Brothers

[TheDrunkenConsular]

First - That was amazingly done!  Well written and the characters are quite vivid.  The writing is engaging and I loved the interplays, especially around D'Aylanna and her background with Edda.  :-)

As for Faradi...  She's scary.  Very scary.  Rakham's anger and cold application of the threat also shows he is 100% on board with the methods being used.  It would probably not be good for Karmack to get to know these folks to well.  I ... don't think they'd get along well...

Everything is not always as it seems 

[TheDutchman]

Thanks again everyone!

Special props for TDC for trusting me with not only his characters but also his SW continuity 

[Karmack]

Everything is not always as it seems 

Oh, I'd be disappointed if it were!  :-) 

[TheDrunkenConsular]

I'm not dead, bois and girls, I just wish I was.

CHAPTER 23: Power

     The door to Rakham and Dala’s quarters was open, but Faradi knocked anyway before he entered.  Rakham’s desk faced the door, but he was deep in thought, and the knock startled him.
     “Please, Faradi, come in.”  He said, looking up from the desk, and the mask he’d been studying so intently.  Faradi obliged, walking in and sitting across from him.
     “How are you doing, Master?”  He asked pointedly, picking up the mask on the desk and turning it over in his long, spindly green fingers.
     “Well, my wife and one of my dearest friends are in bacta tanks and there’s a shadow organization with more power than we know trying to kill us all.  So, all things considered, I could be happier.”
     “That isn’t quite what I mean, Master.  Have you perceived any changes in your personality, or in the way you view things?”
      Rakham sighed.  “What do you mean, Faradi?”
      “Over the past few weeks, Master, you’ve become… colder.  Crueler.  You seemed to take joy in what I did to the Revenant earlier today.  The man I have served for these past years would have considered such things unnecessarily barbaric.”  Faradi said, choosing his words carefully.
      “You don’t think that’s justified, considering our circumstances?  Do you believe that we should be coddling our enemy rather than destroying them?”  Rackham was beginning to grow an angry, an unusual thing for the normally level headed man.
       “Of course I don’t, but that’s just it, I never would.  You, one the other hand, have always believed that mercy is the best path.”
        “So you believe me a coward?” Rakham snarled, bolting to his feet.  His hand brushed the lightsaber at his side,but Faradi remained seated.
       “No, Master, but I suspect that you are being affected by an outside influence.  This behavior is not at all like you.”  Faradi said firmly, but calmly.  A look of confusion passed subtly over Rakham's face, and he collapsed back into his chair.
       “You’re right.  Please, forgive me.”  He said, a new wave of stress washing over him as he considered his recent actions through an objective lense.  “What do you suspect is the cause?  Is this the Revenant’s doing?”
       “That is one possibility, Master, but I find myself more inclined to believe that the culprit is closer to home.”  He held up the mask he’d been toying with since he sat down.  “This artifact was never catalogued, and thus, never tested.  I understand that desperate times call for desperate measures, but we have no idea what this… thing could be capable of.  I’ll have to take it and run some tests.”
       “Not yet, Faradi.  We need it for the assault.”  Rakham said, his eyes narrowing. 
       “Master, you will not be participating in any assault until I understand your condition and the effects of this mask on it’s holder.”  Faradi replied evenly.
       “What?  You don’t have the authority to make that decision!”  Rakham fumed, his anger building again, only adding to Faradi’s concern.
       “We do, brother.”  Nadia said softly from the doorway, with Berra standing over her shoulder.  “Something is wrong with you, but Faradi will fix it.  It will only take a week or two, and in the meantime, Berra and D’Aylanna will scout out the location the Revenant woman gave us.”
       Again, Rakham’s anger faded to melancholy.  He stood and walked around the desk.  If one didn’t know better, they might believe that they’d seen Faradi flinch just a tiny bit as Rakham clasped a hand on his shoulder. 
       “I’m sorry, Faradi.  Do what you have to do.”

…

     Faradi had been in the laboratory for twelve hours, poring over the mask.  Any Force adept could feel the power emanating from the artifact, but under his instruments it practically hummed with energy.  In order to test a theory, he’d placed two devices of his own invention near the mask.  Each of them was a crystal that faintly pulsed with light, socketed into a silver sleeve holding an array of dials and knobs.  These were not normal crystals, however.  They were Force sensitive Shard crystals, one of them imbued with Light energy.  This was to test Faradi’s initial hypothesis, which was that the mask twisted light energy.  Already, the crystal was showing faint readings that confirmed the theory.  However, it was the other crystal that intrigued Faradi, for this one was empowered with Darkness, but showed the same readings; it’s darkness was lessened by proximity to the mask.  Faradi considered for a moment, then picked up a small spider droid from the table and began to speak to it.

…

     Teks was perhaps not the most stable Templar.  There was very little about her past that the green eyes, light haired woman could remember, and most what she could remember wasn’t very nice.  In combat, she was not a master swordsman, and in the Force she was adept but not a prodigy by any means.  However, sometimes, she just knew things, and she wasn’t entirely sure how or why.  She had known how to find the bar on Nar Shadaa, and she had known to speak with Nadia Stark.  She had known about the Templar Order, but she hadn't known that that knowledge would get her in trouble.  Of course, she let them read her mind, and when they realized that she wasn’t an enemy, they allowed her to stick around.  She knew that it was only so that they could keep an eye on her.  She did not know, but she believed that she may have done some bad things in the times that she couldn’t remember, and she believed that the Templar Masters knew that.
       
