Massing Shadows
Posted on Sat Jan 28th, 2023 @ 7:41pm by Damask Hul & Rynseh Lahan & Jela Valla
2,443 words; about a 12 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Coruscant, Third Galactic Republic
Timeline: Concurrent with "The Battle of the Masserix Belt"
The birth of another dawn washed over the vast planetwide megalopolis of Coruscant and its formidable, yet austere occupant, the Reborn Jedi Temple. The budding early morning light slipped through the partially open slats of the wooden window blinds of Master Rynseh Lahan's modest personal quarters. Ever an early riser, Ryn was seated at the edge of his bed in, hunched forward in stillness and silence, face in his palms.
"Fair morning, Master Lahan," chimed in an automated droid vocal reminder from the comm unit placed on small round wooden stand next to his bed. "Your priority appointment is set to begin in exactly one hour. Weather conditions remain normal. There is no scheduled precipitation today."
Ryn lifted his face from his palms and saw blood smeared on them. A deep low rumbling of frustration and fatigue stirred within his vocal cords as he rose to his feet and proceeded to his personal lavatory. In the mirror, he saw partially dry streaks of blood-tinged tears stream from his burning eyes. He scowled at his reflected image as he noted serosanguinous fluid weeping from his skin grafts on his forehead and cheeks. Looking down at his bare torso, he spotted several more weeping breakouts on his body.
Looking back at his face again, his thoughts became embattled by the clashing of lightsabers on Korriban again. Every strike, deflect, hurling of mighty Force powers in an epic struggle to survive the onslaught of Axion's dark cultists. Then his mind wandered back to the nightmares he'd been having since that fateful day. His daughter's voice screaming out to him.
"Father...please...help me!" he could Rusasha screaming out to him right before a scarlet red lightsaber plunged clean through her back and out her chest, only to see his younger self as the murderer looking back at him with disgust.
Ryn's reflection became a hateful sneer and the portion of the mirror showing his face shattered spontaneously leaving the rest of the glass intact. He hunched over the sink, breathing heavily, the toll of his burdens pushing him ever so closely to the edge.
Rynseh was almost a perfect statue on the brief shuttle flight to his private stronghold away from the Jedi Temple, not far from the Republic Senate building and the Chancellor's Office. The building was originally an office tower with an extensive penthouse suit complete with its own competition-sized pool, spacious dining hall, and flight deck, but it was since repurposed in secret to prepare the fiercest Waayist zealots of the Reborn Order for a bolder, more militant quest to rid the galaxy of darkness once and for all.
Now clean with his long implanted blonde hair shining and perfectly groomed, he marched sternly towards the main communications chamber, twin columns of honor guards standing at attention on either side of the connection hallway, each bowing their head to him in perfect sync as he passed by them. Lightsaber at his side, he wore a new polished grey combat armor suit under freshly woven red and brown Jedi robes. The left shoulder pauldron was emblazoned with the round golden symbol of the Reborn Jedi Order. It was a most welcome surprise for every Jedi in the building to see their leader dressed immaculately for war. The mere sight of Ryn passing by lifted each of their hearts with great hope and confidence. They each believed that they were not merely becoming great warriors of the light, but that they were the future for all Jedi yet to come.
Raum, a young male Kel-Dor Jedi Knight, approached Ryn from a side-room in the corridor and walked alongside him into the communications center.
"Results?" Ryn asked without regarding the Knight with his eyes.
"Suboptimal," Raum replied with his gravelly voice through his breathing mask. "Our first two runs of the Korriban simulation resulted in total Jedi loss. The third run, we barely prevailed, but I was the sole survivor and the computer stated I would have succumbed to my wounds after the battle."
"Suboptimal indeed," Ryn disdainfully with a subdued sigh as they stopped in front of the large holoprojector. "At least we know the cultists can be stopped, but any loss of life for us is unacceptable. Do you suggest I change the parameters? Perhaps ease up on their aggression?"
"Not at all, master," Raum shook his head vigorously. "If anything, the difficulty should be increased. The corrupted Wookie should be added to the opposition."
