Rage Against the Light
Posted on Sat May 4th, 2019 @ 8:44pm by Nala Sao & Mange & Thane & Bomoor Thort & Tolmin Voq & Kelderesh jai Nektus
3,716 words; about a 19 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Korriban Orbital Station, Horuset system
Timeline: Late Korriban Day 3 (1,218 ABY)
ON:
A beeping alarm pinged frantically from a small personal terminal and a weathered old hand pressed just as frantically at the keys beside it, in an attempt to silence the alert and respond.
"No, no. We do not need to signal for assistance yet," he barked into the terminal, "I will be along shortly. Just... just be patient my young Padawan."
Master Falorn swept up his cloak, feeling the aches in his various joints particularly sharply today as he was thrust out of his allotted sleep and back into the life of the orbital station. He had barely gotten an hour of shut-eye before this rude awakening, but he would be a tach's uncle before he allowed his crew to summon a Republic armada without him present, particularly over just one mysterious ship.
He hurried along the corridor, the cold metal tormenting his bare feet, but he paid it no mind. By the time he ascended the lift into the main control, all the senior staff members were gathered there, including a number of technicians and Judicial forces personnel, the latter of which seemed to be itching to jump into action. Falorn gave them a particularly stern eye as he walked forwards to the centre to join the assembled Jedi before staring up at the display.
On the screen was a sleek and shadowy ship, so dark it was barely visible against the black of space, were it not for the slick beams of yellow and orange light that swam across its hull as it swept closer to the system's sun. While its body was smooth and aerodynamic, the nose of the ship and the heat sink fins at the rear came to such sharp points, that it seemed as though it could cut cleanly through the void of space itself.
"What is that?" Falorn asked the room, "Some kind of Yacht? It's not the Dromachians back again, is it?"
"Appears to be...Nubian?" Tal Omna, the Kel Dor padawan, observed through her protective metal goggles. "I've never seen one of their yachts modified like that before. Master, it's showing no signs of slowing down. Shall I raise them on comms?"
The cyborg-Human Orys answered, his mechanical baritone sounding ever more serious than its usual gruff bass. Behind the optical censors that replaced his scorched eyes, his features were wrinkling with concern. "Please do, Padawan Omna."
There was no reply to the station's hail on the other end aside from annoying white noise. Whoever was in the advancing ship either had a damaged comm system, or they had every intention to make the Jedi eat static on purpose. Tal wondered to what end that could be. An attack by a single ship of that size on the station would be suicide.
"Gunner Bryce," Orys then said, "obtain and confirm a full weapons lock, and prepare a preliminary examination of the vessel's offensive and defensive capabilities. I want a full readout of-" The Jedi Knight stopped, inclining his head at the Judicial soldier. "Gunner Bryce?"
At his console, Gunner Bryce was staring blankly at the monitor in front of him, his mouth slightly apart as though he were mesmerised by some terrible sight. His hands, having been working quite efficiently on the keypad below just moments before, were now trembling, hovering just a few centimetres away from the console. His eyes were beginning to redden and water with the strain of not blinking.
Orys was about to speak again, but he noticed that the blue-clad Xexto naval officer standing beside Bryce, Lieutenant Foro Tazalo, was also gripped by the same tremors. He was looking directly at Master Forlorn in that same unbroken gaze as Bryce, but his mouth was also opening and closing in some vain effort to speak, although Orys thought it looked more akin to a silent chant. The bulky Jedi also noticed that one of Tazalo's four shaking hands was beginning to slowly edge closer to the blaster holstered against his leg.
"Lieutenant Tazalo!" Orys barked, already unclasping his lightsaber as he marched towards the multi-limbed officer. "Foro! Stand down!"
Before Orys got any closer, the Half-Bothan Lameer jumped in, being slightly closer as he sensed the imminent muscle reflex of Tazalo to wrench out his blaster. In a fraction of a second, his lightsaber spun out and a sheet of golden-white light cut through the blaster as it was drawn out before the action could come to fruition.
The Lieutenant did not attempt to carry on any further attack, choosing instead to bring his now empty hands up and cradle his head. However, the chaos continued to spread among the crew members and, across the other side of the room, their Ugnaught technician Skreen had begun violently jamming his hydrospanner into the console in front of him and, after a few short stabs, managed to cause a violent discharge from the workstation, zapping Skreen and causing the main power to cut out across the station.
As emergency lighting came on, the assembled Jedi looked about them and saw that the entirety of their crew mates were afflicted by this violent frenzy, either preparing to attack or struggling to contain their rage. In the dim light, their shaking, jittery forms did not look like the friends and colleagues they knew but more like wild animals.
