Chapter Seven: Invasions
The time had come. A peace conference was underway on Alderaan, the Empire calling on the Republic to discuss an end to the war. It was to be a ruse, the negotiations led by Darth Baras serving only to lull the Republic into a false sense of security. Peace was the last thing on any Sith's mind that day.
The citizens of Coruscant went about their daily lives without a second thought, unaware of the calamity that was to befall them. Whilst the bulk of the Imperial invasion force waited past the system's threshold, a strike team led by Darth Malgus had made their move. The Jedi were spread out amongst the galaxy, leaving minimal resistance as the Sith struck the Coruscanti Temple. A fraction of the destruction that was to come, the strike team succeeded in taking their objective, blazing a path of victory that resulting in the disruption of the planet's defense grid.
Under the command of Darth Angral, a fleet of Imperial dreadnoughts and warships entered the space surrounding the ecumenopolis. The ships were hailed by one of the Republic capital's Orbital Security Stations, which received a response in the form of the ships' main batteries blasting the station into space debris. The fleet began its descent through the planet's atmosphere, priming itself for the ensuing bombardment. The lower laser cannons of the dreadnoughts began unleashing their rain of fire and destruction upon the Senate and Temple districts.
Amidst the bombardment, a number of shuttles and transports departed the hangars of the capital ships, making their way to the surface below. Whilst most carried Imperial troopers, cannon-fodder to absorb the brunt of the defenders' retaliations, a small detachment of shuttles broke from the rank of their fellows. Transports capable of holding a dozen beings within their hulls made their way toward specific towers not yet burdened with the torrential downpour of cannon fire.
Imperial fighters patrolled the skies, shooting down the errant airspeeder that had not yet fled from the zone of battle. As the shuttles pressed themselves further and further, they found themselves without the company of other starships, slipping beyond the areas assaulted by warships and bombers. The transports moved through the Coruscant skyline, nimbly maneuvering around the kilometer high towers and buildings thanks to their trained pilots.
As each shuttle neared its target, the transports broke free from one another, until each of them proceeded by their lonesome. The majority of the planet's occupants had already begun their flock to the lower reaches of the cityscape, finding sanctuary from the invading forces in the depths of the ecumenopolis. One of the shuttles touched down on a vacated landing pad attached to a nondescript skyscraper. There was nothing to signify their targets other than the instructions in their heads. As the shuttle's entrance ramp lowered, a number of acolytes stepped out with haste. A young Human male pushed himself to the front of the group. His body encased in the same standard issue armor as his classmates, his hand gripping the same model lightsaber, the Human urged his fellows forward.
"Come on! Let's go!" Ornell shouted as he darted across the landing pad and into the tower's interior, followed by the other acolytes of Lorrik's former classroom. The acolytes disappearing into the urban structure, their shuttle lifted itself from its landing struts and began making its way back to its hangar aboard one of the invading capital ships.
Above Coruscant, amidst the starry void of space, six shuttle dropped into realspace amongst the deafened calamity that surrounding the Republic capital. Imperial ships hounded the Republic's orbital defenders and installations. Laser cannon bolts streaked across the vacuum of space, igniting the various defense and communications satellites in a brief plume of fire that would be quickly snuffed out, leaving only drifting wreckage in its place.
The six shuttles headed toward the planet's surface, dodging the cannon fire and naval forces that stood in their path. Flying around capital ships and dreadnoughts, the mechanical pilots of the vessels expertly circumvented the plethora of scrap and debris the now orbited the planet.
Within one of the shuttles, Jresh sat in the co-pilot's chair, monitoring various systems as Lorrik and Syrosk stood behind him, gazes affixed the scene unfolding beyond the transport's viewports. It was a sight unlike any either figure had seen before. Even the Sith Lord had not witnessed the collective might of the Sith Empire so focused on a single target. As the shuttle drew ever closer to the planet's surface, Syrosk calmed his mind amongst the enveloping chaos, focusing his thoughts and seeking his target.