"As you recall from my debrief, I did not fight that beast," Rynseh reminded his protege. "If I did not escape on the Descent when I did, we would likely not be having this conversation."
"But master, surely you would have succeeded regardless?"
"No, Raum. Battlemaster though I may be, I was on deadly ground that day. The potential of the Force is limitless, but its users are not. There is a time for war, and there is a time to fall back, heal, and learn. We know what most of the primary cultists can do and we can prepare for that."
"We sadly have no data on their leader," Raum lamented. "When the day comes for us to fight him--"
"Observe the patterns of his lackeys," Rynseh cut in to provide a teachable moment for his pupil. "They are only what he allows them to be. Know them, and you will know him. Each cultist represents a specialized distillation of what their leader can do. Understand that they are not true Sith, but merely pretenders abusing the use of powers they barely comprehend. They may appear to fight competently, but even surrounded by the lingering dark energies of Korriban, they were extraordinarily sloppy. They at first saw me as easy prey, approached with arrogance and tried toying with me, but when I showed them no fear and threw the Nautolan aside with ease, they tensed and fell to attrition. They intended to delay me in hopes of the Wookie joining in to overwhelm me. Their entire strategy revolved around that beast which is an interesting vulnerability we can exploit."
"So it became less of a brawl and more of a chess game," Raum attempted to deduce.
"More like a hand of pazaak, my friend," Ryn said with a slight chuckle, placing a paw on Raum's shoulder. "They didn't expect a heavily armed ship to swoop in and ruin their little party. Now, back to the simulation. Not one Jedi must fall. Understood?"
"Yes, master," Raum nodded and headed off to return to his practice. "We will not fail you."
"We are establishing a secure connection now, Master Lahan," a padawan manning the comm console reported.
"Very well," Ryn noted. "Let's get this over with."
Back in the political centre of the Coruscant ecumenopolis, another transmission was being made, albeit from numerous sources and listening posts, scattered close to the Imperial border, some officially-listed and some not.
With windows set to their tinted mode, Damask Hul leaned into his holoprojector, where the familiar Twi'lek face of Agent Valla had recently re-appeared. A subtle blue light highlighted the shallow creases in his leathery blue skin and made his red eyes appear black. The connection was, once again, quite degraded, but with a shorter delay than their previous communication as Hul had managed to acquire access to a more favourable HoloNet relay, hiding the message underneath regular broadcast chatter.
"I take it the conflict has begun," Hul announced, not waiting for a confirmation, "An Enterprise-class star destroyer was diverted from nearby Muunilinst and reported heading towards the southern border of Bastion space. Meanwhile, reports of a power struggle breaking out on practically all Bastion-controlled colonies: some in favour of the old Moff Tarses and others for Anthark. Your reports were certainly accurate in their predictions; well done. Now, have you been able to continue tracking our wayward Jedi in all this chaos?"
Unlike her usual presentation in their previous communications, the holographic portrayal of Agent Vall betrayed her sitting position. Lithe fingers ran across an unseen control panel that the display had not interpreted for the extreme-distance contact, and her eyes, despite the poor quality of the transmission making precise details difficult to discern, barely shifted focus from her tasks to that of Speaker Hul.
"Apologies, sir," she opened, the frenetic movement of her limbs a remarkable contrast to her controlled facade. She briefly looked to whatever representation passed for Hul on her side of the transmission before throwing a hand to the opposite side, another unseen adjustment being made. "The opposing factions have been brought into conflict by the gravitational forces of a large astero- BFZZT"
Heavy interference punctuated Valla's point. The transmission briefly failed but was promptly restored, and the Twi'lek's features were restored, this time with greater definition. "The mass shadows have interfered with both hyperspace deployment and certain lines of communication. My reports and the data you have received are accurate; Bastion forces have engaged one another throughout Imperial space. As predicted, the Red Raptor crew's new-found allegiance to the Grand Moff has prompted a live-fire conflict. They have entered the war aboard Grand Moff Tarses' flagship but are outnumbered two-to-one in this asteroid field."
