Battle in the Grove
Posted on Thu Mar 27th, 2025 @ 11:06pm by Bomoor Thort & Mentis & Thane & Amare & Reave & Tolmin Voq† & Kalen "Rex" Vickers
7,146 words; about a 36 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VII: Uprooted
Location: Elenca Settlement, Öetrago
Timeline: End of Week Five (After "The Descent")
OLD
Reave readied his weapon as Mentis stepped forward to face Bomoor, "Then I will stand with you against Voq. I know him better than all of you and, if nothing else, will be a distraction to him. You can then focus on your mother."
But before Bomoor could respond and confirm their plans, he felt a disturbance in the Force across the grove. Amare and Mentis responded too and their gaze looked shot down, just in time to watch an explosive blast tear down a barrier erected at another road away from the settlement centre. Several surprised droids turned and were immediately subjected to a shock, falling to the ground as a twitching mess of circuitry. A series of figures, some more humanoid than others, shot through the gap in the defences and began launching covering fire towards the GalactaWerks forces, as well as casting out more of the devices that had caused the other droids to short out.
"The rebels!" Bomoor's eyes grew wide, realising what was happening, "Time's up. Let's get down and join them!"
With that, Bomoor leapt off the building, igniting his viridian blade against the murky amber sky and landing a powerful Ithorian foot down upon an unaware battle droid, warping it as easily as bending a hanger, before charging onwards into the fray.
NEW
Above the chaos of the battlefield, the Red Raptor hovered with precision, its form casting a shadow over the burning woodland and smaller homes below. Thane's hands moved deftly over the controls, his mind attuned to the Force as he guided the ship. Beside him, Rex monitored the ship's systems, ensuring their weapons were primed and ready. It was not the usual arrangement, but there was no denying the benefit of a Force-fuelled pilot in atmospheric conditions, and as much as the former Jedi bemoaned starship travel, he boasted the necessary skillset and reflexes when needed.
"We’ve got multiple enemy camps settin' up big guns near the rebel positions," Rex called out, his voice tinged with urgency and fear.
"Understood," Thane responded, his focus intense but measured. "We'll target the artillery first, take out their support."
The Raptor banked smoothly, lining up for a strafing run. Thane's connection to the Force allowed him to anticipate the enemy's movements, guiding the ship with uncanny precision. The ship's laser cannons roared to life, sending streams of crimson energy tearing into the GalactaWerks artillery. Explosions rippled across the encampments, and Thane felt a grim satisfaction at the sight of enemy units being obliterated.
"Direct hit! That should buy the ground team some breathing room," Rex confirmed, a rare note of triumph in his voice.
Thane nodded, his mind already shifting to the next target. "Keep an eye on those droid deployments. We can't let them reinforce their positions."
As the Red Raptor veered away from the smouldering wreckage, Rex's sensors picked up more hostiles. "More droids deploying from the eastern side. They’re razing everything in their path."
Thane’s jaw tightened as he manoeuvred the ship, pulling them into a low pass over the encampment. "Hold on. We're going in close."
Rex swallowed hard, his usual cowardice momentarily overshadowed by the urgency of their mission. "Right behind ya."
The Raptor descended, its laser cannons unleashing another barrage on the encampment. Thane’s Force-enhanced senses guided his aim, each shot finding its mark with deadly accuracy. As the droids fell, Thane’s thoughts flickered to the ground team—Bomoor, Mentis, Amare, and Reave—fighting for their lives amidst the chaos.
"That's another wave down, but there's still more coming," Rex reported, his eyes glued to the console.
Thane glanced at Rex, sensing the fear beneath his composed exterior. "We’re not making a true dent. Most of the forces are now within the settlement, making them hard to hit without collateral damage. To really make a difference and force their hand, we might need to make a more direct assault on the enemy-occupied areas."
Rex's eyes widened, his face paling at the implication. "Are you suggestin' we hit areas with villagers - normal folks!? That’s... that’s just wrong, man! We can't just obliterate everything in our path!"
Thane’s expression hardened, though the conflict within him was clear. "I’m not suggesting we target innocents, but we need to disrupt their operations. Their positions are too fortified for us to be selective from up here."
Rex’s voice trembled slightly, but he held his ground. "There has to be another way. We can’t justify blowin' up homes and kids for the sake of strategy!"
Thane took a deep breath, steadying himself. "We need to find a balance, Vickers. If we don’t act decisively, our team on the ground might not stand a chance." His tone was stark, not inviting true discourse. "We’ll make sure to avoid locals as much as possible, but we have to make an impact."