The transports slipped through the ecumenopolis' atmosphere, descending amongst the smoke and fire that littered the open skies. The Imperial Navy continued its assault on the towers of the Senate and Temple district, fielding countless squads and companies of soldiers and Mandalorians to the ground below. The Republic was mounting its response, troopers and Jedi rising up to meet the invaders, but suffering under the full force of the oppressive fleet. But those beyond the gaze of dreadnoughts and warships would find themselves less inhibited.
The shuttles carrying the apprentices and their allies pressed forward, maneuvering around the crumbling towers of Coruscant. They each had their targets. They each had their assigned group of students to protect. They each had their goal, and the skill and confidence to see it through. But while the apprentices had their specified destinations, their master was forced to choose his. The Sith Lord reached out with his mind, searching for his rival. Sifting through the countless thoughts and presences of soldiers and civilians, Imperial invaders and Republic denizens, he could sense Tash, shining as a beacon amidst the calamity.
"Tash is heading for the eleventh vault," Syrosk stoically declared.
"Alright, take us there," Lorrik quickly shot to the pilot. Jresh continued to monitor the shuttle's console as the droid diverting the shuttle's course toward the new objective. "We'll make a brief landing then continue toward our assigned target."
"No need," Syrosk defiantly stated. "Just open the shuttle's hatch and get me as close as possible."
The pilot turned its metallic head for clarification, receiving a firm nod from its copilot. The shuttle maintained its speed as it neared its destination, opening its hatch and lowering its entrance ramp mid-flight. The Sith Lord calmly stepped from the cockpit and into the cacophonous passenger bay as the wind passed over the vessel's entrance. Gripping the side of the hull, Syrosk watched the cityscape pass beneath him, the fires fading and disappearing as they moved beyond the zone of invasion.
Lorrik called out to his master, telling him they were almost there. Without another word, the Sith Lord leapt from the cruising vessel as it passed over a vacant landing pad, lightsaber ignited, his one and only target resting firmly in his mind.
The transport pulled away as Syrosk landed, armored feet impacting against the metallic surface with a resounding thud. Standing upright, the Sith Lord took a deep breath before darting across the landing pad, venturing into the tower it was connected to.
Jresh shot the droid a quick look, silently urging it to retract the shuttle's entrance ramp. Lorrik eased himself forward, taking a position directly behind his companion. "This is it. Either we succeed or we fail."
"When has there ever been a third option?" Jresh stoically asked, eyes still affixed to the console in front of him.
"I guess you've got a point," Lorrik muttered, still not entirely satisfied with the outlook. "But it's not just our lives at stake. It's those of dozens and dozens of acolytes."
"Don't worry. We'll protect them," Jresh confidently stated.
"Are we ready to face the Jedi?"
"Ready and able."
"Alright, then let's just-"
The shuttle violently shook as an explosion rocked the vessel's outer hull. An errant bolt of energy impacted against the transport's bow, cracking open the shuttle's frame, exposing the right half of the cockpit to the open air of Coruscant. The Pureblood and Human were thrown to the floor as the shuttle's mechanical pilot was turned to scrap. Its front dipping, Lorrik slid across the floor, swept up in the current that passed over cockpit's gaping wound. The remaining bits and pieces of the droid passed through the shattered hull, falling to the surface below alongside various bits and pieces of metal and debris.
Clawing at the edge of the ship, the inquisitor kept himself pressed against the floor as the warrior dragged himself back into his seat. Taking direct control of the shuttle, the Pureblood did as best as he could leveling out the vessel, but the damage was done. The transport couldn't stay airborne, and began its slow, inevitable descent. Tugging at the controls, Jresh brought the shuttle down amidst an outcropping attached to the skyscraper adjacent to the pair's target. The downed shuttle crashed amongst the abandoned ledge, skidding across the metallic surface, coming to a stop only after embedding itself in the tower walls.
Whilst one shuttle had fallen, the others were still on course. The transports carrying the pairs of apprentices and their allies touched down in the nearest landing zones to their targets. The acolytes were already on the ground, about to meet the resistance of the vault guards head on. The reinforcements urged themselves forward, ready to meet whatever challenges awaited them, ready to do all they could to make sure they and the acolytes walked away with their lives in their hands.
