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Stirrings and Strife

Posted on Wed Dec 9th, 2020 @ 8:45pm by Mentis & Sev Rezer & Amare & Kalen "Rex" Vickers
Edited on on Wed Dec 9th, 2020 @ 9:52pm

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Medical Facility, Bastion (Alternate Floor from Thane and Bomoor)
Timeline: Day Two, Week Four (In the hours after "Revival and Reconnaissance")

ON:

Four blaster carbines and one pistol scanned the darkened laboratory for signs of their missing quarry. The owner of the blaster pistol, a stocky young woman of short cropped fiery red hair wearing a black military uniform with a gas rebreather over her mouth gestured silent signals to her men clad in alloy white armor. At her command, the four battle-ready troopers split even in two pairs to swiftly clear both sides of the vaulted-ceiling lab whilst she cautiously searched all around with a high-lumen light beacon built into her weapon along with a green targeting laser sight. The woman’s eyes were cybernetically augmented, and she was receiving real-time targeting feedback relayed wirelessly from the targeting computer built into the pistol to a holographic heads-up display that only she could see. If she found her target, chances were that she could blast it between the eyes at up to 30 meters away with near-pinpoint accuracy.

“Lieutenant, we found Dr. Lamelle!” one of the troopers called out. The officer went over to examine the bearded middle-aged scientist that was one of Bastion’s best and brightest scientific minds notable for his work in xenobiology but had a sterling reputation for being an effective do-it-all polymath.

“He’s alive,” the young officer confirmed upon briefly checking for the man’s pulse.

“Located the assistant near the C.U., sir,” the other half of the squad reported over the comm from across the spacious lab, the C.U. short for containment unit. “She’s expired.”

“Continue the sweep,” the female officer ordered as she moved towards the now empty C.U. where there were no signs of a breakout.

During the search, one of the men hesitated, “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” his armored comrade asked with sudden nervous concern.

“Maybe it’s these new helmets, but I could’ve sworn I just heard my dead mom call out to me. She said my name too. I swear it.”

“I think you’re losing it, buddy,” said the other trooper. “Told you pulling double shifts will make your screws go loose.”

“Wow, you’re right. I definitely need some leave time. I think I earned it.”

“Look, let’s just focus and get this over with. My little boy’s got a recital in two hours. I’m more afraid of what the missus will do if I’m late than another one of Lamelle’s stupid lab experiments.”

Upon closer examination of the C.U. and its control computer by the lieutenant, it seemed almost as if the subject had been voluntarily freed by someone in the lab. She concluded that that was why there were no containment breach alarms, and that security was not alerted until someone pressed one of the secret alarm buttons under the lab benches. A few moments passed as everything was covered by the troopers including storage containers large enough to fit most human-sized sapients. Nothing turned up that which they were searching for.

“All clear!” the men reported.

“Keep your weapons at the ready,” the woman sternly ordered with a heavy glare which hid the deep dread pumping through her veins. “There’s something not right about this.” She brought her right wrist close to her lips and spoke into the commlink band she wore. “Central, this is Besh-Six. We've cleared Bio Lab Two, but the subject is not present. The C.U. is empty. Doctor Lamelle is stable but needs medical attention. His assistant is dead. Have you restored the image recorders to this room yet?”

“No, lieutenant,” an operator at Bastion Central Security replied. “The recorders are completely shot. The subject spotted them and took them down with what looked like small electric bolts from its hands.”

“Wait…did he say electric bolts?!” one of the troopers asked in horror, discombobulated at the report of something that should have been impossible, unless the target was augmented with a weapon to perform such a feat, but there was no augmentation noted when it was brought to Bastion.

“Pipe down, trooper!” the officer snapped at the armored man who spoke out of turn. “Central, can you confirm that it left this room before our arrival, or while we were here?”

“It never departed the lab,” Central confirmed. “Security is online in the adjacent corridor. It’s still in there.”

The lieutenant didn’t hesitate for a second as she shouted to her men, “Douse your lights! Switch to optics! We’re dealing with a shapeshifter or something with natural camoufl—ahh!!”

Her words were cutoff and replaced with a yelp of pain as she was instantly thrown off her feet, flying several meters until her back slammed hard against the wall behind her. She fell face-first to the floor in a winded heap.

"There it is!" shouted one of the troopers. "Blast 'em!"