As Thane's mind raced with the ethical implications, he felt a steely certainty take hold. This was a tactical decision born from necessity. Some buildings would be destroyed, and there might be harm to the natives, to Bomoor's people, but it was the price they had to pay to overcome their enemies' arrogance and tactical missteps. The GalactaWerks-supported forces had underestimated the resolve of a pacifist agricultural settlement, and Thane intended to use their overconfidence against them. At least the Elenca would survive, and with it, the hope of rebuilding what was lost. Bomoor would save their conscience, spirit, and leadership in his mother, Mumin. This dual effort would ensure their collective survival and the preservation of what truly mattered.
Rex nodded reluctantly, his newfound respect, and ongoing fear, of Thane’s abilities outweighing his usual trepidation. Together, they guided the ship back into the fray, laying down suppressing fire and targeting the fortified positions with precision. The strained relationship between them momentarily set aside, they worked as a formidable team, each relying on their own strengths to turn the tide of the battle.
Clutching a well-worn blaster pistol to her chest, her cover position pelted by the targeted laser fire from several heavy battle droids, Jiljoo held back tears of anger and fear.
How could Mother Mozo have offered herself in trade like this? She was too valuable to sacrifice herself, even for her heroic saviour Llim, whom she too was angry with for letting Voq take him instead of her?
But, most of all, she was angry at herself for allowing herself to be captured in the first place. If she had not been so foolish, perhaps none of this would have happened at all. As it stood, they now had neither Llim or Mumin. Their leader had told no one that she planned to go ahead and bargain for Llim's life and the fate of her former settlement. As soon as they realised what she had planned, their little team and whatever rebels they could muster away from their main base in the north on such short notice charged to this place with no plan besides tearing through as many droids as possible to get their people back.
Now here she sat, helpless, knowing she and all her friends stood little chance of survival against this mechanical killing squadron. Her hand tightened around the trigger, and she summoned the strength in her knees to rise, ready to face her heartless foes.
But before she had the chance to peer over, her one good lek twitched and she heard a vibrant, almost melodic throng nearby. It sang against the bleak backdrop of laser fire and explosions, pausing every moment or so as the sound of groaning steel interrupted its song. Moments later, the nearby droids uttered something inaudible before succumbing to the siren's call to destruction.
Then, a pale green light shone around Jiljoo's durasteel crate cover. She looked around, immediately finding that strength in her legs that was such a burden mere moments ago. She found herself staring at a foreboding, but familiar Ithorian, wielding a silvery-green lightsaber.
"I..." she stumbled, squinting at him, before opening her eyes wide, "Is zat' you Bomoor?"
The man cocked his head slightly, mirroring her recognition, before he snot his neck around and his blade intercepted several rounds of blaster fire coming towards them.
Jiljoo gasped in surprise but steadied herself as Bomoor's voice rang out, "Help your friends. We will handle Voq."
She nodded and started to move, keeping an eye on him for a moment longer as he turned back towards the fight, another Jedi-like figure with pale skin approaching him with a red blade but seemingly on his side.
It's all right now, she thought, adrenaline pumping through her so much so that she felt she could feel the Force herself, Bomoor's back!
Ever the swift-footed scoundrel that she had once been, Amare took the indirect approach towards the laser cannon, opting for the unorthodox and using the environment to seize and maintain a stealth advantage. Flexible and lithe in body, Amare cut a beeline path along the perimeter, darting, rolling, and somersaulting from cover to cover, using supply crates and other obstructions that she could stand or crouch behind. She even employed the kinetic influences of the Force to create small audible distractions away from her position. She even would toss gravel and rocks that the back of the heads of a couple of droids prompting a few of them to accuse the clueless others of a malfunction or the need to be reprogrammed or permanently disassembled.
Thane's aerial assault above was a magnificent distraction, but perhaps a bit too close for call as one of the stray heavy blasts from the Red Raptor struck an explosive container barely more than thirty feet away. She had barely a second to take cover and avoid a piece of shrapnel from driving into her forehead.
Catching her breath, and certain the droids hadn't noticed her, she noticed something was missing.
"Reave?" she whispered loudly, turning her head and eyes about to look for him.
"Halt, intruder!" A droid demanded in its synthetic robotic voice, its blaster rifle at the ready held low by its midsection. "Do not attempt resistance."