Vault One. Within the bland architecture of the Republic capital, the first safehouse stood guarded by a pair of Jedi and a squad of the planet's domestic security force. The forces stood gathered in front of a reinforced door at the end of a vast, empty chamber. The various beige and brown materials that made up the quiet area were infinitely preferable to the charred and engulfed buildings of other districts.
The Jedi were garbed in armored robes, conservative layers of cloth enwrapping hardened plates beneath. The security forces wore light protection, thick trousers and jackets beneath tactical bandoliers featuring holstered blasters.
"We're under attack," one of the Jedi curtly spoke to his fellows. "The Empire is attacking the Temple and Senate, we have to help them!"
"The Empire is attacking the entire planet," the other Jedi countered. "If we leave our posts, we're abandoning the area to the Sith."
"Sirs, can we move the contents of the vault elsewhere?" the leader of the security force asked.
"There's nowhere to move them to," the first Jedi declared.
"Then we must defend this area," the second Jedi replied.
"By standing around? We need to move outside, take the fight to the-"
The Jedi was interrupted by the echoing footsteps emanating from the opposite end of the chamber. From the shadowed halls beyond, a lone figure emerged, hands folded behind his back, casually making his way toward the group. The Human's gait was utterly calm, the heels of his feet kicking up the tail of his vibrant red coat with each step.
The two Jedi drew their sabers, directing their tips toward the lightly-armored stranger as the security force unholstered their pistols. Taking careful aim, the barrels of eight blasters pointed toward the approaching Sith.
"Halt! Identify yourself!" one of the Jedi called out. The stranger remained silent as he continued his trek across the empty chamber, almost warm in his unfaltering calm. "I said halt! This is your final warning!"
The trespasser had already passed the chamber's midpoint, near to the point the defenders could see the adult Human's handsome, smiling face. He continued to walk, unimpeded by the Jedi's words, less than ten meters between himself and the vault protectors. The unsettling sight chilled one of the security guards to the core, causing him to release an errant bolt from his blaster.
In one swift motion, the stranger drew and ignited the crimson blade of his lightsaber, raising it to intercept in the blink of an eye. The bolt of energy connected with the blade, reflecting back at the attacker with utmost precision, impacting against the guard's chest. The round pierced the light armoring of the security guard, sending him crumbling to the ground.
His comrades released an angered torrent of blaster fire, which the Sith expertly sidestepped and reflected. The security force dropped, one by one, until the Jedi ordered a ceasefire. The two remaining shooters lowered their weapons, standing by as the pair of Jedi leapt forward. The guardians drew their sabers, two blue beams of energy ready to lash out against the trespasser. The Sith glided across the chamber floor, dodging the first round of blows. The Jedi moved in unison, attacking the Sith with graceful martial prowess. A normal Sith would have buckled under the combined assault of the Jedi Knights, but they were not facing a normal Sith.
The Sith moved without a single misstep, not a single wasted movement. Each strike that came his way was blocked and parried with minimal effort. He was strong. He was fast. He was unbeatable. The first Jedi fell as the tip of the Sith's blade pierced his guard, digging just deep enough into the Knight's chest so as to reach his heart. The second fell soon after, hitting the ground in two pieces after being bisected at the waist.
The two remaining guards watched the invader calmly dust himself off without displaying a single sign of exhaustion. Taking a single step toward the vault, the officers raised their blasters only to find themselves struggling to breath. Clutching at their necks, the men's legs grew weak as they slumped to the floor. Writhing on the ground, the last of the defenders released their last breaths as all motion stopped.
Standing in front of the vast, reinforced door, Thorel took a deep breath before releasing a calm, collected exhalation. Saber in hand, the Sith carefully began pushing his the blade into the vault door, molten metal dripping from the insertion point.
Vault Two. The chamber in front of the second safehouse was embroiled in battle, consumed by the cacophonous pings of blaster bolts leaving their barrels and impacting against the nearby walls. A black figure darted back and forth across the chamber as the security forces struggled to find their target. The shadowed figure swung his red blade as he glided across the floor, intercepting the occasional blaster bolt as the rest flew over his head. The bolts were carelessly flung back toward their source, but only occasionally managed to find a target. Despite his lateral movement, the trespasser slowly advanced across the chamber, closing the distance between himself and the vault.