     At the moment, however, none of that concerned her, as her bright green eyes focused on a Dejarik table.  Across from her, Rawbacca sat with a furrowed brow.  He’d been backed into a corner, his last Rancor surrounded by Teks’ three pieces.  Rawbacca made the move that Teks had suspected, and charged the piece in the middle with his Rancor, opening it’s flanks to her other pieces, which made quick work of the holographic monster.  Rawbacca roared angrily, and had he been more perspective he may have seen the small grin play over his opponent’s lips.  She did not say anything however, and stood to leave, before a little eight-legged messenger droid tapped one of it’s metal feet on her boot and began to play a message in Faradi’s voice.
       “Madame, I hope not to inconvenience you, but I need your help with an experiment.  Assuming you aren’t otherwise occupied, do you suppose you could make your way to the laboratory?  Thank you.”
       Teks regarded the machine for a moment, and decided that whatever Faradi wanted from her probably wasn’t much more unpleasant than having her arms ripped off by an angry Wookiee.

…

      Within the hour, Teks found herself sitting in a comfortable chair in the laboratory, with electrodes all over her body, all of them leading to arrays of complex instruments, with Faradi dancing around them, muttering under his breath and occasionally offering words of encouragement to Teks.
      “The hard spot is almost done, dear one.”  He said, as he finally finished calibrating his last instrument.  “All that’s left is to record the readings, and… done!” He gave her a beaming, gold-spotted smile and began to carefully but quickly remove his electrodes.  “You always have been a quiet one, haven’t you?”  He remarked amicably.  She hadn’t said a word since arriving, only responding to his questions by grunting or shaking her head.  “No bother, I can be chatty enough for us both.  Now, remember, I need you to stay in my guest room here at the lab for the next few days, that way I can keep an eye on you and be sure that these tests have no negative effects on you.  Wouldn't want you getting hurt now, would we?”
      He helped her to her feet, and ushered her into the small but cozy quarters attached to the lab, and unceremoniously dumped the Mask into her hands.
       “Alright, I need you to wear this, alright?  Try and relax, and I’ll come check up on you in a bit.”
       With that, he unceremoniously shut the door and marched to one of the cluttered desks spotting the laboratory.  His objective was a holopad, which was connected to a machine, which was connected to the two Shard devices, which were connected to the electrodes which had previously been connected to Teks.  The information on the pad confirmed what any Force sensitive could tell instinctually; there was something very, very dark hiding in that woman’s soul.

…

     Rakham was sitting behind his desk with a sorrowful look on his face.  In front of him sat a mostly full bottle of agavinol, a glass tumbler and the bent silver lightsaber hilt he’d picked up so long ago at the Jedi Archive.  He picked up the weapon and turned it over in his hands, examining it from the pronged emitter to the macehead pommel.  It was a little more worn now that it had been all those years ago when he picked it up in the Jedi Temple.  As they often did in times like this, his thoughts drifted to that day.  He’d been barely more than a boy when the Jedi were destroyed, but he was still certain that he would never become accustomed to the world as it was now.  Things had been so simple, then.  There was nothing more to his life but waking up in the morning and going on adventures with his brother, helping people and seeing all the beauty of the galaxy.  There had been wars, but they were foolish squabbles between governments, not his wars, where his friends died.  Now, he was locked into a fight for survival, and it seemed like every decision he made took him two steps backwards for every step forward and left more and more of the people he loved in the ground.  He sat the lightsaber down gently, and took a sip of the golden liquid before reaching for his clay pipe and leather pouch of sweet tabacc.  He was ready to end this conflict, but he had to figure out how.  He only knew that the first thing he was going to have to do was retake control of himself.

CHAPTER END

[TheDutchman]

Good to see you TDC!  Welcome back 

Leave it to Faradi to figure out that Rakham's moods aren't exactly natural... And that's not even considering the personal losses that he's had to contend with...

I am loving this story TDC!  I can't wait to see where you take us next 

[Lord_S_Gray]

Teks back story is interesting....what little we know...and she knows...I have some suspicions that she may have spent more time in Faradi's lab than she realises.  Anyway loved the ending snippet, Rackham has been following the old 'when fighting monsters be careful you don't become one' path a bit too closely, hopefully he can re focus now Dala is (relatively) safe.   

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 24: Hard Truths, Part I

Now…
As the hyperspace tunnel collapsed, the blueshift of lightspeed gave way first to starlines and then to individual star-points.  Fenris’ Dirge smoothly entered into an intercept vector straight at the main planet in the system of the same name: Taris.   The Hapan-made Mandalorian Infiltrator was the perfect ship for a covert strike: with the proliferation of Mando mercenaries—especially operating on Taris proper—the arrival of such a ship would be taken as a matter of course.  This, coupled with a Mando IFF transponder courtesy of Hit Squad, was all the subterfuge that the mission intrusion required.

Within the main hanger bay, D’Aylanna Vih’Torr and Berra Tarun each stood at the front of a single file line, comprising of a Hit Squad Fireteam, four members apiece.  The Darksider Templar, Teks, was sitting off to the side, as silent as she was enigmatic, perusing one of the dataterminals as she ran safety-checks on her sniper rifle, Teks’ pale face and blonde hair a stark contrast to her black tactical utilities.  A black satchel hung from her shoulder, one that Teks hadn’t let out of her sight in the entire time on Fenris’ Dirge.  They would be fast-roping down; as such, they would take advantage of the ship’s eight drop gates instead of the main hatch in the rear.  Each member of the Hit Squad Fireteam would first repel down and establish a perimeter, quickly followed by Berra and D’Aylanna.  Once in the Undercity, Teks would disembark separately, doing the initial recon and then establishing overwatch for the two groups.  Jorya would pilot Fenris’ Dirge to hover at a safe distance, both to assist Teks as well as for exfil.

