The Slayer squinted as Jiro's posse closed in. He only needed to zoom in with his HUD once now; they were getting close. Close enough to spot details.
Jiro's tank was in the lead, and the posse was going at his pace. It was painted red with black zigzags flowing over it. There were more weapon emplacements than normal for a Florrum pirate tank, and each of them were manned. Jiro himself was visible in the top hatch.
And right there, beside him, was Worm. Miserable, lifeless, decrepit. The Slayer wanted to avoid hurting him, now knowing what he did about the poor old man. But it was very likely that he would need to. They still needed to rescue him and capture Jiro. But how on earth could they do that on the move like this, much less with the fact that there was a bomb in Worm's neck?
The Slayer's mouth thinned. Couldn't they check inside Hondo's crate and see if it contained a weapon or tool to help?
"My sensors cannot detect what may be in the crate," VEGA replied. The Slayer became momentarily shocked by the AI's apparent mind-reading. "For all we know, it may be a biological weapon, a nuclear bomb, or antimatter. Or it may simply be counterfeit credits. It would be best to not risk it. Besides, if it's a one-time weapon, it would be as if we failed to retrieve the crate in the first place, and Hondo will not be pleased."
Pleasing Hondo Ohnaka was not on the Slayer's to-do list. But VEGA's point stood; it was too risky, and the whole point of the mission might be nullified.
Once this was over, he was going to figure out just how intelligent VEGA actually was.
"I will explain, but now is not the best time."
The Slayer huffed and rolled his eyes.
"We lost one," came an officer over the comms. "Kivel took three shots to the back. We tried our best."
Nerissa's heart panged for the fallen man. No one else could afford to be lost. The nine of them, against three war parties? VEGA had shown the pursuing vehicles on the dashboard monitor, and it sure seemed like they were out-armed.
But they had the Slayer. So far he was unstoppable. So long as he was with them, they could not lose.
Two bangs on the hood of the cabin accompanied the Slayer's helmet appearing in the sunroof. To Nerissa's surprise, he delicately passed down a rocket launcher, plus a magazine of six rockets. Oltrain took them with some hesitancy.
Daska huffed in amusement. "We may need it."
The Slayer's head disappeared again. Nerissa motioned as if to follow him, but settled for watching the dashboard monitor instead. The rear cameras were displaying the oncoming horde drawing closer and closer. The dust kicked up by their approach masked them somewhat, but not by much.
"May the Force be with us," Nerissa whispered.
The horde was close enough that the Slayer could hear their hollers and jeers– barely above the roars of the hovercraft. Speeder bikes were in front, decorated with barbed wire and skulls. Behind them were the bulbous hovercars, then the tanks and support craft.
An echoey electric blast accompanied an eruption of earth right in their path. Captain Daska managed to keep the train steady. Then another identical blast, and a deafening boom.
The Slayer could see what had happened. One of the approaching tanks had chosen to fire on the hovertrain's side and missed. Then Jiro had fired his own tank at that one, causing it to turn into a fiery waste of metal that was still retaining its speed.
"You destroy Hondo's crate, you die!" Jiro bellowed at the sputtering wreckage. If there was anyone left in the tank that heard the message, it was irrelevant as it was quickly left behind by the rest of the entourage.
So that was their plan. They didn't know where the crate was. They were going to board the hovertrain or stop it, but not destroy it. But if they learned that the crate was in the Slayer's hammerspace, they would.
So he needed to not let them board.
The Slayer leaned over the railings of the twin-barrel turret and swung it to the rear of the train. Taking aim at the speeders in the formation's front, he let loose.
The red blaster needles went wide and fast, and the Slayer's wide sweeps only very occasionally made contact with the speeders. They glanced off the armor plating or missed, even when it was pointing right at them.
The Slayer frowned. There had to be a better method than this.
The Slayer tramped in front of the scatterblaster stand. Making sure everyone could see him, he drew out the assault rifle, fitted the Micro-Missiles mod, and let loose a torrent in a wide arc. Seeking, spiraling, and impacting on their targets, the missiles sowed explosive confusion among the ranks of the speeders for the space of two seconds, which was how long it took Worm to raise his arm.