The invader was garbed head to toe in black armored plates, his face concealed by a helmet, through the top of which a crown of horns emerged. When half the defenders fell, the Zabrak charged forward, leaping and landing amongst the vault security. The warrior cut down the guards nearest him as the two Jedi assigned to the area readied their weapons.
A blaster bolt impacted against the armored intruder's back, prompting him to release a hushed yelp from beneath his encompassing helmet. The injury only drove the warrior into a rage, causing him to lash out at the remaining defenders. The invader's attacks were wild, driven by an internal strength beyond measure. Batting away the blades of the Jedi, Ikton made short work of them with a series of overpowering blows.
Vault Three. Taking defensive positions near the reinforced vault door, the Jedi directed the security forces to open fire across the chamber. The flurry of blaster bolts rang out toward the room's entrance, a number of intruders ducking back into the safety of the connecting hallway. One lone acolyte stood his ground, attempting to reflect the onslaught of blaster fire, only to succumb to the defender's attacks.
As the continuing assault rang out in the adjacent chamber, the acolytes hugged the walls, waiting for some break in the attack. But it would not come, as the bolts continued to fly by and impact against nearby walls. As the invaders struggled to formulate a plan, they heard an echoing voice emanating from the halls behind them. A strong, forceful, female voice.
"Clear a path!"
The acolytes turned toward the source of the voice to see a pale-skinned warrior sprinting down the hallway, a male Twi'lek in her wake. The Rattataki plunged herself headfirst into the opposing blaster fire, sabers ignited, guard raised. The warrior pushed past the wave of suppressing fire, crossing the chamber's midpoint before the defenders even had a chance to react. Two of the guards were felled by reflected blaster fire, and the rest of them found their blasters ripped from their hands. Their attention focused on the pale invader, they had not noticed the wide, sweeping motions of the robed Twi'lek's hands. The loosed weapons slid across the floor, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the chamber.
Peeking their heads in, the acolytes saw the pair making headway amidst the defenders, their weapons wrested from their hands. Not a moment later, the acolytes began to pour in, sabers raised and ignited, their cries of war echoing throughout the chamber. They charged across the room to join Kar'ai and Ryloh in taking the vault.
Vault Four. A pair of intruders stood in the center of the safehouse chamber, the defenders' eyes and weapons focused on the two trespassers. The invaders were identical in appearance, sharing the same height, build, and garb. Armor procured from the standard military channels covered the two figures from head to toe. Blacks, grays, and reds, arranged in standardized form. Though the pair were identical in appearance, they were disparate in armament. From one another. From their contemporaries. One carried a metallic pole equal to its wielder in height. The other, a rod roughly the length of a dual-bladed saberstaff.
"This is the very opposite of laying low," one of the intruders muttered in a dull, pacified tone.
"When Tash left, so did our jobs," the other intruder replied, almost matching the other's tone exactly. "This'll let us choose who we're transferred to."
"Shoot low, as we always say," the first muttered.
An approaching rumble emerged from the connecting hallways as a sizable group made their way toward the chamber.
"Better late than never I suppose," the second muttered. "Almost thought they'd gotten lost."
As the group of acolytes neared the chamber entrance, one of the two men tapped the bottom of his pole against the floor, an energized beam emanating from its other tip. The other man gripped his weapon in both hands, a single blade of energy emerging from its emitter, extending beyond the length of an ordinary lightsaber. The quartermaster directed the polearm toward the enemy line, whilst the weapons master's hands tightened around his two-handed lightsaber.
Vault Five. The group of acolytes were urged forward by a Zabrak warrior barking the call for war as the group advanced in unison. The defenders released a volley of blaster fire toward the advancing trespassers, some finding their mark, some finding their bolts reflected back at them, and a select few finding their weapons explode in their hands after a bolt of electricity coursed through their energy cells. Slinking amidst the charging invaders was a female Twi'lek, lightning arcing between her fingertips.