Barely able to keep herself from slipping into unconsciousness, the officer began to hear heavy blaster fire in front of her, and the shriek of a nearby female creature's voice screaming her thirst for murder. There was the distinctive sound of something energy-based ignited and humming loudly followed by the warbles of metal alloys being viciously torn open with ease. Blood-curdling cries of pain were then heard coupled with armor suits contacting the floor nearby. The reports from the barrels of four blaster carbines quickly became two, then one, and then…silence. The distinct scents of burnt metal and charred flesh started to waft into the air.

The young battered and dazed officer could see her high-tech pistol in front of her, just barely out of reach. She desperately reached out with a quivering right hand as she tried with all her might with her left hand and legs to push herself enough to give her the few inches she needed to retake the weapon. Just as she was an inch short of her goal, fingertips brushing the textured grip, a pair of bare blue feet came into view, the footfalls almost completely devoid of any perceptible sound. The lieutenant then saw the pistol shaking slightly on its own and then spontaneously leaped up into the air. Adrenaline had given her just enough strength for her artificial eyes to scan up the smooth mottled humanoid legs belonging to a completely nude female creature with a head sprouting tentacles that was looking down at the officer stone-faced with the pistol in her left hand, and a strange silvery cylindrical object in the other. The cylinder shrieked to life bearing a short suspended beam emitting intense green and white light. With a quick swipe, the diminutive energy blade slashed the pistol in half with extreme ease, the two parts allowed to fall in front of the lieutenant’s face. Tears began to stream from the red-haired woman’s face as all hope was gone in the blink of an eye.

“N-no…no…” she sobbed as she lost the will to fight, all the years of training and the façade of authority she was taught to put on when wearing the uniform had evaporated. She became as vulnerable and fearful as a child when placed at the mercy of a stranger that overpowered a seasoned team of security personnel.

The blue she-beast knelt in front of the officer and placed a hand on her head, softly stroking the scalp shrouded in silky smooth strands of crisp crimson and orange as if she were comforting a pet.

“Shhh…” the femme fatale shushed soothingly. “Be calm, human,” she gently whispered. “Your late father, the one called…Innis…he misses you very much. I will send you to him. But first, there is a hunger I must quench. Hold…very…still…”

The corner of the lab they were in started to ghoulishly illuminated with flickering blood-red and orange light emitted by the blue female’s petting hand. As life essence drained from the uniformed woman, the blue one’s lips creased from a flat expressionless display to spread out in a wide toothy smile filled with maliciousness and inhuman delight.

All the while, Central had been hearing the whole thing play out on their end. The vital signs monitor on the operator’s screen showed the lieutenant and her entire squad had flatlined.

“Cut the link,” the captain of the watch ordered the operator. “Set to condition level: Black. Full lockdown of the complex. No one in or out.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the operator obeyed and pressed a series of buttons to carry out the order.

“Alert the Council of Moffs,” the captain added. “We’re not dealing with an ordinary alien here. Probably one of those blasted Jedi.”

“Jedi, sir?” the operator questioned, the very notion being unthinkable as there hadn’t been an attempted Jedi incursion of Bastion in a very long time.

“Follow my orders!” the captain shouted, knowing his career was on the line if his people failed to secure the containment breach without further loss of life.

“And you will follow my orders, captain,” came another voice from behind that every living person on all of Bastion was entirely familiar with.

The captain turned around and saw the projected holographic blue and white image of an elderly man in uniform that had never spoken to him or anyone in Central Security directly in many months.

“Grand Moff Tarses? Sir?” the captain sharply went to attention, his spine almost as stiff as a wooden board. Everyone in Central immediately stiffened up, acting more professional and uptight than they had in a long time.

“I am personally assuming overwatch of this…incident,” Tarses announced, hands casually at rest behind his back, standing tall with decades of practiced military posture. “Belay the order with the Moffs for now; I will brief them in due time. Now, captain, keep the alarms silent and listen to me carefully…”



Upon a medical bench, under a set of bright surgical lights, a pair of mis-matched eyes shot open, dazed and confused by their long slumber. With a convulsion, the pale humanoid wrenched an arm across to a figure standing over him, wearing a medical mask, who quickly withdrew from his field of view with surprise. The Rattataki man rolled off the table and feel with a smack against the cold floor, bringing a surgical tray down with him.