The rest of the missiles flew harmlessly up into the air, where they detonated in plumes of smoke. Some even curved back around and slammed into the side of the hovertrain. Between the shields and the plating, all it did was rock the thing a bit, but it was enough for the Slayer to reconsider his approach.
Thinking a second, the Slayer next pulled out his combat shotgun and began pumping explosive shots at the closest speeder. Sure enough, Worm's use of the Force blew the explosives just far enough to the side to not blow it apart; just damage the speeder enough to dip down and crash. Its wreckage turned into a flaming ball that the rest of the speeders avoided.
In return, three different pirates on three different tanks fired deafening rockets in quick succession. The Slayer had seen them aim, and he effortlessly tanked the three subsequent explosions. The wind of their speed soon made the fire and smoke around him clear up, and he emerged unhurt. The sight would surely be discouraging to them.
But Worm had psychological warfare of his own. His arm curled at the elbow, and the Slayer felt the hovertrain begin to drag, almost. The distance between their forces quickly began to close, and the Slayer mentally cursed. Blasted Force!
The horde was close enough that the smaller hovercraft could reach the train, and four of the loaded speeders began to run alongside the train. The Slayer kept a wary eye on them. Each of them carried a flag for a different tribe, but the two starboard speeders carried black flags, calling for the Republic's destruction.
Once a speeder was on one end of each of the two cars, the officers inside opened fire through the portholes.
The front right had both its occupants shot to pieces, and it swerved way off to the side and eventually rolled to a crash. The front left's engine ignited in a deafening blast that caught the driver on fire and caused a ball of debris that the driver behind him could not avoid. His other occupant had leapt from the speeder, but bashed his forehead on the edge and couldn't get a grip, instantly rolling into the dirt.
The final speeder had its other occupant leap onto the train too, and this time he made it. Clinging for dear life on the rear, the gray Weequay fiddled in his pouch for something– likely an explosive.
The Slayer bent his head over the edge, and the Weequay's face pulled in horror upon seeing him pointing the combat shotgun at his head.
The Slayer cocked the gun and did nothing more.
After a moment, the Slayer just gestured the gun to the side, and the pirate, understanding, turned and leaped off the hovertrain. He didn't survive the impact.
The Slayer drew his head up again and began to ponder. The missiles, grenades, and enemy blasterfire could not harm the Slayer, but it could eventually overwhelm the hovertrain. And anything substantial he could fire at the enemy would be deflected by Worm, or even launched back to the train.
So the Slayer needed to take a more hands-on approach.
Two tanks had caught up to the hovertrain, within double-jumping distance. One was covered in rusty spikes like a porcupine, and the other had exposed wiring on the back and carried four snapping red flags calling for the Ithorian genocide. The two tanks didn't dare fire at him; he had just shown he ate missiles for breakfast. But the half-dozen-odd pirates in those tanks were rearing to jump on the train itself.
Just to check, he quickly tossed a thermal detonator into one of the tanks. Before it could hit the deck, it levitated high enough to detonate in a harmless ball of flame.
The Slayer fixed Worm with a look of irritation that he was sure could be seen through his opaque helmet. He fired a charged burst at Jiro's tank, and sure enough, Worm's outstretched arm was able to deflect any of the compressed buckshot.
The Slayer's task was clear. Overpower Worm and take Jiro onto the hovertrain. No one else was qualified to do it. But that would leave the hovertrain defenseless except for the officers.
It was a risk he was willing to take.
The Slayer took a deep breath. He folded his shotgun over his shoulder, disappearing into hammerspace. And he jumped.
He landed on the closest tank's hood. The pirate atop the gun emplacement spewed a gout of flame into the Slayer's helmet, blocking his vision. That moment was all it took for the driver to brake suddenly, sending the Slayer stumbling down the front. His hand gripped the front grill right before he went under the hovercraft, making his feet drag on the super-fast beige earth beneath him.
