"The Attempt on My Life..."

Posted on Tue Aug 30th, 2022 @ 9:46pm by Thane & Bomoor Thort

4,770 words; about a 24 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Council Chambers, Fel Citadel, Bastion
Timeline: Late Evening (Day Three, Week Four) - After "The Plot is Afoot"

Thane's mind was racing to maintain pace with the alarming speed events had taken in the preceding few hours, let alone the days leading up to this situation. With the revelations provided by Bomoor that confirmed the suspicions Rift Knight Theon had presented to them on Alba with some finality, a righteous fury had risen in him that he had not experienced in some time - since discovering that Masters Sotah and Thurius had been ejected from the Council, perhaps, or when he had learned that very-same Council had sought to use Bomoor to spy on his actions since leaving the Order.

In all of his years as a Jedi, both as a pupil and Knight of the Reborn Order, the omnipresent GalactaWerks Corporation had remained a constant source of consternation and strife throughout the entirety of the galaxy. It was hard to not blame them for the conflicts that had gripped the Third Republic over the past two centuries, and harder yet to dismiss their corrupting influence on the wheels of power within their apparent democracy. To now have those fears and concerns so palpably realised within the Bastion Moff Empire was both unsettling and invigorating.

He reached the broad doorway of one of the council chambers built into the expansive Fel Citadel, having returned with the others from the Praetor-class Supreme Star Destroyer to assist in preparations against the renegade moffs and their corporate allies some time ago. An extraordinary session of the Council of Moffs had been called by Grand Moff Tarses, and whilst it was unclear exactly how many would rally in support as loyalists or be discovered as turncoats, the conflict that had been brewing from long before the Red Raptor entered Imperial space was now reaching a terminus - and Thane intended to be at the centre of it.

With narrowed eyes and an increased perception within the Force, the former Jedi Knight stretched his senses beyond his immediate surroundings to the room beyond, as well as the components wired and laced about the doorway and walls around him. He had been summoned by one of the agitant characters within the Council, to address some manner of vague allegiance with the Force-wielding warriors that had rattled the chains of power in Bastion. Naturally, he expected some manner of trap or ploy, especially after the circumstances surrounding Bomoor and Amare, and then just Amare in the infirmary, but he decided that any means by which he dealt with this would result in some betterment of his position with Tarses, whether that was through sheer fact of survival, or through the destruction of another foe.

The machinery encased within the metal structures was complex but refined - too sophisticated for his senses to truly unravel in a manner that could be interpreted - but Thane did not detect anything pertinent, and he was unable to sense anything organic nearby, as all other forces were rallied for the coming operation.

He activated the door switch and brushed his cape back as he entered, black boots clipping the polished metal floor. Coming to stand before the large meeting table before him, which was surrounded by a number of chairs reserved for the various moffs of state. The chamber itself was large and circular, and a number of concealed surveillance devices were built neatly and in a subdued manner into the framework of the room, which lent Thane some confidence in his arrival.

Nevertheless, he kept his gloved right hand close to his lightsaber hilt, the leather occasionally brushing against the polished metal.

"I have arrived, as requested," Thane said aloud, wondering if the meeting might be held remotely, for the security of his potential host, at the very least. "I am alone." In a different time and as a different man, he may have found saying those last words almost comical, but his world had irrevocably changed.

There was a moment of silence and then a small pop as a steady hiss of quiet static began to stream out of a communications device in the centre of the table. Through the static was the just-about-audible sound of moving parts, like a small piston pumping away in a regular pattern.

No holographic projection followed, instead just a low, muffled voice. The accent was tricky to identify: it was slow and pronounced like he formal Basic tongue of many of the officers and officials he had met during his time here. However, a true determination was difficult to make under the static and background noise.

“Thank you for coming, Commissar Thane. As detailed in my message, I have been eager to meet with you after learning of your presence within Bastion space. The return of the Sith to Bastion stirs up conflicting imagery for most Bastionites and you and your friends have not failed to deliver a spectacle in your short time here.”

There was some creaking and clicking in the walls and Thane’s eyes flitted from side to side, not seeing any immediate change in the room as the voice continued.

“I believe we can resolve the rift recent events has created within the council. We need an action to ensure there is no doubt in anyone’s minds which side to land on. In fact, I think the two of us can work this all out right here and now."

Again, another subtle sound, a small click within the door mechanism the Sith had just ventured through.