In the tray, he caught a glimpse of himself: Mentis saw the left side of his face dotted with strange black stitches across the length of his long scar. Someone had been trying to operate on him but who and where. He had yet to figure that out or remember their mission. All he had in his head was that angry cry that had awoken him.

Knocking the tray away, he stumbled to his feet to face the man who had been standing over him. His face was still obscured but there was a fear in his mannerism; clearly, he had not expected his subject to suddenly awaken and roll off the bench.

“Hold on there,” came his refined, but jittery human voice, “Don’t come any closer. Let me explain…”

Mentis did not reply, but took another heavy step, still feeling a weight upon him from his comatose state. He could not summon any words, but his eyes peered around the room until they fell upon another bed behind the surgeon containing a familiar individual.

“Rex…” the Rattataki managed to utter the name, before turning a furious gaze upon the masked man once again, “What… did you do?”

“I… uh…” the man briefly looked over his shoulder at Rex, “Nothing. You were all comatose when you arrived. We were just trying to…”

Before he could finish, Mentis’ hand was already wrenching at the air before him, grasping the surgeon’s throat with the Force and lifting him slightly off the tiled floor. The man’s hands desperately reached to his neck, but found no fingers to remove from his windpipe. With a furious wave downwards, Mentis threw the man down, cracking his head and the tiles below with the impact.

Hobbling over, he looked down at the dark-skinned man, who’s lips were frightfully pale as he lay, hooked up to a monitor that registered only a faint heartbeat. The Rattataki began to remember more; that holographic droid had given him a medicine to administer to undo the induced coma state. Desperately, he looked around for his items, as he had been stripped down to only his undergarments. There, on a far table beside another bed, he spied an assortment of clothes and pouches. He hurried over and retrieved the stimpak containing the medicine and quickly brought it to Rex and infused it into his neck tissue.

Even before the monitor began to register a change, Mentis sensed the consciousness beginning to return to the man and the colour slowly seeped back into his face as the medication reached the heart and was shot around to all the cells in his body.

"No more... no more juri juice..." Rex muttered with a dry voice, his cracked lips struggling to form the confused words. His eyes did not open immediately, but instead his whole face contorted with a wince, struggling against the discomfort of the prolonged near-death experience his body had undergone.

A heavy grown reverberated from his chest as he began to scrunch himself up on the biobed, twisting into a lazy foetal position, his hand being used to hide his face from the brightness of the overhead lighting, which managed to be as sterile as the rest of the clinical chamber.

"Not today, Pa," the Human grumbled again, although it was not quite clear if he was delirious or making a very Rex-like joke. "Krayt dragon done ate the school and Jawas drank up all the blue milk, anyway." He waved a dismissive hand at Mentis, clearly oblivious to the body lying near to them. "I'll sleep it off."

The sound of a laser carabine getting to full power softly arrived at Mentis' ears. "Step. the. kriff. away. from. him.", Sev's voice came hard, relentless. "Or prepare to burn, chakaar".

The Mandalorian was standing at the door with the laser carabine raise to Mentis' head. His body ready for battle and his face calm but his eyes showing enormous hatred.

"Whoa!" Mentis flinched, still dazed and not used to being taken off guard so easily, "You? How did you?"

Obeying the man's command, but keeping a stern gaze on Sev, the Rattataki stepped away from the table, "You took the drug too, right? How is it you are already awake? Don't tell me you've got one of those bio implants in there too."

"Mando'ad uses a special brewing that slow the heart beat to an almost a stop, keeping us in a semi-aware dream state. I woke up not so after we arrived and before they could account for my presence I was already on the move." He kept talking still pointing his carabine at Mentis. "What happened here?"

Sev indicated to the body on the floor with a subtle flick of his weapon downwards. A deep red was now slowly seeping from the man's head wound. Mentis had not paid any attention to his victim after he had cast him aside but now more lucid thoughts seeped back into his mind. The man was probably just some doctor or researcher.

"He was doing something to me," Mentis felt the course stitches across the length of his scar with a finger.

"And he was in the way. As are you," he added more firmly, gesturing at the smuggler before them, "I just gave Rex the dose to wake him up. He's going to be more groggy than the pair of us, assuming your Mando brew holds up."

"If you think you can move me out of your way, do it. Otherwise, stop wasting my time and get Rex. I doubt I was the only one that heard the sound of that body hitting the ground." Sev's voice hardened as he lowered his carabine.

