Collateral
Posted on Sun Oct 25th, 2026 @ 12:34pm by Mentis & FA-1S & Bomoor Thort & Darth Serus
2,820 words; about a 14 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter IX: The First Verse
Location: Mid Levels, CEC Industrial Complex, Coronet, Corellia
Timeline: Evening (Local Time), Day Twenty-Two
The cultist's threat was accompanied by another tremendous growl as he twisted his weapon, attempting to wrench one of the opposing blades away from his centreline whilst bringing the other sweeping towards the Rattataki. He seemed almost indifferent to the distinction between the two opponents, regarding them as obstacles to be battered apart rather than individuals possessing different capabilities. The Togorian's enormous tail lashed behind him, striking a damaged wall panel hard enough to dislodge it, and his great paws ground broken fragments of the corridor's flooring beneath their weight.
Serus was conscious of the violence unfolding behind him, although he offered his companions no immediate assistance. Bomoor and Mentis were capable combatants. Their immediate difficulties were made considerably worse by the security personnel continuing to fire through the engagement, and it was those distractions which Serus intended to remove.
He closed his raised hand and the reinforcing framework beneath one of the remaining security positions contracted with a violent report, crushing several layers of flooring together and throwing the contractors sheltering behind a structural partition off their feet. An enormous section of overhead panelling tore away immediately afterwards, twisting in the air before crashing between the advancing security personnel and the struggling lightsaber combatants. Dust and pulverised material billowed across the passage, obscuring several lines of fire and forcing the surviving security to retreat.
It was no longer possible to mistake the confrontation for an ordinary security incident. The corporation's expensive administrative corridor had become a battlefield, its carefully maintained surfaces fractured beneath the exercise of powers its designers had never contemplated. Beyond the trembling windows, the immense industrial complex continued operating in fits and starts, enormous machines maintaining their appointed duties whilst blaster fire and emergency alarms spread through the levels above them. Serus could sense the agitation gathering beyond the immediate engagement, additional personnel converging upon the disturbance and the first uncertain movements of individuals whose intentions were considerably darker than those of the ordinary contractors now struggling to survive.
The security commander stared at the destruction surrounding him, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and mounting terror. He had been instructed to contain three unauthorised individuals. Instead, he found himself confronting a hooded figure capable of dismantling the corridor around him, whilst a monstrous creature wearing his corporation's insignia attempted to devour two strangers armed with the legendary weapons of the Jedi.
He raised his communicator again, shouting for the requested forcefield barriers to be activated before the intruders could escape into the adjoining sectors.
The sharp teeth of his opponent flew towards Bomoor’s chest with the intensity that would have sent an unprepared combatant into a fearful paralysis. Yet, the Ithorian had seen this darkness, this ferocity, and saw only a crazed mortal.
Knowing his space in the corridor alongside Mentis, Bomoor withdrew just a hair to the side and brought his weapon into a vertical guard across the length of his chest and, as expected, the Togorian's weapon slid to match it. Both opponents clearly feeling the currents of the Force to anticipate and correct, even frenzied though the feline cultist was.
As he had hoped, the silvery-blue blade of Mentis' lightsaber flashed towards the cultist's exposed right flank, forcing him to commit fully against Bomoor's guard. The Togorian’s sunken eyes stared at Bomoor a moment underlined by the toothy, menacing grin below them. The Ithorian felt a moment of rising emotion as the smug enjoyment of the violent din surrounding them, paired with the double bladed crimson saber, gave him unpleasant recollections of Tolmin Voq and that dark day on Öetrago.
His grip tightened with his left hand, not giving any ground as he pushed back against the tremendous power in the man’s arms, with Mentis’ aid. With his other hand, he jerked it free and followed Serus’ lead in sweeping whatever hazardous objects he could grasp towards the Togorian. Broken fixtures tore free from the walls. Shards of durasteel screamed through the air. An entire section of decorative panelling buckled loose from its mounting and joined the barrage. The passage itself seemed to come apart around the charging cultist as everything Bomoor could grasp hurled itself towards him.
The Togorian's grin widened impossibly further as a section of durasteel struck his shoulder hard enough to break most organic bones. Yet, he answered with laughter and pressed further. Another piece caught him across the jaw and the beast simply spat blood onto the floor and charged on.
Now Bomoor answered with a deepening of that anger, pulling something visceral from inside him, to answer madness with strength. He stamped forwards with a large foot, cracking the upper layer of the corridor and shuddering the whole wing. As he did so, he swung closer towards the saber hold, now feeling the burning plasma of the saberstaff inches from his creased skin.
Beside him, Mentis did not know how to react as Bomoor suddenly took over the guard entirely and he spun away and paused in a ready stance for what came next.
The Togorian saw only an advantage. With Mentis no longer pressing his flank, he threw his full weight into the clash, the elongated weapon driving forwards in an attempt to overwhelm the Ithorian through sheer strength.