“…Mother…I need for you to check out forward viewer.  I…I’m not sure what to do…”  Jorya’s normally composed voice sounded a little unsteady, giving D’Aylanna pause.  Without a word, the small Hapan woman keyed one of the holoprojector’s on the bulkhead.  Almost immediately, D’Aylanna could understand her daughter’s trepidation.

Orbiting between the second and third moons of Taris was a star dreadnought, 19 kilometers in length.  Different from the craft that D’Aylanna and Jorya had seen at the Kuat Drive Yards, this ship lacked the volume and keel depth of the black behemoth, the Eclipse.  A twin to Vader’s Executor, this dreadnought belonged to the self-proclaimed “Warlord of the Empire,” Admiral Zsinj.

“It’s the Iron Fist.”  D’Aylanna exclaimed.  She wondered what it was doing so far from Zsinj’s capitol, the planet Serenno.  “…Taris is one of the inexpensive places for the Iron Fist to resupply; it’s directly on the Hydian Way and a straight-shot to Serenno.”  Or so D’Aylanna hoped.  But it made sense: not only was the Hydian Way the local super-hyperspace route leading to-and-from Serenno, but indeed the only route that passed through the entire galaxy.  “You’re doing fine, Jorya.  Remember: we’re just another inconspicuous light-freighter of Mando mercs.”  She reassured her daughter, momentarily opening herself to the Force, gently caressing her to supplement and strengthen.  After a moment, she felt Jorya return her own feelings (along with her gratitude) in kind.

“Everything OK, D’Aylanna?”  Berra’s voice was concerned.  And while her senses were extraordinarily uncanny given her Miralukan ancestry, it also meant that she was quite literally blind; instead of eyes, a plain blindfold covered the upper half of her face, including the vestigial eye sockets.  Still: D’Aylanna had seen Berra in the worst of circumstances—including combat—and had always come out victorious.  It was testament that she was the other Force-user besides D’Aylanna leading the strikeforce on Taris.  And D’Aylanna knew that Berra’s expertise with a lightsaber surpassed even her own.

All the meanwhile, Teks continued to service her weapon, although now her attention was diverted between her dataterminal, the sniper rifle, and the holoprojection of the super star destroyer.  When D’Aylanna answered Berra, she noticed Teks’ green eyes stared unflinchingly at her.

“The Iron Fist is parked at the Lagrange points between the second and third moon.  Our shipping lane passes close enough to it that Jorya was concerned; I assured her that her fears were groundless.”  While D’Aylanna’s face and demeanor were completely calm, inside she wanted to raise the formidable shields of Fenris’ Dirge…except that this would compromise their cover, to say nothing of the mission.  Still: no need to—

“Excuse me, ma’am?  I believe I may know what’s going on.”  With his helmet underneath his arm, Lieutenant Jorsk Un-Haku looked like the professional warrior that he was.  After news of Marz’s unfortunate death, the members of Hit Squad went into mourning…Mandalorian style.  For 38 hours—one hour for every one of the recognized Mando clans—every single member of Hit Squad (and their honored “family” such as the rest of the Templars) celebrated and hard.  With loud music and harder liquor, they related tales of Marz’s deeds, especially those of his courage, strength, and, often times, insanity.  And far from the somber affair that many cultures practiced concerning the death of a family member, the Hit Squad believed in the teachings of the Akaanati'kar'oya, celebrating one of their Sacred Own on his way to the Six C’oelum, the Mandalorian paradises of the afterworld, each representing one of the “Six Actions” of Mando’a doctrine.

And as one of the ranking members of Hit Squad, Lieutenant Un-Haku was offered the captaincy (or more precisely the position of “chieftain”) to take Marz’s place.  He refused.  Instead, he dedicated himself to the Hit Squad’s “Shadow Operations” and covert tactics.  As such, he was the one in command of the two Fireteams that had accompanied Berra, Teks, and D’Aylanna.

“Rhydonium.”  He stood tall before both women, looking intently at them.

“…Sorry Jorsk but…what?”  Berra’s familiarity with the man was evident in her tone.  He turned to the Miraluka, his face softening…if durasteel could be said to do so.

“Pardon, Lady Tarun.  I believe the reason that the Iron Fist is here is for the contents of Taris’ second moon.  That is, rhydonium.  Zsinj would need it to refuel his flagship…and the second moon has plenty of it.”  He glanced back at the holofeed, the activity around the dreadnought constant.  Slowly nodding, the diminutive Hapan woman slowly spoke.

“Good thinking, Jorsk.”  D’Aylanna sighed.  “Looks like we’re about to find out…” she said quietly.  Without deviating from her course, Jorya piloted Fenris’ Dirge on a close fly-by.  Ten kilometers out.  They could now see individual craft swarming around the Iron Fist, mostly TIE Interceptors and the occasional Avenger.  5 kilometers.  Several freighters waited patiently in the space lane leading to the main hanger of the ship.  One kilometer.  The Iron Fist took up the entire ‘feed while in the cockpit, Jorya witnessed firsthand the incredible panoramic of the super star destroyer as it filled the canopy.  Then Fenris’ Dirge was literally on top of the dreadnought.

And flew by without so much as a single hail.