Scowling, Mentis moved forwards once again and brought a hand around to Rex's back to help him sit upright, his legs dangling limply over the edge of the medical bed. Like Mentis, he was wearing only simple undergarments, although there was no indication that he had been operated on while he had been comatose.

Looking into the smuggler's eyes, Mentis commented, "I'm not at all medical, but his pupils don't look right yet. Try to get him upright whilst I fetch our clothes."

Sev threw his carabine into it's holster and grabbed Rex with one arm, holding him upright and steady. "Get it on with it", he grunted.

Thrusting on his plain white top and greyish leggings, along with his utility belt and lightsaber, Mentis then bundled up Rex's belongings and brought them over, hastily dressing the human also.

"So, did you learn anything useful while you were up and about?" the Rattataki spoke sharply, "Why is Amare not here too?"

Sev looked uncomfortable. "I do not know. She wasn't here when I came about. All the data terminals are voiced-passworded. There is no evidence that she was here."

There was a loud impact on the door leading to the lab followed by the muffled sounds of blaster fire and men screaming seconds before collapsing into death's embrace. A moment of silence followed, and then it was broken as a beam of green plasma punched through the top of the split at the center of the double door. Gradually, the beam cut down the center cleft leaving a bright scorching orange trail of melted metal in its wake. The doubled door slowly split open, one half to the left, the other into the wall recess on the right.

"No...p-please don't," muttered the voice of man outside who was beaten and begging for mercy. "I-I-I have a f-family. No! Ahhh!" A man in a solid black uniform suddenly was thrown violently into the lab in the sight of Mentis and Sev, crashing through equipment on a lab bench, still alive, and barely able to move after he fell to the floor and slid to a stop.

More blaster fire outside the door was heard and then a woman's furious cry of pain.

"I got it!" exclaimed a trooper, but his victory was short-lived. "Wait, no! Blast it! Blast it!! Arrgghh!!" Blue-green flashes of light came from the hallways, the crackling sounds of untamed electrical currents snapping in quick bursts, temporarily restoring peace to the corridor.

A few seconds later, Mentis, Rex, and Sev could see Amare dressed in a black military uniform similar to the one the man she threw into the room was wearing, only hers seemed a size too big for her slim body. She was limping heavily, dragging her left leg which had been shot in the thigh. She was grunting and moaning in extreme agony with each hobbled step as she entered the room and approached the man she had thrown into the lab. The man turned from his prone position on the floor and looked up, horror across his face, his hands up in surrender. Amare stopped to gaze down at him with unbridled malice creasing her face, a blaster pistol in her hand, and allowed the man to squirm for a couple of seconds before she executed him with his own weapon.

The fire in Amare's hearts seemed to fade as she fell to one knee and both hands on the floor, keeping the wounded leg extended. She breathed heavily with exhaustion and groans of torment, the fight knocked out of her for the moment. She had given herself fully to the dark side of the Force to cut a brutal path of murder and mayhem, but it took a heavy toll on her body just getting her this far. She knew if more troopers suddenly piled into the room before she could recover, then it was all over.

"Master...where...?" she muttered between heavy breaths, desperate to find Lord Serus and Bomoor.

Heart racing from the sudden appearance of Amare and the Imperials, Mentis left Rex in Sev's grasp and edged forward, his eyes searching the smoke and dust for any more Imperials ready to spring out. He found none, but that would not last long.

"Amare," he hissed, crouching beside her and frowning with concern as he eyed her injuries, "Thane and Bomoor are not here but we need to get moving. I'm sure they will find their own way."

"Tch...'get moving', huh...?" Amare said through laboured breaths as her wounded started to involuntarily twitch due the shock of the trauma. "I'll be sure to...nnnghh...say that next time you get shot."

“Just be grateful I’m not Axion,” Mentis felt his scar burn as he remembered the pain of being pulled out of Grogga’s Palace by the dark master after his own injury, “At least I understand that pain, but you must fight through it if you want to survive much longer in this place.”

Inwardly, she began to panic, wondering why Lady XoXaan's azoth experiment in her body wasn't doing what Darth Archonus had promised it would do after a renewal cycle. She started to wonder if she somehow botched the ritual, or didn't give herself enough time in the chrysalis for the azoth's healing power to fully manifest.