Bomoor gave him that moment - with one foot still rooted forwards, he swung the other one back, so his body was now sidestepping the entire exchange. With all the focus being on the sudden advance, the fact that the Ithorian could suddenly let it all go in an instant was not even a consideration for his opponent; with the resistance gone, the cultist lurched forwards as his own momentum carried him into empty space.
In synchrony with the sudden imbalance, Bomoor launched an open palm forward, almost physically connecting with the now-torn CEC security uniform the cultist still wore. An intense concussive blast bridged the gap and condemned the bestial man to his path to the ground.
For the first time, his grin vanished as his long digitigrade legs slipped out from under him and he was driven several metres along the fine-threaded carpet, slowing just before Mentis’ feet. Yet even then the beast did not stay down. One clawed hand slammed into the floor and the crimson saberstaff spun once and came up with him.
His yellowed eyes settled upon the Rattataki. The grin was gone now: blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and the expression that replaced it was far worse:
Recognition.
Then, with an animal snarl, he launched himself not at Bomoor but towards Mentis. Eyes wide, yet retaining his controlled form, the pale-skinned man held his form as the heavy crimson blows came at him.
“I will have your life, traitor,” he snarled, spinning the staff before one clash then releasing it to drive at another point in Mentis’ line of defence, “Axion will bless me, even in death for ending your existence!”
From across the corridor, Bomoor could see the defiant resilience Mentis’ form showed - closest resembling a Niman guard as it attempted to match the dual ended attack of the saberstaff upon his lone self. The Rattataki’s eyes dropped from their initial wide reaction to a firm, focussed scowl set upon the cultist. His former fear was refined into a frustration, tempering his moves while remaining mindful of his opponent’s flourishes.
“Axion will never have me again!” he hissed, suddenly sweeping his guard up and catching the Togorian’s downward swipe at a high point, “He will lose everything – including you!”
The cultist answered with a furious roar and drove forwards with renewed ferocity, both hands tightening upon the staff as he sought to simply batter his smaller opponent aside.
Mentis did not retreat, instead dropping down. The movement was sudden enough that even Bomoor momentarily lost sight of him beneath the spinning ring of crimson plasma. The Rattataki sank low upon one knee and twisted beneath the attack, allowing the descending blade to pass harmlessly above his shoulder.
There, the Togorian overshot again, just as Mentis had watched Bomoor manufacture just moments earlier. Yet, Mentis reacted not with the Force but with a quick blade. Rising from the crouch, Mentis did not attempt to turn and meet the next strike. Instead, extending his arm outwards in a single motion, sweeping his sharp blue blade into the very centre of the saberstaff as the cultist attempted to straighten again.
Crimson light faltered immediately, but Mentis cut onward, through the uniform, into mottled purple fur and flesh, carving across the beast’s exposed flank and into the vital organs beneath. This time, the Togorian’s eyes widened and a stifled growl escaped from him as he felt the weight of the blow on his body. He stumbled, clawing out for support but finding none as his broken, divided weapon dropped down to the floor, now fully devoid of its burning power.
Now turning to look, Mentis kept his blade above the collapsing warrior as he sunk down to the ground. Still under heavy eyes, Mentis uttered, “You are free from him now.”
The Togorian remained upon his knees for several moments, his enormous frame trembling beneath the effort of keeping himself upright. One hand pressed against the dreadful wound beneath his ribs. His other hand remained planted against the floor, claws driven deep as his laboured breathing deteriorated. He raised his head towards the Rattataki, eyes narrowing. There was disbelief in his expression.
"Free?" He rasped, the word emerging through a bubbling accumulation of blood and saliva. A hideous, broken chuckle followed, provoking a convulsion which nearly toppled him forwards. "You... have forsaken... eternity."
His enormous head lowered, although he retained sufficient strength to regard Mentis with something approaching contempt. For all his brutality, the conviction beneath his words appeared genuine.
"He will... remember..."
The final declaration dissolved into an unintelligible hiss, his great chest expanding once more before the breath escaped in a prolonged, shuddering exhalation. For several seconds the Togorian remained suspended upon his outstretched arm, his claws still embedded within the flooring, before the last of his strength deserted him and his massive body collapsed sideways.
By the time the Togorian fell, Darth Serus had reduced the remaining security personnel to a considerably less formidable concern. Several lay amongst the shattered remnants of their defensive positions, whilst others had abandoned the attempt to engage him directly and retreated towards the adjoining junctions. Their commander, however, had persisted in his efforts to establish a forcefield cordon across the passage, apparently convinced that the corporation's internal security arrangements might succeed where conventional weapons had failed. A succession of urgent instructions had been transmitted towards the nearest control station, prompting several recessed emitters along the corridor to illuminate as their power supplies were brought online. Serus regarded the development with a certain interest, his organic eye following the narrow bands of light as they began gathering between the reinforced supports.