"So rarely are things so simple or finite," Thane replied, intentionally swelling a degree of power within him to face whatever threat lurked behind the carefully-chosen words of his host.

His concern had only increased with the very explicit reference to his status as a self-declared Sith; thus far, only Amare, Bomoor and Grand Moff Tarses knew him to be as such. He did not know if it was a precise deduction by this mysterious figure, or if they were truly armed with intelligence beyond his expectations.

"You want Grand Moff Tarses toppled," Thane voiced aloud, his hand still hovering close to the compact hilt of his weapon. "You want me to do this for you. But, I wonder, if you intend for me to land the killing blow upon him for you, or if making some mockery of me is your chosen path to your objective - ending His Excellency's gambit before it can pay off."

The static and mechanical pulsing continued for a moment uninterrupted before the figure spoke again.

"Both would be suitable outcomes for my purposes," his voice was a shade colder, seeming glad to drop some degree of pretence, "Although, I see no need to make an example of you. The further I look into your file, Thane, the more I feel your quick, quiet execution would benefit all parties in the long run."

There was something else masked by the static, different from the fizz of random transmission noise. There was a steady hiss of escaping gas within the round chamber and Thane spied a few wisps of cloudy-green gas just beginning to seep through the gaps in the ventilation grates around the edges of the room.

"Dioxis gas should be painless enough," the voice continued, "I'd advise against holding your breath. My other methods will not be so merciful."

Thane held back a sneer. The frustration that had gripped him since the altercation with Amare and the others in the infirmary had not entirely left him. More than anything, this was more time lost and more hubris from the competing parties seeking to dominate the Bastion Moff Empire. Although he had never truly been embroiled in a conflict that would determine the fate of an empire, or perhaps even beyond, he could not help but find the situation almost trivial.

He summoned the Force about him and within, preserving and enhancing the unblemished air already in his lungs with ethereal power. Whilst he had not mastered the technique to the same extent Bomoor had, Thane also appreciated that his respiratory anatomy was at a slight disadvantage to his childhood companion, and he took his lightsaber hilt into his hand, stepping away from the centre of the room.

Behind him, the room's only door had sealed and he heard mechanical churning from the corridor beyond. Presumably, blast doors and/or other security measures had been activated. Designed for the most serious of events or risks posed to the figures that typically populated the chamber, Thane was now, for all intents and purposes, sealed within. The lighting dipped and was replaced by a low orange-red hue of emergency lighting. Within seconds, the Sith's view of the room was entirely obstructed by the haze of the dioxis gas, as he was subsumed by the miasma.

“It may interest you to know,” the voice continued menacingly, “This is not the first time my position has led me to execute one of your kind and I have learned a number of useful facts in the process. For example, your frustrating aptitude for holding your breath.”

The sound of numerous mechanisms activating alerted Thane to the sudden opening of four ceiling panels around the circumference of the meeting room.

“However, even a Gungan’s oxygen reserves would be strained if also fending off an attack on all sides,” the man stated as four compact mounted blaster canons slid down from the openings and began training their sights on Thane, “I would give you one more chance to take a breath, but I shan’t waste my own.”

The turrets began to open fire, leading Thane to shift aside with his Force-aided reflexes. But the computer-automated tracking in the weapons was fast and they shifted to follow him reflexively about the room. He was being forced even further from the door, which he could now firmly assume was locked anyway, with dioxis swelling about his body.

The room was not large; whilst it was designed to accommodate each of Bastion's various moffs at the table, the chamber was otherwise minimalist and dark in its design, likely to offer a sense of both foreboding and linear authority, with only the stylised throne at the apex of the table showing any true distinct flair from the rest of the aesthetics. There were no clear positions to conceal one's self, especially as the turrets were lining the ceilings at equidistance from one another, giving them a clear firing zone that encompassed the whole room.

Thane had ignited his blade as he spun out of the way of the initial salvos from the turrets, keeping his lightsaber spinning in tight curves against the off-side of his body, a one-handed Niman grip allowing him to rapidly deflect any of the blaster bolts he could not evade through physical movements. Due to the haze, most of the actions he took were reliant on his senses within the Force, with the whole ordeal forcing him to engulf himself heavily within the mystical power, parrying near-unseen bolts as he conserved his fading oxygen.