Amare had her hands up as she rose from her hiding place. "You got me," she said with a smirk. "It's easy to get lost around here, you know. There's just one problem I seem to be having that I think you should know about."
"No more talking," the droid responded. "On your knees, criminal. Surrender!"
"I beg your mercy, but there's a feral Jawa running around the place with really big blasters," Amare added, feigning humility and fear. "Oh, and there's seems to be a problem with the gravity around here."
Her lightsaber rose up from her belt and into her raised right hand. She gripped it, activated the brilliant amber-hued plasma blade, and snapped into a perfect opening Form-I stance with both hands firmly on the hilt and ready for action. Her lips parted, and she instantly allowed herself a wide toothy grin and a brief mocking chuckle.
As if on cue, the air was filled with the sound of tinny screeching and a symphony of explosions. The droid's head swiveled in the direction of the chaos.
Reave, it seemed, had decided that stealth was not in his programming. He barreled through the fray, his oversized blaster cannons blazing with a fiery passion that only a creature who had nothing to lose could muster. His cigarra dangled from the side of his unseen mouth, the embers flying as he roared in his native tongue, which she assumed was some form of Jawaese war cry.
The droids, caught off guard by this explosive entry, turned their attention to the new threat. Reave met their gazes with a wild fury, his eyes blazing with a madness that was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. His blaster cannons spat forth bolts of plasma, tearing through metal and circuitry alike. The droids dropped like rag dolls, their parts clanging against the unforgiving ground - but he did not stop here. With a screech that could curdle the oil in a droid's circuits, Reave charged further into the fray, switching to a vibro-axe (which none of his crewmates had seen before) with the same ease that most beings would switch a conversation's topic. He swung with reckless abandon, the blade slicing through droids with a high-pitched whine that harmonized with the symphony of destruction. Despite the chaos, the cigarra remained clamped firmly between his invisible teeth, bobbing up and down with every swing, never once extinguished.
The droids, programmed for precision, had not anticipated the sheer, unbridled rage of a Jawa in combat. Their tactical algorithms scrambled to adapt to the erratic, almost playful movements of their attacker. Their shots went wild as Reave danced through their ranks, dodging and weaving like a maddened creature from a Jawa sandstorm legend. The vibro-axe met droid after droid with a ferocity that belied his small stature.
In the midst of his rampage, a rogue blaster bolt clipped Reave's cigarra, sending it spiralling through the air like a fiery comet. The cigarra hit the ground and sizzled out, forgotten amidst the carnage. Reave's eyes narrowed to slits, his fury now a laser focus on the battle at hand. With a roar that echoed the dying wails of the droids, he brought his axe down on the last droid's head with such force that its body split in two, showering the ground with sparks.
The droid's severed pieces fell to the ground, and the air was left with the hiss of cooling metal. Only then did Reave seem to remember his cigarra. He glared at the spot where it had landed, his rage unabated. He stomped over to the remains, crushing them under his heavy boots, and then looked around as if daring the universe to challenge him again. He pulled a fresh cigarra from his bandolier, a silent promise of more destruction to come. He clenched it firmly within the dark recess where his face was concealed. He took a moment to light it, but the flame did nothing to reveal his concealed visage.
However, even with a fresh cigarra filling his tiny lungs, the Jawa's fury had not been satiated, not even with the ruin he had wrought. He mounted the smouldering chassis of the last droid, the metal still hot enough to make the ground sizzle, and let out a series of guttural growls and squeaks. The sound was eerily similar to a Tusken Raider's laughter, had Amare any such knowledge, and just as unsettling. He revved up his vibro-axe once more, and started hacking away at the smouldering remnant of his cigarra-felling foe.
Not even a little disappointed that she didn't get to take out the droid, Amare was utterly chuffed to bits at Reave's wanton display of violence. Had the situation been different, she might have shared a smoke with the rambunctious psycho Jawa.
"I'll never get bored seeing you in action," Amare said with the subdued awe of a fangirl. She pointed her blazing saber towards the cannon and nodded her head in its direction. "C'mon! We've got bigger things to turn into scrap."
A flurry of shots spread out across the grassy field and a nimble Rattataki warrior jumped into the air, twisting his body and watching as the acid green laser bolts passed below him. Slicing his weapon out towards his mechanical attackers, he sliced clean through one and shredded the weapon of the other. The now-unarmed droid could barely compute a reaction before a Force wave blasted him back and into a cluster of other GalactaWerks foot soldiers.