The Jedi set their sights on the group's supposed leader, lifting their blades against the armored Zabrak. The pair attacked together, their strikes rattling the warrior's guard. The countless hours spent combating his allies prepared him for even the toughest opponents, but the Knights were not without their skill. And the combined efforts of two Jedi seeking to end his life proved a challenge we was not fully prepared for.
But as the attackers would not relent, neither would he. The Zabrak defended the blows as best as he could, but as he clashed sabers with one of the Jedi, the other was free to bring his weapon down upon the distracted foe. Just before the blue blade could connect, however, it was interceded by one of a vibrant purple. The warrior looked to see his partner standing at his side, holding off the second Jedi as the acolytes dealt with the remaining guardsmen.
The two shared a quick look and a determined nod, before pushing away their attackers and preparing attacks of their own. Isorr and Arlia stood back to back, sabers raised, ready to strike.
Vault Six. The defenders guarding the safehouse puzzled with how to proceed. There was a planet-wide invasion underway and the other vaults were under siege. The Jedi and security officers struggled with the decision to remain at their post or to abandon it in favor of other ventures. As the figures bickered and argued over duty and patriotism, their dispute was culled at the sound of footsteps echoing from the neighboring halls. Slow, patient footsteps. The guardsmen readied themselves for whatever threat might emerge, setting their sights on the dark void of the connecting passage. The corridor was cloaked in shadows, almost supernaturally so. Emerging from the cloak of darkness was a long figure, who still wore the shadows in the form of pitch black hooded robes that enwrapped his body. The dark figure continued his slow trek across the chamber, fingers interlocked in front of him, face concealed within the black void beneath his hood.
"Don't take another step," one of the Jedi called out.
A low chortle emerged from the hooded figure, pounding the senses of the defenders. "Is that any way to welcome home a lost Jedi?"
The defenders stood in confusion, keeping their gazes focused entirely on the lone, now stationary figure. Training their weapons on the trespasser, they expected something to occur, but instead found the figure silent and stilled. But before any of them could speak out, a small clump of rubble struck one of the officer's shoulders from above.
Looking up at the high ceiling, the officer saw the silhouette of a massive humanoid lurking above, claws dug into the metallic surface. Releasing its vicelike grip, the beast descended upon the defenders, lashing out with sharp, blackened claws. The first invader simply watched in silence as the monster decimated the forces, ending each officers' life with a single swipe of its hands.
The Jedi lashed out with their sabers, only to find their strikes unable to cut through the beast's claws. Batting the blades away, the red-skinned monster took hold of one of the Jedi's scalps, tossing and slamming him into the ground like a ragdoll. The other looked to the unwavering beast, frozen with fright. With a wide swing of its arm, the monster sent the remaining Jedi's weapon flying from his hand. The other claw grasped around the defender's neck, lifting him off the ground as he struggled to breath.
Only now did the dark figure break his stilled stance, slowly stepping toward the helpless Jedi. Fighting through the exhaustion and pain, the last of the defenders opened his eyes to see the figure staring at him from beneath his veiled visage. The trespasser carefully took hold of his hood and lowered it, revealing the shattered remains of his head. The entirety of the back of his skull was missing, and what remained of his flesh was pale and decomposing. The last thing the Jedi saw was the walking cadaver force a smile through his cracked lips.
Vault Seven. The defenders found themselves under attack by a group of invaders, amongst them a towering Trandoshan and an emotionless Nikto. The invaders washed over the Jedi and security officers like a tidal wave, spreading out laterally to overwhelm the defenders with pure might. The acolytes preyed upon the ill-equipped guardsmen, whilst the two figures who stood apart from their fellows set their sharpened eyes upon the pair of Jedi. The two Knights saw the challenge and met it head on. Drawing not one saber each but two, the sentinels were determined to destroy the foes that had invaded their realm.
The Jedi and Sith marched toward one another, clashing blades and shaking the very ground beneath them as the force of each blow was absorbed and channeled through the battlers' feet. The Trandoshan swung his dual dueling swords against the sentinel's pair of yellow blades, the Sith weapons enduring the immense heat of the sabers' plasma. The exchange of blades was a swirling flurry of might and skill as the combatants simultaneously maintained the offensive whilst preserving their defenses.