There was another slight shimmer to the communication and Valla could be seen to make a few additional adjustments within the cockpit, all the while piloting her discreet vessel ably. "I am afraid I was unable to make contact with Citizens Thort or Thane, or any of their crew, prior to this conflict occurring ahead of my original expectations." She locked her steely gaze, albeit pixelated and stained a holographic blue, on the depiction of Hul she could see. "The mass shadows and the stealth technology continue to shield my vessel. I have positioned myself at the periphery of the conflict and am recording as much data as possible regarding GalactaWerks' involvement. Unfortunately, I do not predict a means for our citizens to succeed. Most Imperial fleets are deployed across Bastion space and unable, or unwilling, to rally to support either faction."
Hul allowed a frown of disappointment to infect his visage, although the detail would likely have been lost in transmission to his contact, "I trust your assessment of the situation, Agent, and you can be certain I have alternative measures ready to deploy should we find ourselves dealing with a victory by the renegade Moff Anthark. That will, of course, include a safe means of extraction for yourself should it be necessary."
His gaze shifted across the room, falling upon the glistening golden badge in the arrow-like shape of the TRIO emblem, which sat in a glass frame alongside a certificate of commendation for his time in the agency. The commendation had served as a grim reminder of the circumstances of his resignation from TRIO, after the failed mission to Balmorra and what he thought was the death of his valued partner, Rynseh Lahan. Having only recently come to terms with the fact that that same Jedi Master had stepped back into his office after all these years, just as bold and confident as ever, that memento now took on a somewhat different meaning. It reminded him never to take anything at face value, even in spite of the facts as they appeared and, perhaps more importantly, never to underestimate a determined Jedi.
"That being said," he continued, keeping his dark gaze upon the commendation, "In spite of your precarious situation, I would ask that you attempt to remain at your location and observe the proceedings. Should Moff Tarses and his allies secure a victory, it will be vital that we open a dialogue with Citizens Thane and Thort at the earliest opportunity to remind them that they still have allies within the Republic who are interested in their unique talents for diplomacy."
A rare glimmer of concern creased the obfuscated image of Hul's prized agent. It was unclear where this brief break in her veneer was born from worry at approaching either Thort and Thane, or whether her presence as a Republic agent in the heart of Bastion space plagued her. Regardless, it was a mere glimmer in the facade, and she took a moment to gaze into her holoprojector and nod to her superior.
"Yes, sir,," Valla said, the Twi'lek's tone clipped. Without confirming that there would be any sort of future meeting - an implied betrayal of her belief of the projected outcome and her own survivability - she added, "TRIO software continues to record both overtly and on the internal black box. I will maintain this secure connection."
If the worst were to befall Agent Valla, this, of course, meant some element of the Imperial civil war's crescendo in the Masserix Belt would be preserved for Speaker Hul to pore over in the coming days, as the so-called black box continued to maintain shifting but largely consistent connections to HoloNet relays dotted across known space.
"Agent Valla, signing off."
The screen flickered and the Twi'lek's pale red face faded from view, being replaced by the random static that came as a side effect of piggy-backing the call on a channel such as this. Damask leaned in and manually cut off the feed before adjusting the dial back to its conventional settings, which was now an unconscious task for the former agent. He had very hastily patched through that call, knowing he was soon due to receive another from the very same old colleague he had been pondering moments ago: Jedi Master Lahan.
Of course, Rynseh had been the one to initially set the Vice Chancellor on the road towards shadowing former knights Thane and Bomoor, while making enquiries of his own into the supposedly fallen Jedi. However, he had not revealed his own investigations to the Cathar thus far and intended to keep it that way. While Rynseh had formerly counted among Hul's closest confidents, he was not the same man that he had worked alongside all those years ago in Twilight Company. Even before his supposed death, Hul sensed his priorities had changed; caring more about routing out crazed mystics than protecting the Republic he had once fought so passionately for.
As he allowed his mind to wander, the Duros was thrust back to the present as the scheduled call came in. He took a breath and pressed the button to accept.
"Good morning, Master Lahan," Hul offered a courteous smile, "I was so pleased when I heard you scheduled this call. How have you been since we last got re-acquainted?"
TBC
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