The Slayer, fuming, used his other fist to punch shoulder-deep into the bow. An explosion ripped from the craft, sending it sliding horizontally at 60 miles an hour. The angle of its drift sent the front, and by extension the Slayer, into the path of the enormous speeder-carrier.
He got his feet under him, then pushed off and double-jumped directly into the cabin's side. Just after that, the tank he had been on collided with the earth and rolled into a ball of fiery junk, which was quickly left behind.
The Slayer's hand had pierced the door leading in, and he felt something squishy tight around his wrist; the Slayer must have punched right through the driver too. He was still barely hanging on, feet kicking just above the blurring earth.
Ping, ping, ricochet. Blaster bolts were hitting his helmet. The Slayer scrunched his face in annoyance.
A roaring speeder, decorated an ugly bone white and coated with barbed wire, pulled right beside the carrier. The goggled pirate bellowed something incomprehensible. He laughed and slammed the entire chassis into the Slayer, swerving the carrier.
The second time he attempted this, the Slayer's legs wrapped around the front steering vanes of the speeder; the impacts had not hurt him. Curling his torso almost entirely vertical made the speeder come above the cabin. And its weight pulled the Slayer up and on top too. The speeder was released at the apex of its arc, and the whole thing, pirate included, flew end over end into the earth.
The fireball that erupted did not deter any of the pirates, who screamed things the Slayer couldn't hear. The Slayer swiftly got atop the speeder deployment system, looking for the next hovercraft to leap to.
The pirates had, of course, taken the opportunity the Slayer's absence had provided to speed alongside the hovertrain. More frag grenades were bouncing off the edges and blowing in balls of flame. Blasterfire ricocheted harmlessly against the plating. A tank and two cars were coming alongside the hovertrain, hoping to board it point-blank.
One of the officers had opened the second car's top hatch and was using it as cover to easily fire down on the pirates manning the speeders. Two pirates hanging on to the hovercars were blasted off. The turret for the tank couldn't tilt up enough to fire at him, and the mounted flamethrower couldn't get the range it needed. But his D-15 could only do so much against the tank.
One of the hovercars slowed to just behind the rear of the train, and three more pirates leaped from the car to the rear of the train. One lost his grip, though, and fell and bounced off his own car. He was instantly left behind in the dust.
The exposed officer glanced at the mounted scatterblaster. It was open, ready for anyone to take. The pirates holding on to the rear were so close.
"I'm going for it!" he yelled down at the other officers. Then he rushed from behind cover.
He had only reached the railing of the seat when he was pierced by sharp blasterfire twice, in the leg and side. He slumped on the railing, reaching for the controls just out of reach.
"Haldrin!" one of the officers below deck screamed. He immediately resumed Haldrin's position behind the hatch.
As much as the Slayer wanted to help them out, he had bigger fish to fry. He rushed to the roof of the speeder carrier's cabin, knelt down, gripped the edge of the cabin roof, and tore it off like paper. The exposed cabin showed the bloody corpse of the Weequay driver, even now riding in death.
The slayer dropped down, crushing his corpse, and pushed on what he figured was the acceleration. The carrier kept its course, and he managed to steer it closer to Jiro's position. Three Weequays inside the carrier had managed to get on top, and were trying to close the distance to the driver's cabin.
A rust-red car with the white gear-and-pistol flags had pulled alongside the hovertrain cabin doors up ahead. Two occupants on top were using their pikes and boathooks to jab at the windows and hook the indented handles. A third was rearing his hand back to throw a thermal detonator.
The train swerved into the car, and right as it ended the swerve, Daska opened the heavy metal door out. One of the two pikemen was knocked off by the impact, and the grenadier had been bashed by the driver door, stumbling backwards and toppling to his death. The last pikeman thrust at the exposed Daska, missing him but snaring the wheel.
Daska wrestled with the wheel and the hook, while Nerissa aimed over his bent back and pierced the pirate through the heart with a blaster bolt. He fell, taking the pike with him.