Jorya kept heading inward towards the planet Taris, unchallenged and unmolested.  Everyone aboard let out a collective sigh of relief.  “Past.  Rendezvous at Sector 35874, Substrate Forn.  ETA: 3 minutes; Taris time approximate: zero one twenty-six, local.”  The Togruta said over team comms.  Speeding toward the planet on an intercept trajectory, everyone within the infiltrator felt primed, their thoughts foremost upon the scouting mission that Rakham had tasked them with after what they’d learned, both from the Revenant Wraith and later from Nadia…

                        <<<<< >>>>>

Then…
“I’ve called you all here as I’ve finally ascertained the particulars concerning the provenance of the Revenant…” Faradi said casually as he cleaned a seemingly innocuous looking metal rod, 20 centimeters in length.  And although his heavily scarred face was free of any blood, the utilitarian dark smock that he wore looked as if it had been drenched, the overspray staining his sleeves and collar.  D’Aylanna noticed that behind the Twi’lek a severed arm twitched reflexively beneath the black towel that only partially covered it.  Looking into the holding tank, D’Aylanna also noticed that the Wraith was once again submerged in the water, cable tethers running to her neck, groin, ankles, and wrists.  Well, wrist, she was missing her right arm at the shoulder although the Hapan woman could tell that the limb was already regenerating, albeit slowly.  She focused on Faradi again once he began speaking.

Standing around the room, Rakham, Heddit, and D’Aylanna had been joined by Berra as Faradi had called for all Templars still not recovering from their treatment at the hands of the Revenant.  Picking up a serrated saw, Faradi continued as he cleaned the blood and flesh stuck between the teeth.  “The Revenant chart their origins back to the Jedi Civil War, only then they were the Revanchist…or at least a remnant of the order.  These so-called ‘Jedi Crusaders’ became the Republic’s unofficial—although not unsanctioned—Mercy Core.”  At this, Faradi quietly laughed to himself.  “…Ironically, the Jedi Council of the time would not allow Jedi to fight against the Mandalorians, at least not openly.  Jedi Master Revan…sidestepped this little detail, claiming that the Revanchist were no longer ‘Jedi.’  And so: the Mercy Core was formed from volunteers—not conscripts—and the Council’s prohibitions against Jedi participating were effectively and largely ignored.”

Rakham silently nodded as he stroked his dark beard.  “So…you’re telling me that the Revenant have been around for almost four thousand years?  And they’ve never been heard of before this?”  The tall man didn’t even bother to mitigate his incredulous tone.

Faradi smiled patiently, as if he had anticipated the question.  “Officially, no.  When the Mandalorian Wars finally ended, it gave rise to a new Sith Empire, one that was first controlled by Darth Malak…and later, Revan himself.”  He paused, allowing the revelation to sink in.

“So that’s how Revan came to power; the Republic’s historical archives are…taciturn regarding certain details surrounding the Mandalorian Wars and Revan’s Sith Empire…” D’Aylanna mused.  “…But what about the Revenan…the Revanchist?  They would not have all followed Revan or Malak to the Dark Side…”

Faradi smiled.  “My lady, you are both correct…and mistaken.  During the last of the fighting on Malachor V after Revan had effectively exiled the Mandalorians, he and Malak left for…places unknown, at least to myself…although there were whispers that the ancient Sith Emperor had broken them both, shaping them into an image of Himself.  Whatever the truth, Darth Revan returned and most of the Revanchist took up his banner as Sith.”  The Twi’lek became pensive.  “Some did not; certainly the most famous of these was the so-named ‘Jedi Exile,’ Meetra Surik.  But some other Revanchist decided to follow their own path, namely, the quest for immortality.”  Pointedly, Faradi indicated the prisoner within the depravation tank.  “You’ve seen the ability that some Revenant are able to rejuvenate even mortal wounds despite the severity.  And according to the subject, the Revenant are close to perfecting it.  Once they’ve done so, they shall be nigh unstoppable…”  Even for as imperturbable as Faradi usually was, his tone echoed the trepidation that they all felt.

Quietly, Heddit spoke into the silence.  “Fine.  The Revenant are…were Revanchist.  What the hell does that have to do with us?”  Unconsciously, he ran his cybernetic hand through his unkempt brown hair.  His yellow eyes turning hard, Faradi looked directly at Heddit.

“This group has been searching for the secrets of immortality for millennia.  And during that time, they’ve had many members.  Well…the subject finally let slip a name of an errant, former member that, along with a splinter group, absconded with many of the artifacts that the Revenant had collected during those centuries.”  The Twi’lek looked deliberately at Rakham, saying a single name, like a pronouncement.  “Kadmaur.”

Rakham closed his eyes, exhaling.  “…Shavit… You’re cert—of course you’re sure.”  The tall man scrubbed at his eyes and not just to dispel the blurriness.  Faradi continued, picking up a small, silver book inlaid with strange markings, the same book that D’Aylanna had recovered from the defeated Wraith.

“This tome corroborates the subject’s story as well as filling in many of the details that I’ve told you.  And while my own translations are far from complete, I assure you that my interpretation of the book’s ancient linguistics is accurate.”  Faradi seemed to take the last to heart, almost as a personal affront.  Berra broke the silence, her voice delicate as the filtered light of the room played upon her light olive features.

“Master Faradi, what happened?  You said that Kadmaur and a ‘splinter group’ had taken the Force relics.  What became of them?”  Even with the blindfold, Berra’s face radiated concern.

Faradi slowly inhaled.  “With exception of…or rather, including Kadmaur…dead, to a person.  And although I’ve no proof, I believe from what Master Rakham has told me, that soon afterwards, Kadmaur rejoined the Jedi.  ‘Strength in numbers’ and the like…”  Again he fell silent, quietly contemplating while he absentmindedly fidgeted with the small silver book in his hand.  Then, his eyes focusing upon the Revenant book, he looked pointedly at everyone within the room.