Mentis had never found himself facing so many droids before. They were hard to read in the Force but his abilities had never had to rely as much on reading his opponent and more about making sure he was faster and nimbler than them at every juncture. Even with the most advanced tactical droid commanding them in perfect sync, he could still duck, weave and dice them. Still, they had the numbers to make this advantage meaningless if all the droids in the settlement converged on this spot.
Shooting forwards, he brought his saber through the downed droids before pausing to look across the battlefield. He flinched slightly as he saw the menacing cybernetic figure of Tomlin Voq staring at him from across the battlefield. Even from this distance, he could see the man's menacing smirk emerging from beneath the thin black scarf that adorned his metallic chest-piece. His eyes shone with a menacing mirth as he stood with his arms crossed, watching his former cultist colleague opposing his droid forces. Once he knew Mentis had caught his gaze, he released one hand from his chest and beckoned Mentis towards him.
The Devaronian's eyes then flicked up slightly peering behind the Rattataki and Mentis realised that Bomoor was rapidly approaching. The Ithorian moved unnaturally quickly and Mentis started moving along with him.
"Voq will give nothing away," Mentis advised as they closed the gap between themselves and the makeshift GalactaWerks command centre, "Even if we have caught him by surprise, he will quickly adapt and use everything at his disposal, including your mother, to see his success."
"Then he is a cowardly rat that you give too much credit," Bomoor's voice was deep and less echoic than usual as he kept his gaze firmly forward, seemingly staring towards where his mother had been, now obscured from view by a gaggle of powerful droids, "Playing with all these people's lives! Strip him of his toys and his hostages and we will see the scared little man within."
Mentis dodged another blaster bolt and deflected another, downing another droid in the process as they found themselves coming upon a line of battle droids just shy of Voq's position. He did not answer the Ithorian's comment, trusting that, as per his own metaphor, the slightly older man was aware of just how dangerous a threatened rat could be.
Still not out of her own metaphorical woods yet, despite her miraculous deliverance by a friend from the past, Jiljoo caught sight of one of Doctor Buhggs' electromagnetic grenades detonating ahead and, following its path back, quickly caught sight of the familiar H'nemthe scientist behind a now-smoking market stall off to the side of the plaza, rustling around his homemade grenade belt for another explosive.
The Twi'lek dove forwards and performed a somewhat inelegant role into the little sheltered market area. Almost colliding with the doctor himself.
"Oof!" she groaned slowly, before her eyes widened as she saw a shaky hand holding a blaster in her direction in front of a pair of terrified brown eyes set below a set of tightly-closed teeth.
She shot her hands up, "It iz' just me!" she exclaimed towards the familiar, although still irregular face of Yllib-Senob, "I got pinned down out there so had to run back!"
Buhggs, nearby, seemed to consider very quickly, in no more than a few fractions of a second, whether actually to do something against the Twi'lek in retribution as he trained his own weapon on her too, but the tall reptilian pulled his sidearm away and very boldly, almost casually, swung his top half above the cover and loosed a number of well-aimed shots towards their foes. A few blaster bolts peppered nearby, littering all three of them in small stones and ash. It seemed the mercurial scientist had come into his own during this conflict, although his white garb were heavily-stained with the trials of recent weeks.
"Mith Jiljoo!" Yllib-Senob declared loudly, struggling to get his shrill voice to carry above the din of combat, casting away his weapon almost immediately to try awkwardly embracing his friend. As he pulled away, a nervous smile stretched awkwardly across his misaligned face. One of his upturned eyes was heavily swollen to the point of barely opening, whilst it was clear a couple of his teeth had been recently smashed from his mouth, causing him to suffer an unfortunate lisping voice. Coppery orange-red blood, dried, also stained half of his face, leaving the typically cheery would-be sailor appearing decidedly dishevelled, and his dim, rustic charm was barely cutting through their grim circumstances. "Ith that thip on our thide?!"
"Their aim is almost as good as yours," Buhggs grumbled, changing the power pack on his weapon and priming some more grenades, which he was beginning to line up in the dirt alongside him. His sharp beady eyes shifted to Jiljoo. "If we don't all die, there's going to be nothing left of the Elenca.
Accepting the hug from the Ongree, she frowned, concerned at the state of her friend, before turning back to Buhggs, "A herd is about ze' people, not ze' place. Elenca will survive so long as we do and, my friends, we are not alone in zis' fight now!"
A twinge of tempered excitement had entered her voice and she pointed back towards the battle, "Mother Mozo's son Bomoor, the Jedi, has returned! He saved me out zere' and he will face zat' evil cyborg who took Llim and now our dear Mother!"
