds later, they ran into a group of enemies, and everything seemed to happen at once. Shots were flying between the groups, the Jedi were charging them down; deflecting shots coming at them. Master Brianna was particularly devastating, leaping immediately into their midst's and swinging her white double-bladed lightsaber with deadly efficiency, killing and defending all at once. Orrin dropped to his knees as he got a clear shot, his first shot was deflected by his targets personal shielding but his second and third hit in the chest. The luckless rodian dropped to his knees, screaming for his mother.
A whirling, hissing sound alerted him; and he ducked just in time as a spinning metal blade shot through the air where his neck had been. He looked around frantically, wondering who in the galaxy would use such a strange projectile weapon. It seemed effective though, there was already a Jedi moaning on the floor with one of the blades lodged in her side and another lying dead with one in his forehead. As Orrin watched, more blades shot towards them, bouncing off the walls until they were buried themselves into the flesh of the living. They probably wouldn't be effective against armour, but in their group only the surviving guards had any.
Whoever was shooting these things, they were doing a lot of damage to them, and since the trained Jedi weren't dodging them like they should, Orrin suspected it was a Force-dead phantom. He had to be dealt with, or more would die. Orrin knew enough about current events to know that while the Jedi order had no shortage of initiates and padawans, they were desperately short of experienced Jedi to train them. Every one they lost was one more than they could afford to lose. He was expendable, they were not.
With that knowledge in mind, Orrin shelved his fear, and charged forward; keeping his body low and firing as he ran. A tall trandosian aiming his rifle at him, Orrin somehow sensed it and rolled forward. The shots missed, and he carried on running. The enemy was a dispersed mass of sentients, but Orrin quickly picked out the phantom. It wasn't his uniform, he had been dressed to resemble the others in the ragtag bunch, but there was something different about him; something Orrin could not put a name to. The projectile-launcher on his arm served to confirm it. Orrin screamed his rage; hate and fear, and charged.
He aimed at the assassin, and fired twice. His shots hit his shoulder, but did not penetrate the armour. The phantom sent a spinning blade back at Orrin reflexively. By chance it hit his blaster, cutting halfway into the firing chamber and disabling it. Orrin cursed as he discarded it, and dived towards a dead mercenary, determined to take his weapon.
Incredibly, mercenary's rifle was code-locked, there was no way Orrin could use it. The only other weapon he had was a Vibrosword. The phantom aimed his arm-mounted blade launcher at him again. Terrified, Orrin pulled sword out of the dead mercenaries scabbard, and moved it in front of his body in a desperate defence. By sheer dumb luck the blade hit the sword, the shock nearly knocked it out of his hands, and rebounded away.
By this point the enemy force had had enough of being cut to pieces by vengeful Jedi, with exception to the phantom none of them had been able to bring a trained one down. They were running to safety of higher up, despite their officers' urgings. The phantom growled with anger, and joined the teeming throng rushing away. In a few seconds he would be gone, free to kill more Jedi. Orrin could not let that happen.
With no other weapon at hand, he threw his sword, willing it with all his soul to hit. Orrin had never before wanted something to happen so badly, never had his mind been so clearly focused. The sword flew like an arrow, streaking forward far faster than any object propelled by human strength should be able to, burying itself up to the hilt in the phantom's back; spearing his heart. He fell forward, propelled by the blades momentum, and lay still as he was trampled by his frantic allies. None even stopped to check if he was dead.
The surviving enemies were soon out of sight, the Jedi and apprentices had not given chase for fear of an ambush. Orrin ran up to the dead phantom, and tried to pull out the sword out. It was wedged in so solidly that he could not budge it an inch, gripped by backplate and cuirass as well as the flesh and bone in-between. Orrin could hardly believe that he had thrown his blade so hard, and was doubly amazed that it hadn't spun. By the laws of basic physics, neither should have been possible.