“The subject was most forthcoming with these histories.  That, combined with the information within this book, has yielded a wealth of information… But I’m afraid that I’ve not yet discerned our next target.”  Faradi looked to Rakham, apologizing.  “Forgive me, master.  I’ve yet to discover the Revenant’s center of operations.”  He nodded towards the Wraith.  “…And the subject claims to not know where Annoura has based the Revenant.”  Again, Faradi looked pained.  “...Master…forgive me.  I know that she’s holding something back…but in this particular incident, I’m afraid that I believe her.  She doesn’t know.”

Rakham put a hand on the Twi’lek’s shoulder, a comforting look on his face.  “I know, Faradi.  There’s no way that tralk could hide something of that magnitude from you.  And great job getting that book translated.  I’m just sorry that my eyes are still healing; something…familiar about what you told me…something… Well, you can wish in one hand or feed the sarlacc and see which fills up first…”  Gathering everyone else within the room together with a look, he said.  “Come with me.  I’m waiting to hear back from Nadia and until that time, I’ve got some plans that we need to go over…”

             <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 24: Hard Truths, Part II

Now…
After fast-roping down to the surface, the two Fireteams made quick work of penetrating deeper into the depths, despite the decrepit state of the urban ruins that littered the landscape of the Upper Levels of Sector 35874, Substrate Forn.  While the human populace of Taris was densely packed in both the Upper- and Lower-City, the Fireteams deftly avoided as much contact as possible.  Those that they did come across…were merely left wondering as the Mandos ran past them without a word.  And as they descended, the dilapidation of the buildings and surroundings became worse and more noticeable.

“Mistresses, once we reach the Undercity, I must caution you…where we are heading, it will be crawling with rakghouls.”  Lieutenant Un-Haku’s quiet voice mirrored the hard look upon his dusky face as he addressed the Templar and Gray women.  “Whatever you do, don’t let them touch you; just a bite or a scratch…”  For a moment he paused.  He was a brave man but…the rakghoul plague was an enemy that the Mandalorians could not fight.  Indeed it was testament of their character that all members of the two Fireteams were volunteers and knew what perils awaited them in the Taris Undercity.

Berra put a comforting hand upon the tall Hit Squad lieutenant’s armored bicep, the other Fireteam members busy with the directional thermal detonators placed along the ground.  “Jorsk…thank you.”  She smiled, her entire face lighting up despite the ancestral blindfold that the Miralukan wore.  Visibly relaxing, Jorsk quickly smiled down at Berra.

D’Aylanna noticed the subtle interplay between the two and suppressed a smile of her own.  Clearly, the two were much more than friends…

“Fire in the hole.”  One of the other Mandalorians softly warned, recalling D’Aylanna to the present.  Plugging her ears while opening her mouth, she huddled behind the cover of the bulkhead along with the other members of the reconnaissance team.  The muffled reports of multiple explosions shook the ground as shockwaves spread out from the detonations.  After a moment, one of the Mando’s gave the “all clear” and the two Fireteams set belay lines in preparation for their descent.

As soon as the last Mando’s boots hit the ground, they activated their smart nylasteel ropes as they self-coiled.  Setting up a perimeter with six members of the Fireteams, the rest in the center put their heads together for last-minute orders.

“Sergeant Alvai, you will take Besh with Mistress Vih’Torr along the southside of the avenue; I will head out with Aurek supporting Mistress Tarun northside.”  Lieutenant Un-Haku instructed.  As he was speaking, the Darksider Templar Teks disappeared, swallowed by the shadows of the Undercity without a trace of her presence.

Moving out, both Fireteams were virtually silent as they double-timed through the shadow-filled causeways leading towards the tallest structure in the vicinity: a ziggurat standing almost as high as the hard rooftop/underfloor of Lower City.  All around them, a grinding cacophony was constant against the decaying urban backdrop, the noise accompanying them while they closed the distance towards the step-pyramid, the last Revenant base.  Even though there were multiple sources, the light seemed…suppressed.

D’Aylanna had opened herself fully in the Force, projecting her presence outward, aiding her lack of low-light vision.  On the periphery of her senses, she could feel Berra and—much further—Teks do likewise.  She had her lightsaber hilt in hand, ready at a moment’s notice to ignite.  She could feel multiple lifeforms both in front and behind them, but none within their direct path.  But one and all, they exhibited the wild emotions of non-sentients within the Force.  …Rakghouls… D’Aylanna thought.

Silently, they made their way along the causeways, avoiding any contact.  Racing through the twilight illumination, they all saw signs of dereliction and abandonment, at least empty of all sentient life; the rotting buildings were covered with a strange bioluminescent moss and a putrid, reeking sludge that reacted adversely to the movement of the Fireteams’ passage.  

Suddenly, Berra’s voice came over the comms.  “There’s a small group almost directly in front of Aurek, all non-sentient.”  When she spoke next, her tone was tentative.  “…I don’t think that they are aware of us but…something… Something doesn’t feel right."  As soon as the last word had come from the Miraluka’s mouth, Jorsk’s baritone came over the comms.

“Agreed.  Aurek, form up on me, surrounding Mistress Tarun.”  There was a momentary pause.  “Mistress Teks?  Have you established overwatch, ma’am?”  Despite the gravity of the situation, Jorsk’s voice was calm and measured.

“Affirmative,” came the single, almost whispered word.  Teks.  “…Standby.”  Even though D’Aylanna couldn’t see or sense her, the Hapan woman felt better knowing that the unseen Darksider Templar was covering them.

She felt it before anything else, an…itch in the Force.  But even before D’Aylanna could give word, Berra’s shout came over comms.  “Ambush!  Rakghoul!”

D’Aylanna turned to the female Mandolorian sergeant as Besh Squad moved as one.  “Sergeant Alvai, keep your squad behind me and on my flank.  I’ll line them up for your shots.”  Before she got too far ahead, D’Aylanna heard Alvai respond, her voice professional with just a touch of anticipation.