Yllib-Senob’s smile grew even wider, his eyes shining with hope and a hint of child-like enthusiasm. "Jedi Bomoor? He'th here?" He stuttered out, his teeth clicking together slightly as he tried to articulate his words around the swelling in his mouth. He looked like a kid who had just found out his hero had arrived at his name-day party. "Th-that’th fantathtic!"
Doctor Buhggs, however, remained unmoved, his expression a picture of scepticism. He glanced at Jiljoo, then at Yllib-Senob, before speaking. "Ah, yes. Let's throw more Ithorians at the demonic killbot with lightsabers." He paused, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure that's just what the galaxy needs. More Jedi playing hero. Maybe they'll cut down a couple of trees with those flashy sticks of theirs and save us all. Or," he added, his voice rising in pitch as he tossed a grenade into the fray, "maybe we should stick to the plan. You know, the one where we don't rely on ancient mystics to save our cones!"
Yllib-Senob, ever the optimist, gave Jiljoo a hopeful look. "But Jedi have the Forth!"
Doctor Buhggs snorted. "The 'Forth' hasn't done much good for-"
His remark was cut short, a singular blaster shot rang through the air, piercing the din of battle. Jiljoo's heart stopped as she watched the bolt of plasma streak straight into Yllib-Senob's chest. Time seemed to slow as she reached out, willing the universe to bend to her desperation. But it was too late. The blast hit him squarely and his body flung backwards, crumpling to the floor.
Buhggs's sarcasm disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, clinical precision. He swivelled and fired three shots into the direction of the sniper, his movements swift and precise.
The Twi'lek leapt towards the falling Ongree, just in time to support him as he collapsed to the ground.
"Oh my goodness!" she cried, feeling her heart pounding with adrenaline as though it was trying to launch itself out of her body as she lay his head down gently on her lap, "Doctor Buhggs! Ze' blast went right to his chest!"
Buhggs was already at Yllib-Senob's side, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled out a medkit from his utility belt. The smell of burnt flesh and melted plastic filled the air. "Can you hear me, sailor!?" He hissed as he worked, his voice unusually gentle.
The Ongree's eyes fluttered open, his vision blurring as he searched for Jiljoo's face. "Mith... Mith Jiljoo," he breathed heavily, blood seeping from his upturned mouth, flecks flying as he coughed.
Doctor Buhggs, his hands steady despite his racing thoughts, assessed the wound with clinical detachment. The plasma burn was severe, a charred crater in the centre of Yllib-Senob's chest, surrounded by a ring of blistered flesh. The blaster shot had cauterised the edges of the wound, preventing immediate exsanguination, but the damage was extensive. He grabbed a dermal regenerator and applied it to the wound, the device hissing as it worked to seal the burn and stabilise the patient. The smell of burnt flesh was thick in the air, and Jiljoo had to fight the bile rising in her throat.
Yllib-Senob's hand, trembling, reached up to grasp at the air, seeking the comfort of a friend's touch. His eyes, now glazed with pain, searched for Jiljoo's. He found Buhggs' hand, wrenched it from the regenerator and squeezed it weakly. His speech slurred from his damaged mouth as he kept sight on Jiljoo with his good eye, which fluttered. His grip on Buhggs' hand was weakening. He looked up at the Twi'lek, his expression a mix of pain and determination. "Th-the Jedi," he croaked, his voice barely audible over the battle's cacophony, "B-Bomoor...hath he...hath he thaved Mother Mozo?"
Before she could speak, a blast from the Corellian freighter strafing overhead sent a tremor through the ground, and a shower of dust and debris from a nearby explosion engulfed them. When the dust settled, they looked like ghosts caught in a macabre tableau. Buhggs's white scales and Jiljoo's pale Twi'lek skin took on an eerie pallor, while Yllib-Senob's wound was starkly crimson against the stark white dust.
Time seemed to slow and Jiljoo and Buhggs shared a glance of concern through the otherworldly dust that still clung in the air and upon their skin. The H'nemthe wordlessly shared his dire assessment of their companion's condition to her and tears began to well up in the young woman's eyes that fell to carve streaks down through the dust on her face.
She turned back down to Yllib-Senob's face on her lap, his eyes now peering up at hers with a pleading.
"I...don't know," she stammered, "But know zis': we are no longer alone. You are not alone!"
"We're here together now," came an all too familiar and reassuring stereoscopic voice from behind.