Master Brianna came up to him, "I saw what you did," she said, "Killing that assassin is an achievement well worthy of recognition. I'll see to it that the council hears of it, they will undoubtedly be impressed by your quick thinking and resourceful use of the Force."
"That was the Force?" Orrin was shocked, he'd barely even felt its presence before.
"You're in the advanced classes, aren't you?" Master Brianna asked.
"I've only been here a week," Orrin replied.
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, it was strange to see on her normally emotionless face.
They were interrupted by a Jedi knight who was asking for instructions of what to do. The Jedi Master excused herself, promising a more in-depth talk after the battle.
As Orrin watched her go, he realised that he was still unarmed, and there were others picking weapons off the dead. The dead phantom had a sniper rifle strapped to his back, Orrin read 'Bystander IV' on the side. He checked it quickly for personalised locks, the rifle had one but it was currently inactive. So he hoisted it around his shoulder, and searched around for more weapons, remembering that Gerald probably still didn't have one. Others had already been looting while he had been talking to Master Brianna, and most of the best ones had already been taken. He still managed to scavenge a pair of blasters.
Finding Gerald afterwards proved more tricky. The group had mixed up in the aftermath of the skirmish, meanwhile the experienced Jedi were trying to sort out the groups again. Orrin couldn't see his friend anywhere, he started asking around, but no-one had seen him.
Then, just as they were getting ready to move off again, he saw him; slumped against a wall with a serrated circular blade lodged deep in his chest just below his neck. Orrin gaped, it couldn't be, it just couldn't. He ran over and started shaking his friends shoulders, as if it could wake him up.
"Come along son," said an older man kindly, taking him by the shoulders and leading him away, "There's nothing you can do for him."
"No," Orrin whimpered uselessly as he allowed himself to be led, tears forming in his eyes. "Why?"
It was the question every man since the beginning of time has asked when a loved one dies. No answer is ever satisfactory.
--
(mid levels)
"Stop," Marka ordered, "Something is wrong."
He had been leading a group commandoes though a wide passageway, and had just come into a cavernous room. The room was deserted, but something about the air currents was amiss - he could feel the hairs raise on the back of his neck. Delving deeper, he closed his eyes and focused all his power on the air, not a moment too soon. He felt the whisper of movement, and dived low as a silver lightsaber blade materialised and chopped the space where he had been.
Marka used his hands to flip forward, and came up in combat position with his white-purple; double-bladed lightsaber drawn and ignited, facing where his attack had come from. But there was nothing. What had just happened? The commandoes were terrified, moving their weapons around frantically. He couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anyone's presence other than those he could see. Even his sense of the air currents was distorted by the air's odd movement in the chamber. Doubtlessly this was why the assailant had chosen this place to come at him.
"Don't shoot until you see your target," he warned, and focused again on the air around him. He felt movement, this time it wasn't directed at him. "LOOK OUT!"
The lightsaber appeared again, in the midst's of the commandoes. It cut and sliced, killing and maiming in spirals of death. Two of the commandoes managed to fire at the invisible man who was wielding it, but the lightsaber moved with perfect Jedi grace, and sent their shots back at them. Then it disappeared again, and the commandoes started panicking. Already nine of them were down, and they couldn't even see who they were fighting. They started shooting wildly around, quickly becoming a danger to everyone around, except their attacker.
"CEASE FIRE," Marka roared, "You'll only hurt each other."
It was true, already three had been wounded in the confusion. To their credit, the commandoes obeyed instantly, and moved closer into a solid block formation; all their weapons ready.
"Whoever is doing this, he's after me and me alone," Marka explained calmly, he hated having to raise his voice and could feel the beginnings of a sore throat already, for some reason that was almost impossible to heal with the Force. "You're just in his way. Carry on with the attack, I'll join you later."
Not wanting to be attacked by the invisible man again, the commandoes complied with haste. In less than a minute, they were out of sight. Marka focused his senses on the movements around him, enhancing his natural senses as well. He could smell the alcohol-based disinfectant that the Empire used to treat their skin-tight suits, the assassin was near. He backed towards the wall slowly.