“Understood, ma’am.”  And with that, Besh Squad sped towards Aurek’s position.  What greeted them was a nightmare: having somehow flanked Aurek, the Squad was a lone island amidst a sea of rabid rakghouls, a virtual ocean of filthy, grotesque bodies that fought on mindlessly in an attempt to overwhelm the Fireteam.

But Hit Squad was prepared.  The team showed extreme fire discipline, picking off those rakghouls that strayed too close to their elevated position with their blaster rifles while the heavy-weapons specialist lay down a suppressing fire with a heavy repeater.  Below and in front, Berra’s teal lightsaber was a wall of death, impenetrable against the tide of bodies that had thus far failed to get close.  And with sniper support from Teks on overwatch, Aurek was doing well.

However, D’Aylanna knew that Aurek held a tenable position.  The mindless fury of the rakghoul could only be kept at bay for so long, at least against a single Fireteam.  But she had plans; en route to the ambush site, D’Aylanna had given instructions to Besh concerning what she wanted for them to do.  And like the consummate professionals that they were, the Hapan woman smiled tightly as Fireteam Besh set up position and went to work.  After taking adequate cover, Besh Squad formed up a pincer and opened fire.  Caught between the two Fireteams, the rakghoul in the rear turned…only to be burned down amid overlapping fields of fire.  Furthermore, Berra and D’Aylanna worked their sabers, cutting entire swathes of rakghoul down.  

But even with the element of surprise, their elevated position, and fire superiority, the rakghoul horde soon threatened to bread through.  Lieutenant Un-Haku and Sergeant Alvai pulled their Fireteams close, all eight creating a perimeter and laying down suppressing fire outward.  Both heavy-weapons specialists burned through three fully-charged packs within minutes.  And still the rakghouls came.

Suddenly, one of the Hit Squad mercs, Corporal Irris Caballa, was grabbed and bodily dragged from the formation before her teammates could react, her shouts echoing under her Mandalorian helmet and becoming increasingly panicked.  Berra projected as powerful a Force Push as she could and prepared to cut down any of the creatures that got in her way.  But before she could move, a strong yet gentle hand clamped down upon her shoulder, stopping her.  Jorsk’s quiet voice came from behind her head.  “Mistress…look.”

No sooner had his hand grabbed Berra’s shoulder than the rakghouls converged again on Corporal Caballa, taloned hands tearing at her limbs, her helmet ripped from her head.  As soon as Caballa’s head was fully in the light, everyone could see that she had several lacerations bleeding profusely, the red blood already darkening to black.  Several of the creatures had bitten deeply between the armored plates in the exposed neck-, elbow-, and knee-joins.  Berra knew that any further attempt to rescue was a useless gesture.

Even as Corporal Caballa screamed, her voice began to change becoming harsh, unintelligible, and guttural.  Her pale features took on a deep brown hue, the veins in her face turning black.  Her cheeks tore themselves open, an enormous mouth splitting her bulbous head.  With sickening, wet pops, her eyes began to shift to the side of her head, finally exploding from their sockets as the holes sealed shut while the…thing that used to be Irris Caballa keened hauntingly.  With loud clangs, the Mandalorian armor hit the ground as the changing body of the newly-formed rakghoul sloughed off the human flesh that was no longer attached to the rough reptilian hide underneath.  Of Corporal Caballa, there was nothing left.

Seeing what happened to Irris was bad enough; D’Aylanna wondered what it was that Berra had sensed, seeing the Miraluka violently shudder.  “…Jorsk…do what you can…please.”  Berra’s voice was steady, soft, with an undercurrent of durasteel.  With measured movements, her lightsaber scythed in wide arcs, giving the Hit Squad lieutenant the necessary time to throw one of the thermal detonators from his belt with pinpoint accuracy.  By now, the rakghoul had congregated again and started to surge forward, despite Teks’ expert sniping.  Precious seconds passed after the words “Fire in the hole!” had left Jorsk’s lips.

The shockwave felled everything in a radius of 50 meters, vaporizing the rakghoul horde up to 35 meters.  It had been danger-close…but effective.  And necessary.  The only living rakghoul were quickly dealt with as Teks and Hit Squad burned them down; any that got close were fodder for Berra’s and D’Aylanna’s sabers.

“Aurek, Besh, pull back to the Temple.  Now!”  Even though Jorsk’s voice was soft, everyone could hear the urgency in it.  At a run, the Fireteams sped towards the ziggurat.  They did not stop until they all took shelter in the lone entrance, both Berra and D’Aylanna reliant upon the Force to tell them if anyone else lay in front of them.  They sensed no one.

Gulping deep breaths, both Aurek and Besh took turns on perimeter and drinking from their canteens.  Replacing spent powerpacks, every member of Hit Squad readied themselves behind Berra and D’Aylanna, the two Jedi now taking the lead that Hit Squad had gotten them to their objective.

“Sergeant Alvai, take command of the Fireteams, split into two-by-twos; lieutenant…you’re coming with us.”  D’Aylanna stoically intoned.  “Hit Squad needs must cover our egress.  Mistress Tarun, myself, and Jorsk must reach the Sacrificial Chamber and secure the objective there.”  The diminutive Hapan woman grinned.  “Watch your corners and keep the path clear.  If everything goes right, we’ll be tearing back through the tunnels faster than a rancor eating a Gamorrean.”

“Ma’am, question?  What about Mistress Teks?”  Sergeant Alvai asked, the tautness doing nothing to diminish the dangerous look upon her face.

D’Aylanna and Berra exchanged a look before the Miralukan answered.  “She’s got her own responsibilities.”  Her blindfolded face broached no argument.  She knew that Teks would enter the Revenant base separate from them, closer towards the top.