The turrets did not relent in their assault, their shots repeatedly and rapidly following Thane as he darted at superhuman speeds around the room. With all four converging on him at any moment, he struggled to redirect any of them at any of the turrets. When he finally did, the energy seemed to dissipate across the dark metal of the automated weapons. The brilliant shade of green revealed that more expensive and powerful gases were used in the plasma, and whilst this meant that a singular hit could spell disaster for Thane, it also meant that the turrets would not be able to withstand many of their own shots being redirected.

Through the Force, he took hold of two of the chairs that lined the room and tore them from the floor, exposing sparking circuitry as he did, and drew them in to cover himself from one side. There was a cacophony of sound as the bolts impacted on the reinforced chairs and he used the reprieve to continuously direct a series of shots back into the nearest turret, finally obliterating it.

As the floating chairs neared a melting point, Thane launched them at the two farthest turrets, soaking up more shots as the heated and damaged metal soared towards them and finally collided with the ceiling-mounted weapons. Whilst it did not take them out of commission, it gave Thane the additional time to pick up physical speed and momentum once more. With a sudden thrust of his hand, he threw his lightsaber at one of the damaged turrets and, once it successfully split its target down its centre, telekinetically guided it across the room to the other, impaling it.

Bringing himself closer to a stop, Thane outstretched his hand to summon his weapon back, the gas in the room still pervasive enough to limit his vision and breath, but realised through his extrasensory talents a moment too late that he had misjudged. One heavy, green blaster bolt from the final turret smashed into the edge of the table, the slag and sparks from the impact catching him and knocking him backwards, and his lightsaber flew straight past him and cut into the wall behind him. The turret did not relent in its assault, and Thane was only just able to steady himself and raise both his hands up to absorb the powerful blaster bolts being directed straight at him.

His teeth clenched as Thane exerted as much of his energy as he could into capturing the energy. He could feel the extreme heat of the plasma as he struggled to use the Force to contain the assault and power. A wild desperation began to grow within him, as he became increasingly aware of his lack of oxygen and scope to escape, and a sense of claustrophobia began to swell. Unable to contain the rage, pain and the threat of panic, Thane let himself roar. With the exertion, he summoned more power from the Dark Side of the Force within him, drew on the physical energy of the plasma he was withstanding, and cast it back at the turret. Lightning erupted from his hands, combining with the plasma, and enveloped the turret, obliterating it immediately and leaving an almighty scorch mark across the wall and ceiling around where it had been.

As the last of Thane’s blue lightning sparked and fizzed across the wall, the lighting in the room suddenly cut out, leaving only the occasional spark from severed electrical cables providing snapshots of the room, still thick with the green-hued dioxis, although the vents appeared to have ceased their spewing and had fallen silent.

Thane now lay on the far side of the room, his chest heaving with the desire to intake breath, but his teeth were clenched shut in defiance.

The door on the far side of the room clattered as it unlocked and it opened, revealing three GWM-1 model battle droids, with the central droid bearing the golden-yellow paintwork of a command model. They quickly slid inside and the door once again slammed shut, but not before a small amount of the thick gas exited the room into the corridor beyond. Once again in darkness, Thane could still sense the droids approaching, weapons raised, on his position.

Bringing himself upright to face them, weapon still out of reach, he suddenly felt a shiver of warning and his eyes flicked to his side. He caught a shimmering patch of distortion in the shape of a humanoid made visible only in that faint sliver of electrical light. He had just enough warning to bring his arm about to knock away the limb of the concealed being just in time to divert a round of green blaster fire that had been aimed at his heart.

The sudden jerk of the figure away seemed to weaken the projection of what must have been a personal stealth field generator and a menacing golden mask under slick black hair was briefly visible before once again being cloaked in the light-bending field of the stealth device.

Thane detected the shrouded figure rounding again for another shot with his weapon. Whilst the recent exertion of power had dampened his ability to immediately call on any further extrasensory finesse, he could still sense his opponent's presence, although his mind was strictly clouded - almost as well-trained and precise as that of a Jedi.

He spun himself out of the way of the next series of shots, which were offered in close succession to each other, and he flung himself towards the three droids. In the split-second he had to consider it, he found it almost alien to once again be facing the automatons; they had featured heavily in vids of the Second Outer Rim Conflict, serving as a mainstay of the Republic-led offensives against the Outer Rim Alliance for much of that war, but he had also encountered many variants during his tenure as a Jedi - especially on worlds where the cultures and governments were obfuscated by the GalactaWerks Corporation.