He extended both hands towards the adjoining architecture, allowing his awareness to settle upon the substantial framework concealed beneath the corridor's decorative surfaces. The transparisteel windows and polished panelling had given the impression of a conventional executive passage, but their apparent solidity was deceptive. The administrative levels occupied an immense arrangement of elevated platforms and enclosed galleries suspended around the industrial complex, their floors supported by reinforced struts and pillard which carried power around the facility. Serus could perceive the distribution of those supports through the Force, distinguishing the enormous underlying framework from the comparatively insubstantial fittings through which CEC had attempted to render its working infrastructure suitable for the sensibilities of its senior employees.
He had no particular desire to destroy the route upon which he and his companions stood, but neither was he inclined to permit the corporation's mundane security forces to dictate their movements.
The floor lurched violently, throwing several remaining contractors from their feet as a succession of fractures spread through the polished surface. Reinforced panels tore free from their mountings, exposing a confused arrangement of conduits. The forcefield emitters flickered as their alignment weakened, one managing to project a narrow, unstable barrier for a fraction of a second before its power connection was severed.
The commander had barely begun retreating when the entire section of corridor ahead of him collapsed. Serus drew one hand sharply backwards, pulling an enormous portion of the elevated structure away from its supporting framework and allowing gravity to complete what the Force had begun. Several feet of flooring disappeared beneath a storm of fractured metal and shattered windows, carrying the remains into the industrial spaces below. A tremendous cloud of dust and pulverised material billowed upwards through the newly opened space, accompanied by the distant, successive impacts of debris striking machinery and construction platforms far beneath them.
The security personnel who had survived the initial upheaval scrambled desperately towards stable ground, their weapons forgotten as they sought to escape the disintegration of the passage beneath their feet.
What remained was scarcely recognisable as the elegant administrative corridor through which the trio had been travelling. The breach had opened a substantial chasm between their present position and the continuation of the passage beyond, exposing the enormous industrial volume which the corporation's architects had laboured to conceal behind its expensive furnishings and carefully maintained environmental systems. Where there had previously been polished walls, subdued lighting and discreet corporate displays, there was now an unobstructed view into the immense engineering bays surrounding the elevated offices. Several under construction freighters occupied vast spaces, their skeletal frameworks emerging from incomplete plating whilst scores of industrial welders continued their assigned operations beneath showers of brilliant sparks.
Fragments of the ruined corridor continued falling into the depths, striking the upper surfaces of the construction bays with tremendous force before scattering across machinery and abandoned workstations. One substantial section of reinforced flooring crashed through the temporary decking surrounding a partially completed freighter, sending workers fleeing from the adjoining platforms as alarms sounded throughout the affected manufacturing sector. Several automated systems halted immediately, their safety protocols recognising the sudden intrusion of debris. Others continued functioning, apparently indifferent to the destruction taking place around them.
Serus approached the fractured edge of the passage, the cloak worn around his indiscriminate corporate attire stirring in the warm currents rising from the exposed manufacturing halls. The quiet sounds of the shifting pressure of his respirator was almost lost amidst the other sounds, especially following the descent of another piece of decorative panelling crashing below. The corridor had been little more than an enclosed bridge, suspended high above the very machinery which its occupants had been encouraged to forget existed.
Beyond the chasm, the surviving section of the administrative passage remained visible, its lights flickering irregularly. A secure stairwell and lift entrance could be discerned farther along, separated from them by the gap and the twisted remnants of the supporting structure. The intended route towards the executive levels remained tantalisingly close.
Serus looked back to his companions.
"I believe we have resolved the issue of the forcefield," Serus remarked. "The corridor, unfortunately, was less cooperative. Still, the route remains perfectly serviceable - provided neither of you has developed a fear of heights."
Bomoor and Mentis joined Serus on the edge of the remaining corridor bridge. The sound of disorder now rising to meet them from the streets surrounding the CEC complex, joined with the unceasing drone of work continuing in the industrial workyards below them.
"Mentis is proving to have conquered his fears of facing his former cultists," the Ithorian chimed approvingly, not looking at his unsworn acolyte, but conveying his approval in his words, "After that, I imagine a bit of a balancing act at height will be no problem for him."
Beside him, Mentis chest rose slowly, eyes flicking back briefly to the now unmoving mass of purple fur and muscle.
"No," he confirmed, "Let's continue."
His gaze then rose across to the far side of the walkway, where the corridor resumed properly.
"Faze?" he asked, tapping his ear and confirming the earpiece was back in place.
"ACKNOWLEDGEMENT," the droid immediately answered, clearly unbothered by the long pause in communication while the recent conflict occurred.
"We're continuing on to Orwole's office." Mentis continued, "Security is now aware of our presence, as are the cultists."
"CONFIRMATION: The communication data I have intercepted would confirm that," the FA-series unit's voice pinged back, "CALCULATION: This will be relayed to Reave so he may continue running interference, although I believe he has also engaged the cult on the lower levels. I am trying to raise him again presently."
There was no doubt in their minds now that this place was a key sanctuary for the cult. Whoever this Orwole Sal-Varrin was, he sat at the heart of Axion's plan to bolster his follower's strength. They were about to terminate his position.
TBC
MENTIS
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