As they traversed the hallways leading further into the ziggurat, D’Aylanna began to get a “feel” of the building; she’d seen several in Faradi’s Intel Report to recognize that this pyramid was similar to the old structures that the Revanchrist had erected during Darth Revan’s Sith reign.  As such, she knew that they needed to get to a central chamber, one which should house the datanode that Rakham was looking for.

At the first major junction, Berra instructed the first 2-person team to remain, both to maintain watch as well as secure their exfil.  And as they continued onward, they came to two more major intersections, repeating the process with the fireteams.  And then, it was only Berra, D’Aylanna, and Jorsk.

After many long minutes, they finally arrived in the pyramid’s inner sanctum, the large room lit by an eerie red light that pulsed in time with a slow, tripartite beat that seemed to come from the foundations of the pyramid itself.  And in the center of the room stood a single, slender figure, one that Berra and D’Aylanna had been told about from the other Templars.

Annoura.

Even as the three of them cautiously approached the Revenant woman, they had their guards up, both women having ignited their lightsabers.  Jorsk was aiming his heavy blaster at Annoura, the teal and purple radiance of the two womens’ lightsabers casting strange shadows upon his face.  “Get on the ground now, you tralk.”  Jorsk’s voice was unwavering.  The Revenant woman said nothing, her face an unreadable mask.  “I won’t tell you again…” Jorsk threatened, taking a step forward.

“No, Jorsk, wait!!”  Berra said…a split-second too late.  As Jorsk’s foot came into contact with the ferrocrete-paneled floor, it suddenly gave way, throwing the Hit Squad lieutenant off-balance.  As Berra tried to grab him, her hand wrapped around the tall man’s arm to prevent him from falling.  She would have been successful…except that then the Revenant woman projected a powerful Force Push that struck both Berra and Jorsk, sending them careening down the steep, stone slide.

Leaving D’Aylanna alone with Annoura.  Cautiously, the diminutive Hapan approached the woman, her purple saber held unwaveringly in front of her.

Only…now that she was close, D’Aylanna noticed that the Revenant woman seemed to…”ripple” was the best word to describe it.  Focusing with the Force instead of her eyes, D’Aylanna felt the ripples all the more clearly.  Mentally nodding, she projected outward, using the Force as a scalpel, shredding through the mirage.  Almost instantly, the image of Annoura shattered, exposing the true visage of the being who stood unafraid and draped in shadows.

“…So you are the fool who thinks to challenge me.  You could not best my Domina Annoura and nor shall you defeat me.”  As the man spoke, his face illuminated by the pulsating red light, D’Aylanna could finally make out details: this man’s face, forehead, and bald crown was even more heavily tattooed than the Wraith that she’d caught.  His black robes seemed to draw in the shadows, creating an aura of darkness around its fringe.  Yellow eyes not unlike those belonging to the Sith were surrounded by black sclera and his forearms were covered in ritualistic scars, though how the mortification could possibly be permanent after what Faradi had told them concerning Revenant rejuvenation was beyond D’Aylanna.

While he spoke, he shrugged out of his robes, standing bare-chested in high-waist loose black trousers.  Though he was slender, his musculature reminded D’Aylanna of an anatomy chart; the striations of his muscles against other tissues were razor sharp.  And within his hand was a dark saber that had several aggressive prongs attached to the emitter.  With a snap-hiss, his crimson blade sprang into existence as the Revenant was already flowing into what D’Aylanna recognized as Water Forms from her husband, Zearic.  But if her husband was an adept, it was obvious that this man was a master.  Determinedly, she met the Revenant, her purple blade upon his red, and it was all that she could do just to defend herself…

            <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 24: Hard Truths, Part III

Just before Berra hit the hard floor, she slowed herself enough with the Force that she alighted gently, standing with her saber ready.  She sensed rather than saw that Annoura had dropped her several floors below the chamber that she’d been in…and must return to.  She knew that D’Aylanna was an excellent saber practitioner but she also remembered her fallen Templars… And Annoura was the cause.

Hearing a soft groan, the Miraluka was thrust to the present, remembering that she’d not been the only one to fall to the Revenant’s ruse.  “Jorsk!”  She said quietly, intently, running towards him.  Automatically Delving him to see the extent of his injuries, she ran her hand along the Mandalorian’s muscular jaw, the unique smell of his beskar armor mixing with his own scent, one that she’d come to find comfort in…

“…I…I’m ok, Berra.”  His voice was soft but strong.  “My armor took the worst of it.”  Suddenly silent, she could feel him looking at her, his callused hands gentle upon her face.  Impulsively, she went upon her tiptoes, kissing him almost savagely.  Without any hesitation, Jorsk returned her kiss in kind, the two of them entangled for a moment shared in time.

Breathless, Berra layed her head upon Jorsk’s breastplate, wishing all the while that they were anyplace other than where they were.  But the Miraluka was too much a realist to indulge in such fantasies.  Mirroring her own resolve, Jorsk was already pulling away, inspecting the tunnel that they found themselves in.  Consulting a datapad built in his armor, the Mandalorian did several mental calculations while Berra projected her Force senses outward, wary of any acute threat.  As before, she could feel the oppressiveness of Force Suppression, effectively limiting the range of her senses within the pyramid.  …Just like when we encountered the rakghoul... Alert, Berra and Jorsk proceeded deeper into the labyrinthine paths, consulting the Hit Squad lieutenant’s datapad to navigate.