He smashed one of the droids towards another, a blaster bolt loosed directly into the other droid, immediately destroying its cranial chamber, circuitry torn and melted. Within the same movement, Thane dove towards a nearby wall and now used the Force to wrench a wall panel from its fixtures off to smack the remaining droid into the ground for a moment. Unfortunately, it left him vulnerable and a moment too late to prepare for the next attack from his mysterious assailant, who had drawn in close and now smashed something thick and metal into the side of his face.

The blow sent Thane backwards, his back colliding hard with the metal wall, and it was only through his natural mystical affinities that saved his jaw from cracking. The heavy impact thrust some of the artificially-maintained air supply still reserved in his lungs from his body and he gulped a mouthful of the still-tainted air in the room, its sharp, vile taste quickly filling his mouth.

He had almost no time to recover before the masked figure prepared to fire a shot into the beleaguered Sith, but Thane, struggling against the minor effects of the toxins now beginning to course through his body, pushed himself off the wall and threw his own Force-imbued jab straight into the centre of his enemy's mass, hoping to disarm and wind him, in turn.

The blow struck, although slightly off course, collide with the opponent’s side, which was reinforced with a light metal alloy. It was unclear as to whether this was a garment or the body of the assailant as it was not unlike striking the droids before. The force was enough to send the figure stumbling backwards and the flickering stealth field finally collapsed entirely to reveal a tall, shadowy man cloaked in black and gold garments, that flowed between fabric and mechanisms. While apparently Human, most of his limbs were augmented in some way to a far greater degree than Thane’s own assistive cybernetics. He now had a slightly better look at the mask adorning the man’s face; it was a flat and emotionless mask, similar to the death masks some cultures placed on the deceased but made of a gold-hued alloy as though it was a fine opera mask of pure electrum.

The lighting flickered again, and Thane could hear the man take a muffled gasp through the respirator in his mask, “The things I do for this company,” he muttered as the two remaining battle droids moved to his sides, “For a secure future.”

He raised his short pistol once again and fired several shots towards Thane in rapid succession, which narrowly missed their target, but the droids were also now approaching once again to pin the Caanan down. Thane managed to wrench one of the droids across and towards the cybernetic attacker, leaving him with the remaining droid now firing upon him, with it becoming harder and harder to dodge the blaster bolts as his precognition weakened.

Thane did his best to maintain his momentum, managing to divide his energy and Forceful talents between expelling the poison that had filled his lungs and dodging the repeated blaster fire from his opponents. The augmented warrior had fired too many shots of his high-charge pistol, causing it to overheat and fail, whilst the droid was taking lazier potshots at the fast-moving Sith. However, in the intermittent lighting of the chamber and the madness of the combat, he could not find his lightsaber. Instead, he took another opportunity to attack the final droid, as he seized one of its downed compatriot's weapons and fired a single fatal blast into its bulk, disabling it immediately.

As soon as the shot had been loosed, though, Thane only just about reacted quickly enough to the warning he sensed through the Force to raise the rifle up in a defensive posture, as another artificially-enhanced swing of a fist came towards him. The weapon took the brunt of the hit as it cracked in its centre, but the blow still knocked Thane back a couple of paces; his opponent took the opportunity to follow through with another swing from his other arm. Even with a degree of protection afforded by his supernatural talents, the smack cracked at least one of Thane's ribs and winded him, and he fell back into the wall behind him, a sweaty palm now resting over his injured abdomen.

The smoke had now mostly cleared from the room. Thane peered with hateful eyes at the approaching assailant, getting his clearest view yet of the 'company' man. His lungs burning and one eye streaming from the gas of the chamber, the well-garbed large figure struck an imposing, almost archaic, sight - but he was no Jedi.

With a low growl, dredging up whatever reserves his ailing midichlorians could allow him to summon, the Caanan propelled himself forwards once more, focusing on his pain and the hatred he held, in this moment, at least, for the monster that had the audacity to seek his death in this manner.

The man put both his hands out and caught the Force-hastened Thane with surprising strength for his stature, although the force of the impact sent him sliding back somewhat across the conference room floor and the sound of aching servos could be audibly heard. The fledgling Sith felt his opponent's knuckles tighten into his robe and he tried to wrench Thane downwards but Thane clasped his own hands upon the man and the pair briefly tangled for control until, now backed into the remains of the conference table, the masked Human was pinned down.

The man groaned as shards of glass from the shattered surface dug into his back and, with a renewed and furious strength, he managed to swing a fist into the right side of Thane's face and sent him staggering to the side, clasping a partly torn lip, with the metallic taste of blood seeping across his tongue. In the corner of his eye, he spied the figure of the man arising and the glint of a small knife being pulled out.