Jiljoo's tear-filled eyes flicked up and, for a moment, she felt another wave of relief like she had felt seeing Bomoor on the battlefield. Walking towards them, standing tall in spite of his own bruised and beaten appearance, was Llim, her shy but ever faithful companion that had been with their resistance group from the very beginning when fate (and Bruta Thort) had brought him to this very settlement so many months ago.
But he was certainly not alone; behind him was an assortment of individuals, many Ithorian but others of varying races, all carrying various bits of equipment and weaponry. One large Lasat male carried a portable energy shield, providing some cover for the group as they scurried towards their market hiding place, while an Ithorian brought up the rear firing some kind of electricity-projecting weapon that fired a crackling net of power that stunned a group of droids in a similar manner to Buhggs' grenades but across a wider and ore precise range.
The group looked familiar but they were not the rebels Jiljoo knew.
"L...Llim," the Twi'lek meant to shout but found her voice breaking, "Oh, you're safe. But, oh, poor Yllib. Ze' droids shot him."
Doctor Buhggs had been quiet, his beady eyes glistening as his placed a firm grip on Jiljoo's shoulder, drawing her attention back to their fallen friend. Yllib-Senob had been a simple soul, but his dedication to the people he cared for had been unmatched. In his own way, he had been as steadfast as any of the heroes they had ever heard about, living and dying for his friends and the world he had come to call home. Buhggs felt a twinge of sadness, but it was quickly buried under the weight of his usual skepticism and the urgency of the battle around them. He closed the medkit with a snap. "There's nothing we can do for him now," he said, his voice unusually gentle.
Jiljoo felt the sailor's hand grow limp and she held him tight and hunched over him.
"It's not fair!" she clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to wail in grief, "Why cannot zey' just let us be all together. Why do I gain one back just to loose another?"
Though conflict had forced Llim to mature a great deal in a short time, he still didn't have the right words to ease Jiljoo's sorrow. He instead gently placed a comforting hand on Jiljoo's shoulder and mourned with her.
With a final nod to his fallen friend, the doctor turned to face the new arrivals. "Ah, reinforcements. Just in time for the grand finale." He snatched up his blaster and slapped in a new power pack with a flourish. "Let's not make his sacrifice in vain, shall we?"
He then peered over the makeshift barricade, watching Bomoor and the mysterious pale Jedi cut a swath through the droids. They were a whirlwind of destruction, their lightsabers flashing in the dim light of the grove, leaving a trail of smoking metal in their wake. Despite his scepticism, he could not help but feel a glimmer of hope.
"Perhaps there is a chance after all, Miss Jiljoo," the doctor added, the additional title a purposeful choice, even against the backdrop of the battle raging about them.
Jiljoo turned her head slightly and wiped away her tears, smearing the dust on her face so she had a smudge from cheek to cheek.
"I will fight," she stated, "For Yllib-Senob, for all of us... For a free Öetrago."
A couple of the newcomers heard her and gave a rousing cheer. Looking at them again, she realised where she recognised them from: they were members of the Kavanu Herd, one of the non-migrating herds that settled just south of here. Their herd was known for their technological prowess, building and repairing ships and other machinery. That explained some of the gadgets they came equipped with. Seeing them here was a sign that their plight had reached further afield. Perhaps not all bought into GalactaWerks lies and manipulation.
The Lasat with the shield came and put a burly arm around her and gave her a firm shake, "Well said, little thing. Your friend Llim here sent out the call so I reckon you've got more friends than you know on their way."
Jiljoo looked back to Llim, her eyes still shimmering with tears, but now with a faint hope as well. He gave her an awkward thumbs up that she could not help but smile weakly at before turning around and taking a deep breath.
"Right zen'!" she furrowed her brow and raised her blaster in the air, "Like I said, for a free Öetrago!"
A short distance away, Bomoor was slowly fending off a mounting battalion of droids. As he cut one down, another was summoned in its place. He felt a growing anxiety, as the seconds ticked away as he sensed his mother just beyond his reach. He had been on the battlefield before for the Jedi, facing radicals, mercenaries and even droids like these before and he had always had confidence in his abilities and in the Force, particularly when Thane stood by his side. But now, he felt the situation slipping away and those calm Jedi teachings made way for frustration and doubt. He could not even summon the anger he had felt on Vaa.