Or perhaps I used its power to extend my abilities to fight those troopers she deduced to herself. I tapped into a reserve that was meant for healing, not for combat. C'mon, girl, think fast. Your power is exhausted, your leg feels like a stake of hot iron has been run through it, and you've got a kind Ratattaki man next to you who's a bit of a jerk, but he's cute when he tries to act tough...wait...that power...it grows from his feelings and his fear. He's slipping into his killer instincts, the dark side accommodating his desire to survive. His darker thirsts are welling up, making him stronger in anticipation of battle. You could use that power. You need that power. You want to be as strong as him...no...stronger...stronger than a hundred men...a thousand...

"I've a better idea," she told Mentis without trying to sound too demanding. "Give me your hand." She was, however, losing her patience through her incredibly intense pain and her position of weakness.

Hesitantly, the Rattataki offered a pale arm to meet’s Amare’s own blue outreached hand. Her digits coiled about his flesh like a serpent and, almost-immediately, a red hue began to emerge from where they connected. It was a deeply unpleasant sensation, striking fear into Mentis’ core and paralysing him. His free arm hovered over his belt, twitching as though to grab his weapon but Amare’s presence bound him rightly and prevented him from doing so.

“Wha...” he murmured weakly, “Stop.”

More... Amare thought with great avarice, her eyes closed with wanton desire as the flow of Mentis' power flowed through her.

She could feel his anger, contempt, and regrets wounding him by the second. The Force was his armor shielding him from his internal torment, he wore it like a proud warrior, and now she was gradually stripping him of what kept him level and strong. A small part of the husk of her old gentle self started to ring a faint chime of sympathy for the gray man whose soul drifted betwixt the currents of the order of light and the entropy of darkness. However, the urgency to dispel her excruciating agony as quickly as possible overrode her fairer feelings.

...Need...more...to heal. His power is great...the energy so rich... his potential rivaling my own. I need this. I want it all...

The moment as interrupted by a the vibrant whirring sound of a blaster's power cells cycling, the destructive energy within building up ready for the killing shot.

"Watch yourself, Lady Blue," came the familiar, if strained, voice of the Raptor's resident smuggler, now free and standing awkwardly independent of Sev. Clasped in a shaky hand, its barrel pointed towards the young woman's skull, was the weapon Amare had previously used to execute the Bastionite just moments before.

His thumb flicked another switch on the Imperial weapon, and the sound emanating from it dropped to a lower, menacing pitch.

"I mean it," Rex pressed on, the gun inching slightly closer to the Nautolan. "You let him go, or your wizard master'll be using G2 to mop up bits of his prized student's brain, wondering where it all went wrong with such a fine young lass."

Despite the manner of his words, there was a very obvious urgency to the ailing Human's command, which was evident both through the Force, and plainly by his expression and mien.

Amare's hand released its grip on Mentis as she allowed herself an amused smile at gunpoint. "Your 'beau' was never in any danger," she said to Rex whilst still maintaining eye contact with Mentis. "His pain will pass."

Mentis dropped back as though being suddenly released from a tug of war, and only a few seconds passed before Rex lowered his weapon. Now finally able to grab his weapon, he ignited the blade and held it firmly outstretched at Amare, "What the Pfassk, Amare? I should cut you down for that."

Amare did not pay heed to Mentis or the humming rosy red danger of his lightsaber blade, or Rex, or the Mandalorian. She focused on the power within. The bigger picture, and the imminent threat of the Bastion soldiers consumed her thoughts. If it was her destiny to be cut down by Mentis in this room, she wouldn't fight it. She took solace in the knowledge that if he struck her down, Serus would be assured another powerful apprentice to continue the rebirth of the Sith.

Even as Mentis threatened her, he felt light-headed. Where Amare's wounds appeared to be healing before his eyes, his old wounds now ached and burned more than ever. A thin trickle of fresh blood escaped down his cheek from his scar.

Rex, becoming more lucid with each moment, observed Amare just briefly, with macabre and disgusted interest, as even his layman's mind pieced together what has happening before him.

"Mentis," he began, little more than a mutter over his breath, and he placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder to support him. "Your scar," he added. "It's bleeding." Rex picked up the blaster again quickly, eyes widening at how quickly Amare was already recovering.