"The darkness!" came a fearful cry from Falorn, "It has come to claim Korriban! Shadows, now is the moment we have prepared for; Tal, as soon as the backup power kicks in, you must fire on that ship. Prevent them from reaching us at all costs. Orys, Lameer: secure the room as quickly as possible. The others have fallen to the darkness so neutralise them."
In answer, without saying a word to the venerable master, Orys' emerald blade hummed to life.
Falorn then turned his attention to the obsidian ship, now just sweeping into visual range, "We are the final guardians against the darkness. The horrors of the Sith shall remain dead, so long as I draw breath."
The vessel that sped towards the alerted space station had a sordid history: crafted around 20 standard years ago to the personal specifications of a prolific gangster within the Hutt Cartel, Varma Lozo, as a twisted take on the classic Nubian design she favoured, the ship had been unwillingly manufactured by Nubia Autostar after the Cartel seized a number of the company's assets, as well as one of their high profile designers. With its initial owner, the ship was host to a number of parties involving the mistreatment of slaves as well as other illicit activities but it did not take long for others to take a keen interest in the ship. Not a lot is known about how the cult of Axion came to acquire the ship, but Lozo was said to have simply given it away shortly before succumbing to a madness, which led to her removal from the Cartel.
The present occupants of the ship were a far cry from Cartel mobsters. Axion's chosen followers had gathered together for the assault against the Jedi who guarded this place and ultimately, to rid themselves of the traitors and enemies that had fled to the surface world below. Tolmin Voq sat in the pilot's seat while Nala took the co-pilot's chair. The pair watched as the lights flickered on the station: their powers had succeeded in seeding chaos in their midst.
With trailing ashen robes sweeping behind him, Kelderesh paced swiftly into the cockpit, "I sense their weakness now, Tolmin. You should unleash your charges while they are dazed."
Nala's brow furrowed in frustration, the deep-set headache gnawing into her skull with each unnecessary step the Kaleesh sorcerer took behind her seat. It did not help her patience that the majority of her sheer focus was being directed into the station's inhabitants, willing their feeble minds to crumble from afar.
"This is where the fun begins," Voq said with sadistic glee as he flipped a couple of safety switches on the overhead console above him which opened the forward torpedo bay doors and armed the warheads. "Firing...Tox-One!"
Built on a standard proton torpedo casing, the weapon surged out with the appearance of a blazing blue-white fireball towards a part of the station where the tactical computer had indicated the deck where the secondary auxiliary power core was housed. He knew the Republic had grown heavily dependent on GalactaWerks and its mass-produced designs, and the Jedi space station was no different. This included the vulnerability where their point-defense systems no longer drew from energy capacitors or batteries, but instead drew their power directly from the secondary power core. The intent the GW engineers had was to enhance the turbolasers' blasting yields, and to fire at longer ranges and more rapidly, but it had the flaw that if the core was disabled, there would be no way to divert power back to them in time without restoring the core itself, or shunting power from the primary core in an attempt to cold-restart the secondary without frying the systems.
Voq half-expected the station's turbolasers to blast his custom ion-torpedo in a single shot, but when it made contact unimpeded causing a massive burst of twinkling subatomic energy to erupt from the fire of the pierced hull, he didn't hesitate to follow up with the second shot.
"Tox-Two!" The second torpedo went straight for the shield generator whilst Voq shot the crew quarters levels with several short bursts from the forward blaster cannons to rattle the Jedi some. "Wakey, wakey...eggs and bakey little Jedi!" He chortled in an off-key sing-song voice as he helmed the cult ship for the nearest docking port.
The ship was still going very fast but Tolmin Voq’s adept piloting and precise use of the port thrusters had the ship swing around gracefully and dock with a pronounced clunk against the docking clamps. With the confirmation of successful coupling with the station, the assembled cultists were up and on their feet, pacing swiftly to the airlock.
Now joining them on their march was the albino Wookiee, who had kept to himself on the ship.
"Lord Mange," Nala purred sickly at the sight and smell of the hulking 'madclaw' and his matted off-white fur. "You arrive at an auspicious time. I trust your time away has not dulled your appetite for Jedi blood?"
Mange said nothing in response, his enormous frame heaving with each grunting breath, blazing red-pink eyes nestled beneath his shaggy brow.
"Enigmatic, as ever," Axion's chosen apprentice then said with a wave of her hand, now rising from her seat, the dark tresses of her leathery robes trailing beneath her arms, an almost ethereal image for the wily seductress. She placed a slender hand upon Mange's chest, a shocking gesture for any to behold. "So long as the strong and silent facade ends there, I do so look forward to seeing you in action once more."