Now that the pirate was out of the way, one of the tanks just behind the train took aim and fired. The heavy red blaster bolt grazed the open driver side door, and it was enough to blow the whole thing off with a burst of flame. Daska yelped and shied away from the hot metal, and Nerissa quickly grabbed the wheel to keep it steady while Daska shook burning embers and shrapnel out of his clothes.
Nerissa noisily jerked the wheel and shifted gears. The hovertrain slowed down just a tad, backing into one of the tanks behind them. One of the pirates on the back toppled over onto the tank which had made the shot, hanging onto its cannon. And the troublesome car suddenly was in front of the train.
Right in front of the four forward blaster cannons.
Daska hit the controls. Each of them fired twice, and the hovercar turned into fiery scrap. Its remains plummeted backwards, impacted the front of the train with a spectacular eruption of scrap, and fell beneath the repulsors.
From the cabin of the carrier, the Slayer fist-pumped; the officers had managed to hold their own! But they needed his help, and quickly.
He turned his head. Keeping one eye on the road and one on Jiro and Worm allowed the Slayer's helmet visual receptors to read their lips and decipher subtitles, even at a distance.
"Master," Worm hurriedly got out, pointing at the hovertrain. "I can get to the train now. But it means the formation will be open to attack."
Jiro's face twisted in quick anguished thought before relenting. "Fine. Go, Worm. Stop the train, return my prize… and I myself shall deliver you to The Cosmic Force."
Worm's face visibly bugged in awe. "I… will be eternal?"
"I asked you if you wanted to be more than trash, right?" Jiro urged on, and there was sadistic irony in his tone. "This is your chance to prove it to the galaxy. Every choice you've made has led to this moment."
Worm, his eyes sparkling, got more fully out of the red-and-black tank hatch.
The Slayer, upon seeing this, swerved as quickly as he could to Jiro. His maneuver banged into two hovercars, and the pirates returned fire. Some sticky grenades attached to the hood of the engine and the door, and they blew apart in spectacular plumes of flame. The Slayer was now driving a doomed carrier, and the pirates on top knew this too. They frantically began to search for nearby vehicles to hop down on.
The flame gout crackling from the engine made it hard for the Slayer to see. He turned to the side and saw Jiro looking dead at him; he was level.
The Slayer pointed at him and bowed his head. He was sure Jiro got the message.
His vision was obstructed yet again by the front cabin of another vehicle lining up. It was the fuel tanker, and the driver pointed his blaster pistol at the Slayer's engine and opened fire. The flame began to sputter even more.
The Slayer slammed his carrier into the fuel tanker– or would have, if a car hadn't been in the way. It collided between the two titans, tilted as the Slayer grinded it closer, groaned and squealed in protest, and eventually exploded. The two craft went reeling away again. Both began billowing oily black smoke from their ends.
The Slayer frantically stood up from his seat and looked at the train's situation. The top hatch had closed, the scatterblaster turret had been taken by a group of four pirates, and they were urging Worm to come on, jump on board!
Worm, for his part, had leaped gracefully from Jiro's tank to another tank, then to a car, and was bending his knees to jump to the train. The rags and bandages on him snapped in the wind.
All four pirates were looking at Worm, curling their arms in urgent fervor.
Which meant they couldn't see Oltrain from the driver cabin poke out of the sunroof. Or see the rocket launcher in his hands.
At the very instant that Worm jumped, Oltrain fired.
The startled pirates instantly turned to bloody burnt gibbets in the ensuing fireball. The scatterblaster and its turret were incinerated. And Worm was blown back by the force of the explosion, landing back on the car. Worm's blood and the pirate's blood spattered on the car surface, staining the windshield and blowing away in the wind.
It gave the Slayer an idea of sorts. The force of an explosion could launch something very far indeed.
The pirates on the carrier still weren't all the way off, so when he leaped out of the bloodied cabin and double-jumped to the tanker, one managed to drop in and do his best to stabilize the doomed vehicle.