As the lighting flickered the man shot forward like a phantom, with the weapon arcing upwards in a motion to connect with his chest. Still weary, but not completely disconnected from the Force, Thane caught the arm with both hands and violently twisted, immediately breaking away much of the supportive mechanical braces around the arm and likely fracturing the more tender bone within. The knife fell away and the assassin staggered back, gasping in pain and holding the injured, 'degloved' arm with the other.

The blasts of pain Thane was subjected to, combined with the sweet succour of impending victory tantalising his senses, he felt a swelling of Force power returning to him, his rage lifting his energy and driving his focus. He began to not notice the pain as he stalked towards his prey, whose moans reverberated inhumanly through his cybernetic enhancements.

The figure looked with invisible at the approaching Sith through the slits within his metallic mask and began to raise his uninjured, unenhanced arm back up, ready to strike at the dark warrior. Thane raised his own hand, but instead of grasping the inbound strike from his assailant, an unseen power gripped the limb mid-flow. Another unearthly growl emanated from within the other man, as he struggled against the Force power holding his arm in place, as Thane continued to approach.

The assassin's injury had left him entirely susceptible to Thane's ethereal might, which continued to wash over him with greater and larger waves; the ever-present din of the universe, as perceived through the awesome majesty of one's connection to the Force, was growing clearer once more. Sounds, movements and the essence of life - even the tiny mechanisms of both droids and the machinery contained within Thane's opponent - became clearer to the Caanan prince.

Despite his resistance and the exertion from his opponent, there was an audible crack, as the bones in his arm snapped from the Force energy being thrust upon him. By the time the masked figure came to scream, Thane grasped his entire form within his mystical power, his gloved hand outstretched, fingers splayed and vibrating with the effort.

"There is no future in your enterprise," Thane said to the man, as his broken arms were pulled out to either side harshly. He brought his other hand forward, briefly outstretched as he focused upon the various small cogs, wheels and pistons that he could sense working throughout his enemy's narrowly-Human frame. "The age of the machine will not come to pass; the time of corporate manipulations and self-serving financiers is at an end. The Sith have returned... and your masters will finally be stricken from this galaxy."

Thane began pulling away with his offhand, almost haphazardly, as if rapidly tearing away at paper from a parcel. With the motion, cloth, prosthesis and flesh alike were all telekinetically ripped from the assassin's body, with each plate of bronze machinery or torn fabric flung across the room with no heed, revealing more and more of the crippled man beneath. His roars of pain, intermingled with the artificial buzzing and interference of his cybernetic vocoder, were almost drowned out by the sharp electrical spikes launching from his increasingly-damaged body.

As Thane peeled away one of the last layers with reckless abandon, more of the man's flesh beneath was finally revealed; a pasty-white chest, formerly covered by all manner of unsightly analogue cybernetic workings, was displayed beneath the weak artificial light struggling above them. Scarred and emaciated, it was a pathetic and fragile sight, as blood soon began to seep from the wounds Thane had freshly caused through his Force-ly assault.

His opponent stumbled backwards as Thane's hold was finally released, and he fell back onto the conference table once more, his narrow chest heaving, failing lungs rasping without the necessary components now present or functioning. His lungs could be heard to be rattling against the backdrop of struggling servos, and the assassin's breaths vibrated weakly through the still-intact mask, and it almost sounded as though he were attempting to mutter some parting comments to his killer.

Thane stepped up to the fallen assassin, whose head turned weakly to examine the Sith, his oily-black hair tangled about his bronze visage. Thane could not hear what the being was trying to say, nor did he ultimately care to, but he opened himself up further to the Force, relaxing as many of his barriers as he felt comfortable to do so, and invited his surroundings unto himself. He could feel the life leaving the broken Human that lay splayed before him. It was almost intoxicating, in a way that he had not truly appreciated before, and certainly not in his existence prior to the discovery of the Sith.

It was not the first death he had inflicted himself and felt through the Force, but he had never taken the opportunity to truly observe the development in this manner, with a critical eye and with the view of surrendering himself to the experience within the Force - to truly share the unnatural perversion of the natural order unfold on such a raw, untamed fashion.

Thane placed his hand around the mask and chin of his adversary, looked down into him, and watched him die.

_________________________

THANE

▬ Melee combat Increase

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