"I know you're here," he said, moving back carefully towards the fire-control chemicals that were built into the wall. He couldn't sense him through the Force, he was Force-dead. But there was only one Force-dead person who used a lightsaber. "Korgul, show yourself!"
Again he felt a whisper of movement in the air in front of him. Without hesitation Marka sent his blade slashing into the thin metal layer that concealed the chemicals used for fire control, and dived out the way. The pressurised chemicals sprayed out with such force that they hit the far wall. They coated the luckless invisible man, foaming up immediately, making his front half look like it was made of snow; while the other came shimmering into sight.
Wasting no time, Marka attacked, knowing that his assassin would be blind with the foam covering his face. Korgul though still succeed in blocked his first slash, locked blades, and pushed Marka back with incredible strength. He ripped off his mask and pulled down his hood in one swift movement, before Marka could attack again. Marka couldn't help but be taken back by the sudden exposure of his blood red irises.
"That was a highly resourceful move," Korgul congratulated him, "Just the sort I would have expected from you, Marka Cabanic. Did you know that you are now listed as the number one enemy of the Sith Empire? You've practically been promoted to Sith Master position. You truly are your fathers son." He seemed perfectly calm, as though he'd never been in any danger at all.
Marka frowned, the last part of what Korgul had said made little sense. His father Harn had been a very mediocre Sith, and an undercover Greys. Nothing Marka had done was remotely similar, he was far more powerful and didn't even look like him. If he had meant that his father would have been proud of him, he had an odd way of saying it. It was interesting though that his infamy was high in the Empire, probably his defeat of Jadan last year had a lot to do with it.
"How did you stop my attack?" Marka asked, "You are Force-dead, there should have been no way. Also with the lasers, only Jedi and Sith can block laser shots."
Marka generally never talked during single combat, it was distracting and pointless. This time though it was different, he needed to find out about his opponents capabilities if he was to stand any chance.
"Luck," replied Korgul, giving nothing away.
Marka did not really need an answer, he could work it out himself. Korgul bore a lightsaber, as opposed to all other phantom's who had contortis-woven weapons. Lightsabers' greatest strength was that they could deflect laser bolts, but that was useless unless the user was capable of sensing the shots before they happened. Korgul had already proven that he could, his ability to block Marka's attack when he should have been blind only confirmed this. There was only one possible conclusion; despite the fact that being Force-dead would make it impossible for him to have any Force-ability, Korgul had some form of a premonition sense. Or something incredibly similar.
Marka clenched his jaw with suppressed horror. It was one thing to face a Sith who could predict your moves, he could do the same right back, so there was no advantage there either way. But he could not sense a Force-deads moves before they happened, the fact that they were cut off from the Force made it impossible. So he couldn't sense Korgul's moves, but the other man to some extent would be able to sense his. It was an incredible advantage, one that would make combat between them like one between a swordsman and a Sith, with Marka being the swordsman. There could be no doubt who would win.
"I see by your expression you've worked it out yourself," said Korgul with an annoyingly superior expression on his face, "I'm taking you in, Marka, we can do this the easy or the hard way. But you do know you have no chance against me."
Even if he didn't, Marka was not one to back down without a fight. He had never lost in single combat, and only one person had ever survived his wrath. He was sure that his double-bladed lightsaber would confer him some advantage, although he did notice that Korgul had a sword hilt sticking out behind his head, the blade hidden inside his uniform. He also knew that some of Korguls victims, generally the more powerful ones, had died of sword cuts as well as lightsaber burns. The prospect of facing two weapons without his premonition sense was terrifying. If Korgul did not hold all the advantages now, he certainly would when he brought the second blade into the fight.
One thing did not make sense to Marka, why did Korgul have a sword instead of second lightsaber? Lightsabers were lighter, more portable, could deflect lasers and cut through almost anything. So why did Korgul go for second best? It was out of character, for Korgul, for anyone who came from the Sith Empire.