The Slayer had managed to punch a hole into the guts of the tanker's cabin side; he could feel the cables and scrap metal in his grip. He was close enough to read a red sticker on the side.
CAUTION: RHYDONIUM MIXTURE
DO NOT EXPOSE TO FLAME
STORE IN A FIRE-RESISTANT, COOL, DRY PLACE
And then there was a cute image of a stick figure's limbs blowing off.
The Slayer yanked himself up to the top of the tanker. The cylindrical mass was so large, the Slayer could stand shoulder-length apart and not feel curvature. Way at the end, there was a smoking wound where the car had exploded against it. The Slayer sprinted to it, and a second later, he could peer over the side.
He stuck his face in the oily plume. It turned out that the car's explosion hadn't torn the actual tanker itself, but had blown open the frame.
Still ignoring red blasterfire pinging off him, the Slayer produced five thermal detonators and planted them in the grooves and corners atop the tanker. Each of them began to beep rapidly. The vehicles closest to the hovertrain quickly inferred what the Slayer was about to do, and swerved away as far as they could.
The Slayer turned and faced the faraway hovertrain. Whatever rhydonium was, it surely couldn't pierce his armor. He simply needed its very strong, very hot push.
Three seconds later, the grenades ruptured the tanker surface.
A series of blinding rainbow-colored flames billowed from the holes, quickly turning into furrowing fireballs that blasted debris to its side and burst the tanker open from one end to the other. As the tanker ripped apart section by section and turned into by far the largest explosion yet, the Slayer felt the surface he was standing on fly into the air, and it was only then that he leaped.
It was ethereal, almost, flying in the midst of green, orange, and violet flames. The tanker itself had almost evaporated by now, and the hovercraft in its range had ruptured into flame.
The Slayer's plan had worked. Almost too well; the Slayer was high above the train's cabin, and didn't show signs of slowing.
Quickly reorienting himself, the Slayer double-jumped, changing trajectory. It made him crash into the hovertrain's roof hard enough to dent it.
The Slayer got to his feet in time to see the fruits of his labors. A good quarter of Jiro's vehicles had been thinned by that one maneuver. A sputtering rainbow fireball had been left behind in the desert wastes. And Jiro was madder than ever.
As the Slayer tramped forward, he was introduced to his true fight.
From out of sight, Worm hurled himself in a graceful high leap onto the end of the hovertrain. He skidded a bit, but ended in a crouch. With one surge of the Force, his lightsaber flew into his hand and fountained green out to the side. He swiped and shore away the scrap metal that had once been the scatterblaster turret, falling to the side and bouncing away.
The Doomslayer raised his fists, but did not attack. He knew that Golyon Chi was acting against his will, and that his lightsaber could not pierce his armor. So he wanted to drag it out a bit and keep the Jedi occupied; with Worm onboard, Jiro wouldn't dare fire on his valuable asset.
Worm rushed. The Slayer intercepted him, catching his lightsaber in his elbow and giving a hit to his torso that made the Jedi stumble. Worm deactivated his lightsaber, swirled it to a better spot, and activated it again at the Slayer's armpit. Once more, the plasma fizzled on contact with his armor. The Slayer kicked, sending him backflipping to the edge of the hovertrain.
Worm seized the Slayer through the Force and yanked with his hand. It was much weaker than Worm expected, as all it did was bend the Slayer at the waist briefly. Worm windmilled his lightsaber in one hand while igniting the other end. Then he leaped at the Slayer, flipped to a different position the instant his feet touched down, and slammed his green blade into the hovertrain's roof between the Slayer's legs.
The Slayer swiveled and flicked. Upon impacting Worm's fingers, several cracks came from them. His face pulled in pain, and he let go. The Slayer seized Worm's lightsaber and pried it from the hovertrain, holding it in a guarding stance.
The hovertrain itself was swerving, heading left to the south. Both the Slayer and Worm steadied themselves from the sudden inertia, and some pirates took the chance to fire at the hovertrain's briefly-exposed port side. Two tank blasts impacted the side of the train, the shields and plating were overwhelmed, and with a fiery blossom, a great hole tore open in the middle section. The cargo bay could be seen from the outside. The crew was in danger!