Just behind, Mentis continued to tackle more foes. He was competent and skilled, but it was not enough to make a dent in the droids ahead as their number swelled. In moments like this, where everything practiced and proper let him down, there was one skill that shot into his mind; a faithful and primal ability that tapped into that deep desire of his to cast out all that would threaten the man and those he protected.
He took a firm stance on the Öetragan soil and, after a deep intake of breath, he released an almighty bellow even stronger than the one that had shaken the nightmarish visions on Tython. The great stream of Force-accentuated air, thrust away the surrounding droids with such power that those not stripped of chunks of their casing, were torn apart as they landed some distance away. The expulsion whipped the canopy off the command centre and a nearby tank was left overturned.
Bomoor looked ahead, seeing a clearer, although now muddier path to his objective. With another deep breath, he stepped forward towards the steps leading up to Voq and his mother. He was unaware that Mentis was now a distance behind, owing to the Ithorian's unexpected outburst. As he drew closer, he heard a deep chuckle and he saw the striking Devaronian figure striding towards the top of the steps, peering down at him in apparent amusement. He motioned to somewhere out of sight and the familiar sound of rolling destroyer droids became audible. Surely enough, a pair of the GWM-4 Series units unfurled themselves at the foot of the steps, instantly deploying their bubble-like shields and training their weapons on Bomoor.
"Got some strong pipes there, don't you?" Voq said with a diabolical soul-burning smile, his body even further augmented with cybernetics since their last encounter on Korriban. "Have you considered a career in the Coruscant opera scene. I bet you'd knock them all dead. Heh, heh, heh..."
His path blocked once again, Bomoor slowed, pointing his lightsaber forwards in a soresu stance towards Voq, a much more open stance than the man's usual form, although his eyes flicked swiftly to both the droids, lest he need to suddently defend against their weapon fire.
"Tolmin Voq!" he boomed, almost as though he was about t unleash another bellow, "Cultist of Axion and GalactaWerks freelance mercenary. I demand that you cease this illegal assault on the Elenca settlement and the unlawful imprisonment of their people."
The formality of his statement came naturally as it had so many times before as a Jedi. Negotiation had always come before hostilities, but what he stood to personally lose in this moment meant he had to resist the urge to simply charge forwards. Perhaps there was some small chance, however unlikely, that Voq would surrender. But, from what he had heard of the man, Bomoor was hardly going to trust a promise of surrender from the dark-sider. His swift defeat seemed the safest course of action for all involved.
"That stance," Voq began to say, interrupting himself with a brief laugh, "hahaha! How cute! The last time a Jedi did that in front of me, it didn't end well for 'im! Those idiots on the station over Korriban, let me tell you, they folded like rookie Sabacc players. We had a lot of fun that day. Say, where's old boy Mentis at? I found a nice spot to perch his head on a stick. It's the least I could do for an old 'friend'."
"I'm here Voq!" resonated a voice from behind, Mentis raised his arms in an open stance as he stood atop the downed body of a battle droid, "What's the matter? Not calling me 'Mint' any more? Are you even getting bored of your own nonsense now?"
The cyborg shrugged, keeping his attitude and poise nonchalant. "Not today," he replied, completely undeterred by Mentis' sudden appearance. "I'm all business here. No time for pleasure. But if you're that anxious to die, then that's no chip off my horns. Step right up!"
"Enough of this!" Bomoor's patience broke as the precious seconds ticked by in this battle. He thrust a hand down towards the ground and, as though commanded, the earth below the 'Droideka' to the left burst apart and the droid's shield began to short out as the earth began to surround it. The other destroyer began opening fire and Bomoor brought his raised saber down across his right side and redirected the volley of targeted fire through the faltering shield of its partner. The droid stopped firing, re-calculating its next move as the other droid succumbed to the fire and collapsed to the ground.
By this time, Mentis had jumped forwards and now stood beside Bomoor.
"That's a good trick," he nodded at the remains of the powerful droid, before drawing his weapon across himself, preparing for another attack.
Voq began a mocking round of slow clapping applause as he brazenly stepped up beside the remaining droid, unfazed by the shrapnel from the destroyed combat droid that struck his armored body.
"Not bad at all!" Voq said with a wry grin. "Almost as good as one of Kel's party tricks." He ceased his claps and folded his arms at his chest casually, making no moves to take up his saberstaff. "Now that you've huffed and puffed and knocked my droids down, kindly relieve yourselves of your weapons and surrender. I think this is the part where I'm supposed to say, 'you're under arrest!' Hahahaha."