The usual farcical cowardice and desire for self-preservation that typified the Human seemed to have disappeared. Instead, the man seemed righteously angry, and the gun was once more pointed at Amare's head.

"What have you done, Blue? He's your ally! Your friend!" He growled, looking over the morbid display unfolding before him. Again, the blaster's power cells were cycling, power building, as Rex seemed more determined than before to seize control of the unearthly situation. "How? Why?"

Churning and rippling liquid aglow in turquoise light began to form over Amare's grievous blaster wound, the flesh rapidly regenerating over the charred shallow crater on her thigh. As the seconds passed, the wound became reborn Nautolan flesh. "Hmmm..." She hummed with a gentle moan of relief as she began to gingerly return to her feet, her pain subsiding, nearly losing her balance as she rose. "Assuring our survival..." she breathed just above a whisper, welling with pride as the men saw what her Azoth did in mere moments what would take a full bacta bath days or more to accomplish. Even the lingering agony of where her late brother Capo had shot her was all but gone. "Your display of affection for him is...touching," she said calmly to the bold spacer from Tatooine, hands casually at her sides as she tried to flex her healed leg without fear of the blaster leveled at her, "but I suggest you direct your aim at the open door over there." She nodded in the direction from whence she violently came. "Several more are coming in short order, and I have no further desire to be shot again. I imagine neither would our Mandalorian guest."

Rex's eyes flicked quickly from Mentis' wound to the door. Some of his bravery surrendered quickly to a more familiar look of fear, as the man clearly considered the implications of Amare's warning - and the snowballing situation they were embroiled in.

"First Korriban," he seethed under his breath, although still loud enough to be heard by the others. "And now, Bastion." He shook his head, a grim expression pulling back his features. Rex then looked back over to Sev, who seem unfazed by the escalation between Mentis and Amare or the impending battle. "Things were easier when I was just runnin' guns, S," he grumbled. "A bad pazaak hand or a faulty power cell were the worst of my problems. Now, it's all wizards and fascists."

Mentis shot a look back at the Mandalorian, having been unaware of whatever past connection Rex and Sev obviously shared. Sev seemed less than amused by the comment, seemingly prepared to pull a gun on any one of them if they made the wrong move. At least everyone shares a mutual distrust from the Mandalorian, the Rattataki thought.

Amare's shoto sprung up from the floor into her summoning grasp. "Let's be off. I can feel Thane and Bomoor bond; they are close. And one more thing to you, Mentis. The next time you hold your blade to one of my kind, make certain her name is Nala and destroy her before she destroys you."

Mentis pulled his blade back and held it in in a loose Makashi stance at his side as he stabilised himself. Between deep breaths, he growled, "I'll defend myself against whoever does me wrong, witch. I've done so before."

But Amare had already begun to move off and the rest of the partially-reassembled party hesitantly followed, with little other option.

"Wait..." Amare said, extending her arm to halt the group. "Something is wrong. The soldiers in the hall are pulling back. They're...retreating? But why? I saw a personnel listing during my escape. They have us outnumbered ten to one at least."

"Men and women trained for battle know when to follow orders, Lady Amare," said a deep man's voice behind the group. When they turned, they witnessed the holographic projection of an older human male in a black uniform with a wide rank plaque over his left upper chest with multiple red, blue, and yellow square set upon it. He stood tall in a simple military posture with his hands resting at his back as he regarded the group. "Or should I say Zaracoda Versetto? The widow of a murdered business executive, now the owner of a Jedi's weapon and wielding impressive powers no less. How interesting, and traveling with her own band of adventurers no less."

Tried as she could, Amare failed to hide the partially stunned look on her face. To have her past identity revealed so brazenly in front of the others struck her with a momentary pang of embarrassment. She wondered...did they scan her genetics and run a background check on her whilst she slept in hibernation? Not since Korriban had she felt quite so creeped out by a stranger. Who were these people to go to such lengths, she wondered.

"I am Valavai Tarses, the Grand Moff of Bastion. I must admit, I have seen a number of clandestine attempts to infiltrate this world we proudly call home, but none so bold and reckless as this, especially from the Jedi. Strange, I did not realize your Order would stoop so low as to employ a Mandalorian to assist you. My...how times have changed."

Seemingly on cue, the secondary blast doors closed and sealed the group in once again. They were playing Tarses' game now.

TBC

 

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