And oddly enough, Jiro hadn't shot them to pieces. Perhaps he was just desperate now.
Worm bellowed, flecking spit. He rushed. The Slayer swung the saber, but Worm's fist, incredibly, batted the blade aside!
The Slayer was so surprised by this development that when Worm yanked through the Force, his lightsaber de-ignited. This all happened right as Worm's other hand struck the Slayer's helmet, doing no damage but disorienting him further.
As the Slayer looked down to figure out how to turn the stupid thing back on, Worm curled his arm, and it flew right back to him. Worm clipped it back to his belt, and he shot at the Slayer with raised fists.
Blazingly fast hand-to-hand combat ensued. Punch, block, parry, impact, repeat. Plus the occasional twirl or cartwheel from Worm to build a strike's momentum. Despite his age, Worm was surprisingly agile, and none of the Slayer's held-back supersonic strikes ever actually made full contact. Boom, boom, boom, went the blasts of Force from Worm's fists.
So Worm's hand had not actually touched the saber's blade a few moments prior. He had just coated his hand in a small bubble of Force that had blasted the thing aside on impact. It was the same technique he was using now. Every impact against the Slayer's armor was still negligible, but on a different opponent, it would have been debilitating.
The Slayer, in spite of himself, smiled. Where had these guys been? They could have made a killing in Argent D'Nur!
From the exposed left side of the hovertrain, the remaining officers were returning fire as best they could. A few pursuing speeders had turned into left-behind wreckage.
But one speeder pushing from the blind right side had a pirate leap onto the armor plating. He shimmied on the edges of the armor to the cabin passenger window, and once in reach, he pulled a thermal detonator from his waist and armed it. He pulled it back.
One blaster shot from the passenger window detonated it.
A fireball rocked the side of the cabin, consuming the pirate and blowing a dent into the passenger door. The accompanying speeder swerved at the too-sudden sound and was blinded by the fireball. It collided with the underside of the hovertrain and tumbled into a speeding ball of fiery scrap.
The Slayer's head turned in concern to the cabin passenger seat. That had been where Nerissa was sitting!
It was an opening for Worm, who with all his might yanked the Force, causing the Slayer's bent knees to drop. Worm lunged and feinted, causing the kneeling Slayer to miss his blind jab and give Worm time to wrap himself around the Slayer's outstretched arm and try to bend it the wrong way. But of course, he couldn't get it to.
The Doomslayer turned to regard Worm with ever-increasing respect. Of course Worm couldn't defeat him, and the only reason the Slayer had held back was because Worm was inherently a good person that needed reformation. But this old man, this Jedi, had given him more trouble than the average Hell Knight, or even a Mancubus. He was more creative, more persistent, more varied in attacks and more full of potential.
None of this came out of his mouth to the struggling Worm. VEGA, however, acted instead.
"You are acting against your will," VEGA plainly told him using his suit's speakers. "If you wish to escape captivity, this is your best chance."
Worm's eyes flickered to the side. He didn't respond; Jiro's conditioning must have done something to him.
"Your name is Golyon Chi," VEGA reminded him. "You like to do crosswords on sheets of flimsy. You are a Jedi knight, and a guardian of peace and justice."
Golyon's lips tightened, and his eyes quivered. A few deep breaths later, he blasted Force into the Slayer's face and broke free, backing to the end of the hovertrain.
He once more ignited his lightsaber to the side. "I am Worm!" he cried, and pain was etched into the lines of his face and the tone of his voice.
"You still have the power to do good," VEGA soothed. "The choices you make are yours alone. Each of them has led you to this moment."
Golyon was stiff, yet trembling. The rags and bandages that constituted his only apparel were flapping behind him in the wind. The roars of the hovertrain, of the convoy, of the jeers and yells of the pirates, were all left behind.