The Nikto faced his opponent, half as equipped in the blade department, but more than capable of making up for the fact with expert dueling skills. The invader kept a firm grip on his single saber, monitoring his opponent's strikes, studying him in the midst of battle, learning every strength and weakness.
The battle proceeded, the acolytes continuing to deal with the security forces whilst the other two engaged the skilled sentinels. The Trandoshan and his opponent proved themselves equally skilled, neither able to gain significant ground or advantage. Their strikes were continuous and endless, their guard unbreakable and untiring. But the Trandoshan wasn't content with being an equal. He would slay his prey by any means necessary.
Ready to end the bout in an instant, the Trandoshan warrior swung wide with one of his blades. The Jedi moved to intercept, raising one of his blade upright and in the path of the strike. But he underestimated the warrior's reach. Instead of blocking the blade, the lightsaber cut effortlessly through the Trandoshan's unprotected forearm. But the momentum in the severed hand meant the strike proceeded without interruption, effortlessly slashing through flesh and bone as the blade made a clean cut from ear to ear.
As the Jedi's body slumped to the ground, the Trandoshan moved to where his body part had landed, the severed hand still tightly gripping the hilt of his other sword. The warrior kicked his own hand free from the blade and bent over to pick up the weapon. With only a single hand, the Trandoshan was forced to hold the second blade in his teeth. Jaws clenched around the hilt of the black sword, the warrior once more had his two blades and did not hesitate to return to the fray.
Vaults Eight, Nine, and Ten. The next three vaults were forced to go without reinforcements. The eighth safehouse found itself sundered by a well-organized group of acolytes, a pair of Humans leading the invaders with great proficiency. Ornell and Jora divided their forces evenly amongst the defenders, striking out with poise and efficiency. The group would not be without casualties, but they would not suffer defeat.
The ninth safehouse shared a similar fate as the eighth's as the former classmates of Isorr sought to secure the contents of the vault. Instead of the calculated precision carried out by the inquisitors, the group of warriors charged forward guided only by righteous fury and unfiltered determination. The acolytes attacked in unison, not as well-trained soldiers but as a motley gang of misfits that knew the price of failure. They possessed a confidence and tenacity beyond mere pride, capable of fueling their actions and driving them forward.
The tenth safehouse found themselves in more dire circumstances. The class of inquisitors did not possess the bolstered training and preparation of Lorrik's former classroom, and neither did they receive the additional aid Lorrik had sought to provide them. Their protectors elsewhere, the group of acolytes progress was halted, pinned down by the wall of blaster fire supplied by the security forces. They knew nothing of the progress the other classrooms had made in securing their vaults. They knew nothing of the protection afforded to the others. They knew nothing of the absent reinforcements meant to prevent the very situation they found themselves in.
Vault Eleven. In a grandiose chamber not dissimilar to the ten before it, a number of defenders lay motionless upon the ground, scattered about the empty chamber. Severed limbs and seared torsos littered the area around the vault's reinforced door, only a single figure remaining standing. The Human was tall, powerful, garbed in the armored plates of a decorated lord of war. Heavy boots, gauntlets, and pauldrons reinforced an armorweave bodysuit, a dark cape hovering its tail just above the stained flooring.
Tash looked to the vault's door, marveling in its simplicity. A smile graced the Darth's gracefully aged visage. But before he could partake in his acquired bounty, he felt a powerful presence at the opposite end of the chamber. Turning around, the Human saw a familiar face step into the large room from the connecting hallway. The alien Sith Lord's uncovered head possessed two long, down-curved horns emanating from the sides of his cranium, the tips of which came to an end beneath his chin.
The Sith Lord possessed his usual garb of battle-scarred armor plating beset by a heavy black cloak. He looked to Tash with a deadly stare, eyes sharpened, mouth barely containing the want for a snarl.
"Syrosk," Tash said from across the chamber. "I almost thought you wouldn't make it."