“Let us swiftly put an end to these so-called guardians,” Kelderesh spoke up as he began to fill himself with the rage he would require for the task ahead, “They will not prevent us from reaching the planet.”
"My, my," Nala mocked, tone sultry and disdainful all at once, "you are impatient, necromancer. Surely a god should have the patience of stone?"
Internally, she wondered at the self-satisfied or ironic amusement the Master must take from Kelderesh's recruitment, as another would-be god in the midst of their dark clan, simpering at Axion's heels for some measure of power. Despite that, the Nautolan could not deny the obvious power of the Kaleesh - or the obvious threat.
With a confirmation ping verifying the pressure between the ship and the station, the hatch before them all hissed open and they continued onward but did not have far to walk before another barrier stood before them. Someone had unsurprisingly closed the interior access door to halt their progress. Most likely it was the person that now stood scowling at them through the view port.
With two circular metal discs seemingly welded into the figure's eye sockets, and an ill-fitting vocoder that appeared fused into the middle-aged Human's mouth and jaw, the lone Jedi Knight would have once presented as quite the imposing figure, built of dense muscle and stern, unyielding features. Even through the cybernetics that had replaced his eyes, it was clear the man was scowling at the array of cultists now before him. A single green plasma blade shone before him in a perfect Djem So posture, the brilliant blade casting an emerald glow over the Jedi's side of the transparent view port.
"Peace shall overcome emotion," came the cyborg's baritone voice over the active door intercom, his utter devotion to his task and his monastic order shining through the Force without any hint of frailty. "Knowledge shall conquer ignorance."
"Oh, hey! So nice to meet a fellow sparky!" Voq greeted the cybered-up Jedi after getting a good look at him. "It's gonna be a shame tearing up all those lovely spare parts."
“Your prayers will not save you, little broken man,” Kelderesh spoke, scraping a claw against the glass before tightening his hand into a fist, “Nor will this door.”
The Kaleesh probed the man’s mind, but the human was strong-willed enough that he could not simply crush him through the Force. Instead, he unhooked the lightsaber he had constructed since joining the cult, feeling the tanned leather he had chosen to improve the grip on the cold metal hilt; he did not often use the weapon but appreciated it as a valuable tool to balance his might in the Force. He ignited the vermilion-coloured blade of light and began plunging it through the door.
The metal was thick and resisted, causing drips of molten metal to spill out from the point of entry like a bleeding wound. It was slow work and, despite the damage it had already done, the latch held firm.
"Tsk, tsk, Kellie, m'boy," Voq mocked the Kaleesh sorcerer. "Stand back. GalactaWerks actually thought of that one. The ol' stabby action down the middle trick used to work, but times are a changin'. Luckily for us..." He dug into a belt pouch and produced a roll of a beige coloured tape that had the texture of putty. "...I brought some duct tape." As he walked past Kelderesh, he casually tossed a thermal detonator over his shoulder at his bone-masked comrade. "Be a chum and hang on to that for me, will ya?"
Kelderesh grimaced, looking at the detonator he had been thrown, but conceded that he was not making sufficient progress with his technique so withdrew his blade and stepped aside. Voq strolled past him and looked through the view port.
"Hey! Mister Jedi dude!" Voq called out, giving a quirky little wave and a wide toothy smile at the sole guardian. "We're soooo sorry for busting up your place. Tell you what, since I'm feeling generous, I'm just gonna tape up this here mess we caused. No hard feelings, yeah?" He donned a pair of heat-resistant gloves from another pocket and started pasting on a long strip of the tape along the edge of the breach line Kelderesh tore through. Halfway down, he stopped, removed a thin, rectangular red incendiary charge shaped like a candy bar from another belt compartment, taped it against the door, stabbed one end of the plyable bomb with a short metal tube, and then started taking several steps back away from it, motioning the others to do the same. He raised up his left arm in front of him at chest level, pressed down on the forearm to reveal a hidden control console under the skin and said, "All good? Fantastic! We'll be on our way then." He tapped the detonation key and watched with a pyromaniac's delight the blindingly bright corrosive blaze consuming the metal of the sealed door spreading out to form a wide gaping hole from where the charge had been big enough for even Mange to slip through. The tape was in fact Merr-Sonn military-issue thermal breaching tape which melted through a vertical line above and below the hole that was forming. In seconds, the entire compartment was filled with thick smoke and the heavy stench of molten industrial metal.