Despite everything, Marka knew for sure that Korgul had to die for the Republic to survive. Only Never was his equal in ability, none were greater. Hopefully he would come soon, Marka would need his help if he was to stand any chance. He took a deep breath, and charged.
--
(outside)
Never pulled himself up, hooking his leg over and rolling onto the snow. Finally, he had made it up. Slowly he stood up, taking in his surroundings, the landing craft parked there, the commandoes stationed as guards there running to check him out. Never quickly adjusting his hood so that it covered his cheeks, hopefully he would be mistaken for Marka. No matter the confusion it caused, he would be able to talk his way through them, they would not want to risk Marka's displeasure.
"Hey, could I have some help here," came Hugas' pitiful cry from thirty meters below. Never smiled, and started to pull him up.
--
Telos orbit
The battle was a shambles, Lorn doubted that Bastila's Battle Meditation had even been necessary. The Republic fleet, with its larger ships and superior firepower, had shredded the incoming fighters and bombers as they swooped in initially; they had done little damage. Then the ship-on-ship fighting had begun, and the Republic had outgunned the smaller pirate vessels. The few capital ships they had had been destroyed by the multi-laser cannons mounted on the two 'Archon' class ships in the fleet, the Indaba and the Behemoth .
Finally, to finish them off, Lorn had released his extensive force of fighters, bombers and fighter-bombers. With the enemy fleet already fully engaged, they had been torn apart by this new wave. The trap had snapped shut, there was no escaping for the pirate fleet. They started trying to flee, the Republic gunners aimed at their engines and left them unable to escape. Out of a fleet of 5 000, less than 800 got away into hyperspace.
On board the 'Indaba', a man from the main sensor-control array reported, "Admiral, we have another hostile fleet coming out of hyperspace on the outskirts of the system."
"How many?" Lorn asked immediately. They had about five hundred ships destroyed or out of action as a result of the recent battle, and many more with minor damage that would limit their efficiency. There would be no time for any repairs with this fleet bearing down on them.
"Around four thousand sir. Mostly smaller ships."
It was the same as the last fleet, only less of them. Lorn smiled, even with their losses they would still be able to take them on. It would be another duck shoot.
"Sir, the ground forces report that the battle is not going so well." reported the communications officer, "They're holding out, for now. But its only a matter of time. And the Jedi in charge is badly wounded, likely to die."
"Who, Marka?" His chest constricted in sudden fear.
"No sir, apparently he joined the commandoes in assaulting the academy. The Jedi left in charge of the army was Kaah Ohtok."
Lorn wondered briefly how Marka had managed to join the commandoes in their assault, but put it out of his mind. The man seemed achieve the impossible as a matter of course. He knew that the loss of Kaah would be a blow to the Jedi, but there was little he could do except organise a shuttle to pick up the wounded. But even that wouldn't be safe with another space battle looming.
"Any word from the commandoes?" he asked.
"No sir, nothing."
Lorn sighed. Somewhere inside that academy was Korgul Juglur, who had been sent specifically to end Marka and the re-formed Jedi order. There was no doubt in Lorn's mind that the two of them would clash there, and if they did, it could well be the end of the Republic's hopes. Marka was one of the few Jedi capable of facing the most powerful of the Sith, and the only one capable of facing a Sith Master. Their chances seemed incredibly slim at best, but without men like him on their side they may as well give up before the war even started.
There was one thing he could do - he could ask Bastila to re-route her Battle Meditation to the Academy, and the battle going on outside it. It wouldn't help Marka, but it would help his allies. If the rest of the enemy force inside there was defeated, Korgul would have to retreat, or die. No-one could face limitless opponents, no matter their abilities. It would mean that the fleet would be more vulnerable, but Lorn was confident that he could win even without it.
With that decided, Lorn moved to the back room to give Bastila her new instructions.
--