Then Golyon bent his knees and leaped into the air, far over the Slayer's head. He landed near the front of the hovertrain and ran to the roof of the cabin. The Slayer mentally swore and swiftly pulled out his Super Shotgun, aiming it at the Jedi's back.
Nerissa leaned her head out of the cabin sunroof at that exact moment. Golyon froze, his lightsaber raised above his head. Their eyes met.
For only a moment, neither spoke.
"...Master Chi," Nerissa finally got out, pushing her flapping black hair out of her face. "Golyon Chi! My protector, my guide! You are… an incredible man! Don't let that monster's words tell you otherwise!"
The lightsaber was lowered to his side, going limp. "You're alive," Golyon stated. Were it not for the Slayer's sensors, he couldn't have heard him over the roaring wind. The Slayer kept his shotgun trained on Golyon, but took his finger off the trigger.
"I'm alive!" Nerissa confirmed. "Which means you still have a mission, your original purpose. To protect me. You promised! You are still a good man, Master Chi! You can still choose!"
Golyon Chi turned back to face Jiro, all the way in the lead hovertank. The man who held his life in his hands.
The Jedi turned back to Nerissa.
"Choose," Nerissa urged, but he could only see her mouth move.
And looking into her eyes, he did.
Golyon Chi smiled sadly.
His hand shot to the side.
With a single tug of the Force, the explosive embedded in his vein burst through the skin. It sailed backwards and loudly detonated in the air with a man-sized fireball.
"NO!" Jiro bellowed, and it could be heard over the sounds of battle.
"YES!" Nerissa exulted, leaning further out of the sunroof.
Golyon Chi straightened, put his lightsaber away, and turned to face his captors. His left hand was pressed on the left side of his neck, trying and failing to stem the profuse bleeding there. That half of him was slowly staining red. But never before had the Jedi seemed so alive, so animated, determined to act!
He motioned with his entire right arm. Jiro the Betrayer was yanked out of his hovertank with a yelp of shock and flew through the air in a beautiful arc far over everyone's heads.
Jiro landed soundly on his hip atop the hovertrain with a crack of bone and a bang of steel. The Slayer immediately ran over, turned Jiro on his back, and forcibly planted a boot atop his chest. A bone snapped beneath his boot, and the Slayer grimly smiled. They had what they wanted, and Golyon had made the right choice!
Blasterfire sang at Golyon, but it was all deflected by the Force into every direction. His outstretched hand trembled with effort and blood loss. The hand then closed in a fist, and many of the vehicles in pursuit trembled momentarily. Counterfire zinged all around Golyon. A blaster bolt got Golyon in the hip, and he wavered, but did not release.
They were in his grip.
Golyon Chi bellowed, flecking spit, and his hand came down.
Jiro's entire formation came apart. The resulting cataclysm was deliberate, cacophonous, and thorough. Speeder bikes collided with each other in fiery blossoms. The hovertanks which came around them promptly had their bows tipped to the ground or pried into the air, prompting more crashes. Some of the more nimble vehicles had managed to power through the destruction, but three-fourths of Jiro's remaining war party were wiped out by this one maneuver.
Golyon snarled and his hand shot to the side. The last two hovertanks promptly skidded horizontally while still moving forward, so hard their chassis dipped and sank into the soil. Both tanks bounced, rolled twice, and exploded. Fiery debris peppered the barren earth. Their remains were a mass of explosive slag that caused at least three pursuing speeders to loudly collide into them.
Golyon threw his hand up, gasping. The lightsaber clipped to his belt sailed away, ignited both ends in midair, and curved across the paths of the five remaining speeders, windmilling a fan of grass-green death. The steering vanes protruding from the speeder's fronts were all promptly sheared off, and one by one, the speeders hit the dirt, tumbling in balls of flaming wreckage.
And at last, all of his enemies had been slain.
Right before the lightsaber returned to his hand, Golyon dropped to his hands and knees, and the lightsaber banged on the hovertrain's edge and extinguished. With no hand on his neck, the wound reopened, and a torrent of blood poured down his side, splattering on the dirty metal.