Voq then drew a small pistol at his side that resembled a wide-barrelled flare gun and fired a stun grenade round set for impact detonation through the new gap in the door. If the Jedi attempted to deflect or push it back with the Force, it was going to explode in his face. The Devaronian demolitions expert hoped the guardian didn't invest in ocular or auricular protection augments, otherwise he just wasted fifty credits on a single shot.
The grenade detonated, but the smoke made it impossible to tell whether it had the intended effect. Either way, the Jedi lived and he was the next roadblock in their path to taking this station down. Kelderesh leapt forwards and whirled the smoke away with a twist of one hand and then brought his lightsaber down towards where he sensed Orys was. He was met with the swift ignition of a deep blue lightsaber blade, which caught his blow and swept him aside. With his back exposed, the Kaleesh cultist countered with a shower of lightning that prevented the Jedi from immediately striking back at him and he whipped away, ready to attack again.
Now that the smoke had been swept away, they had a clear view of the cybernetic Jedi. He was tall and muscular, with a facial structure that would have been classically handsome before his disfiguring injuries. Had the discharge from Tolmin’s grenade or Kelderesh’s lightning caused some fault or injury, he was doing his best to maintain his composure.
“Your resistance is admirable,” Nektus grinned behind his bony mask, “But you will not best us. You would do best to flee or face your own inadequacy.”
Orys stared back from behind his own metal mask, his Djem So grip tightening in anticipation of the battle to come. "Serenity shall quell passion," he continued stoically, even as he was now faced with half a dozen lightsabers on the red spectrum blazing to life before. No fear escaped the Human's aura as he glared at the insurmountable villainy facing him. Instead, a deep-set resolve coursed through the man's very being, as well as a peculiar sense of vindication at the presence of the dark siders at Korriban, as if this moment had been expected - perhaps even anticipated.
The Jedi's back foot slid backwards across the floor slowly and his muscles tensed even tighter, the warrior of light poising himself for the first inevitable blow. "The Force shall save us from death!"
"That's what I love so much about you dopey hero types," Tolmin Voq said with a devious sneer as he plucked his lightsaber free from his belt and held it horizontally in front of him. "You're always ready to die." He ignited one scarlet-hued end of his dual-bladed saberstaff and then the other.
With that, the cultists descended on the lonesome Jedi, weaving their blades past his strong, but ultimately futile defences. It did not take long for Voq’s staff to slip through and pierce through the man’s side and, with his defences lowered, allow Kelderesh to unleash a crippling wave of Force energy directly at his chest, sending him hurtling back into the wall and collapsing to the ground, gasping for air.
The dark siders drew around him, ready to finish the job when another voice rang out down the hallway, “Orys!” came the voice of Lameer, who realised he had arrived far too late to defend his fellow shadow.
"No!" The fallen Knight wheezed to his comrade as he clunkily sought to rise up once more. Winded and injured as he was, Orys' voice was laboured and distorted as both his organs and cybernetic augmentations struggled to keep up with the damage he had endured. Blood seeped through his vocoder, and sharp rasping sounds were emitted interchangeably with crackling fizzes indicative of a fatal malfunction. "Go... Lameer! Seal the way!"
With those last words, Orys reached in vain for his weapon, but the Kaleesh cultist kicked their victim’s lightsaber away, and then proceeded to pick him up by his throat, digging his sharp talons into the human’s neck. He then pulled him forward and, in full view of Lameer, proceeded to unleash a torrent of electricity through his hand and directly into Orys’ skull, causing an immediate shorting out of his ocular implants and brain death mere moments later.
Once he had completed his execution, Nektus threw the newly-made corpse down the corridor towards Lameer, “Observe your future,” he announced, “Resist us if you will, but we will take this station and everyone within.”
The Half-Bothan did not move immediately, he simply glared down at the various humanoid races that had embraced the darkness and come on this day to reclaim their world of shadow. So very different in form and culture and yet the Dark side always had that same cruelness. He looked down at the fried remains of the man he had called friend, who, like himself, had sworn to defend the station against this evil. If there was any honour he could grant him after all those long nights of sabaac and companionship, it was to complete their mission aboard this station.
He gave a low growl of grief and anger before turning away and dashing with great speed down the corridor. There was still time to stop them getting any further. Even having lost all their non-Jedi crew and Orys, this station had been built for this one purpose and they had many hands left to play before the day was lost.
They Cult of Axion felt the rush of the kill. It was unbelievable, but there it was: the corpse of an actual Jedi. The thrill of the kill wasn't lost on a single cultist in that corridor. The dark side was with them, and it was powerful and full of homicidal ecstasy. If they acted swiftly, the Jedi wouldn't stand a chance.
TBC
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