Bomoor panted, the act of breaking the ground clearly more of an exertion than it initially appeared, "I said that was enough out of you."
He began striding forwards, but paused briefly to murmur back to Mentis, "There's a Tactical Droid up there. Take it out, while I deal with him."
Mentis nodded, but a worry bled into his gaze as he watched his new mentor continue to pace away and begin ascending the stairs. The remaining destroyer droid kept his weapons trained on the Ithorian but did not yet fire. When Bomoor was sufficiently far away, the machine snapped its attention back towards Mentis, who flinched slightly and raised his weapon up reflexively.
Voq had sunk back slightly from view as Bomoor began to approach and, at the top of the steps, Bomoor observed the small, but sophisticated command centre, now with no covering. At the rear sat the tactical droid, currently plumbed directly into the tactical console but keeping its gaze on Voq, awaiting direction, while part of its mind still commanded squadrons of droids across the battlefield. Voq leaned against a small table with a holoprojector in the centre and a series of datapads that had been strewn about with the recent auditory shockwave. Rising up from behind the platform was the great tree, still illuminated softly by the many lights hung in it over the years as well as some more recently-acquired blaster burns.
Absent, however, was the one being he desperately wanted to see alive and well: his mother.
"You know, it's a funny thing, that body language," Voq spoke in a lower and more serious, less showboating tone. "You're looking at the tree, searching for something, but you're not seeing what's really there. Think about how bad you want to hurt me. Focus on that. All that negative mumbo jumbo. The stuff that turns your shouts into power. And then look again. You have my soldier's honour I won't try anything funny. I have no need to draw on you or try some cheap shot with the Force. I want you to see it...to see her."
"What does that mean?" Bomoor's eyes narrowed, but looked back towards the tree as directed, before shooting wide again. There she was: Mumin Mozo, tied ungracefully to the trunk of the tree, arms held apart and suspended in the air like some floating spectre. It had been years since he had seen her but he would recognise his mother anywhere, even in such a state.
How could I not see her? he thought, his heart dropping as he saw the chain of explosives also set around her, wired together stretching down to an even larger cluster of explosives at the base of the tree. He had turned the great tree, a symbol of hope in nature and the Mother Jungle, into a bomb. This man was truly vile.
"Do you see the cute little amulet on her chest?" Voq asked, his diabolic glee rising. "That's a house special from Lord Axion himself. We were hiding her in plain sight with it. I'm told it's a tricky thing to look past, even for Jedi, unless you invite a taste of hatred over for dinner into your soul. Oh lookie, I think she's waking up. Have a chat with yer mummie."
Mumin's eyes flickered and opened, perhaps hearing Bomoor's voice or sensing some recognition of him through her own latent Force connection.
"My Bomoor," her voice was clear and surprisingly calm as she sighted him, a warmth beaming through as though none of this evil was occurring around her, "I knew you were not lost; you heard my call in that dark place and have come back to me."
Bomoor went to speak, finding words failing him as he saw her, but finding some of his anger draining as she spoke directly to him. But that moment soon past as the Devaronian's voice cut through again.
"Oh, how touching!" Voq mocked him. "In case you're wondering, those bombs are a special recipe from yours truly. I took the latest thermite formula GW has and made it extra spicy. They burn almost as hot as a lightsaber, and they're linked to my vital signs. If I go, so does she. So...I think surrender is the reasonable choice, and I can be reasonable. I'm willing to let her live, but you have to make these rebels back off and give me Mentis. The Cult has unfinished business with him."
Bomoor's gaze shot back to the cyborg, "How dare you come to this world, these people, and defile their culture? Long did I suffer the lie that the Jedi were my people and that I should renounce Öetrago, my true family and people. I swear, you will not take an inch more from this land. You shall not have my mother, you shall not have Mentis..."
He flicked his blade forwards, angling his body now fully towards Tolmin, "And you shall not have mercy. That time has passed."
"You hear that, mother dearest?!" Voq called out to Mumin as he drew his weapon. "Your boy threw away his Jedi title and still thinks he's a hero. Hahahaha! This is rich!" He ignited both crimson blades of his saberstaff and twirled them in a brief effortless flourish as he set himself in a modified Form-III pose. "I like you, Thort," he added to Bomoor with a sneer. "Fire in yer heart and hypocrisy in yer head. Just like the politicians. Droids! Deal with Mentis over there and anyone else that shows up. We'll burn this whole world to ashes when I'm done with this fool."
TBC
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BOMOOR
▬ Force Bellow Increase
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