Nerissa cried aloud, scrambling up and rushing over. She came to Golyon, pressing her own delicate hand on his wound. Both of them were making loud sounds of pain, of suffering. The Slayer made out, "Help!" from Nerissa's panicked screams.
So the Slayer kicked Jiro in the head to render him unconscious, then rushed to the cabin and bent his head down over the edge of the ruined passenger side door.
VEGA's scans of the upside-down interior revealed a first-aid kit in the glove compartment. The Slayer's fist demolished the door, then snagged it and bent back up again.
As quickly as he could, the Slayer rushed to Golyon's red side and cracked open the kit. Bandages, rubbing alcohol, small blue pads of 'bacta,' painkillers, cotton balls, 8 ounces of water, rubber gloves, needles. Nothing of the caliber needed to replace his blood loss.
Nevertheless, the Slayer soaked a cotton ball in alcohol, then pressed it on Golyon's small but deadly wound. He gasped and whimpered in pain, and hearing those sounds come from an old man made the Slayer's heart curdle.
After VEGA quickly showed him what to do with the bacta pad, he unraveled the bandages around Golyon's neck four times. He then fed him two painkillers with water.
"He has lost too much already," VEGA noted once the Slayer was done. "And his blood type is not compatible with anyone here. Combined with the shot in his hip, I'm afraid he cannot be saved."
The Slayer's lips tightened. What a shame, for Golyon to end like this after breaking out of captivity!
The pure white bandages around his neck were already discolored an unhealthy maroon. The sackcloth cloak had been permanently stained, and blood matted his scraggly beard, making it clump together and harden.
"I am a Jedi," Golyon gasped. "I am a Jedi."
"You've done it, Master Chi," Nerissa soothed, hovering a trembling hand over the Jedi's face. She drew the old man's head into her lap. "Mission accomplished. You knew, you always knew, who you were. You are a Jedi."
She took the long-hilt lightsaber off to the side and laid it on Golyon's chest. The cool, familiar weight would surely be a comfort here.
But he took it in his hands after a moment. And Golyon heaved dryly once, then held his lightsaber out to the Slayer.
"This weapon… is my life," he croaked. Golyon even managed to smile. "And it's fading. Where I'm going, this… would do me no good. But I… would be honored, if my life… would accompany you. Warrior."
The Slayer and Nerissa exchanged looks before he turned back to the dying man. With uncharacteristic gentleness, the Slayer took the weapon from his limp hands. Instead of putting it into hammerspace, the Slayer made sure to visibly clip it to his side.
Golyon's breathing was lighter, slower. Nerissa pried him upright a bit more, not caring anymore about the blood.
Golyon's gaze never left hers. "Who am I, lady Nerissa?" he breathed. "A mix of Worm and Golyon?"
"No, no," Nerissa replied. She swallowed. "Something far more than that."
Golyon nodded. It was weak, and his lips barely moved. "I know now… at the end. Who I truly am. I'm… Free."
His limp head leaned backwards.
Nerissa bowed her lead and let out a cry of anguish. It was loud, strained. Soon, though, it devolved into sniffles and sobs.
She did not let go of Golyon, even as the dim twilight began to settle. Hondo's war base could soon be seen in the distance.
The Slayer stood nearby, examining Golyon's body and reflecting inward.
With all the impersonal death he had seen on Mars, it was a tragedy. None of the deaths had meant anything to him, however. None of it impacted him as much as Golyon's death had. Golyon Chi was a kind soul who had gone out fighting, broken from the chains of his captors. He had therefore fully earned the Slayer's respect.
It was madness, the Slayer decided. Maximum madness, that the best should die while evil prospered. The Hutts were still out there, still implicitly responsible for the death of a Jedi.
The Slayer looked up into the emerging night sky. In all the countless stars up there, evil lurked. Materialistic evil, ideological evil, personal evil, reasonless evil, cosmic evil.
The Slayer's hand went to the bloody lightsaber at his side.
He would show them madness.
He would show them fury.