“Take the next right.” Jorsk’s quiet voice was almost drowned out by the droning coming from the blood-red illuminated walls and foundation.  Nodding, Berra turned down the tunnel, senses acute and vigilant.  But even as she focused, the Suppression kept everything but a few meters obfuscated from her awareness.  “Next left will deposit us into an antechamber with a set of stairs leading directly back to the inner sanctum.”  He glanced at Berra, a resolute look upon his face.  “I’m sure that Mistress Vih’Torr is fine.”  Jorsk said as if reading the Miraluka’s mind.

Smiling, Berra looked up at the Mandalorian, her face expressing her fondness.  “I agree, Jorsk.  Still: let’s hurry.”  Grabbing her hand, Lieutenant Un-Haku began running with Berra closely behind him.  They emerged from the tunnel and were halfway through the antechamber when they heard a deep rumble coming from above.

Jorsk looked up just as Berra screamed.  “By Ashla, Jorsk RUN!!”

Before either of them could move the ceiling opened, divulging a flood of frenzied rakghouls.

            <<<<< >>>>>

D’Aylanna’s saber once again stopped the Revenant’s mere centimeters from her face, momentarily locking each combatant face-to-face.  Or as near as their height disparity would allow; the man towered over the Hapan Master.  But that was not his only advantage; his saberwork was even superior to her own.  Thinking again of her husband, she tried a tactic she’d seen him employ.

“Annoura must be running out of fodder if she’s sending another Wraith to do her work.”  She tried as surreptitiously as possible to focus on her task without the Revenant noticing.  Pushing against the red blade, she broke their lock, once again going on the offensive.  But the man’s defenses were impenetrable.

Grinning wickedly, the Revenant smoothly replied, his voice oily and self-assured.  “A Wraith?  Is that what you think me?  You are an even bigger fool than I’d supposed.”  His smile disappeared, his face twisting in a cruel caricature reminding D’Aylanna of a Hapan Noh Mask, an accruement that was placed on the head of the dead Queen Mother, meant to frighten off the dark spirits of the Afterlife and ensuring that Ta’a Chume reached Elysium unmolested.  “I am no mere Wraith, woman.”  He suddenly pressed against D’Aylanna’s defenses hard, his crimson saber seemingly everywhere at once.  “I am that which stands behind my Domina, basking in her light, granting me life.  I am her Shade.”  He kicked out at her, almost connecting with her stomach.  D’Aylanna turned at the last instant, taking his heel on one of her hips, not enough to disable but the blow still hurt.

And still the Shade attacked.

Even against Gaetana, D’Aylanna had never fought a more skilled saber practitioner.  Each blow came closer to hitting the mark, each cut seemingly faster than the last.  D’Aylanna was a master…but she was hard pressed by this…Shade.  This time, it was he that locked their sabers together.

“My Domina will flay the skin from your body, woman; your blue lips and hair shall adorn my cloak as testament of the Templar’s failures.  And you shall yet live in agony until my Domina has tired of you.  Then, and only then shall—”  D’Aylanna’s punch caught the Shade unaware has he spoke, whipping his head to the side in what would be a knock-out blow to almost everyone else.  But not the Shade.  Before she could take advantage of the Shade’s stunned state, he was already advancing upon D’Aylanna, spitting blood from a furious face.  D’Aylanna thought she heard a tooth hit the ground along with his spittle.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.”  The Shade’s attack was renewed and more savage than before.  Each cut that D’Aylanna parried was quickly followed by another, giving her no chance to riposte.  She seemed to be beaten, dropping to her knees.  Yellow eyes alight with evil glee, the Shade grabbed his saber hilt with both hands, determined to bisect D’Aylanna with a powerful overhead slice.

It was the opening that the Hapan Master was waiting for.

Quickly accumulating the Force that she’d slowly, carefully drawn upon, she projected the result out towards the Shade: a dark pulsing orb of Kinetite.  The Shade was completely caught by surpise, the Kinetite detonating in front of him, throwing him across the chamber where he hit the wall with a sickening, wet thud.  Crumpling to the ground, D’Aylanna breathed a sigh of relief, once again thankful for Zearic’s combat pragmatism: he’d tried using that same tactic on her in training and had nearly succeeded.  It was only due to luck that she’d noticed what he was attempting and was able to counter it.  But with D’Aylanna’s superior Force skills and power, she was able to successfully employ it against the Shade.

Walking over to the motionless body, D’Aylanna tried to catch her breath.  It had been a close call, a very close one…that Shade had nearly—

Before she even registered movement, the Shade sprang to action, igniting his saber in a vicious cut that threatened to decapitate D’Aylanna.  While she was able to avoid getting her head cut off, the Shade’s red blade cut through her saber’s hilt, the now-useless emitter flying away, lost in the shadows of the room.  And still the Shade came.  D’Aylanna lost ground quickly, trying to gather strength to utilize against the Shade but had no time to recover.  Propelling several simple yet powerful Force Pushes against the Shade were all that D’Aylanna could manage but even they were quickly rebuffed, the Shade inexorably advancing, his saber always just centimeters from her.

Suddenly, D’Aylanna’s back hit the wall, knocking the breath from her.  Seeing this, the Shade’s lips spread in a rictus-like grin as he prepared a killing-blow.  The Hapan woman fought to clear her head, seeing the blood-red blade arcing towards her.  The Shade’s muscles rippled, having put forth all of his efforts in the cut, his blade an extension of his arm just as he was an extension of his Domina.  He was Death and had come to collect this Hapan woman’s soul, her body forfeit.  His teeth reflected the red light as his lips stretched taut in a maniacal grin as he screamed, “DIE!!”

His saber stopped as if he’d hit a force field, the small Hapan’s dark eyes drilling into his.  Astonished, he glanced down the length of the blade, disbelieving what he was seeing.  The woman had grabbed the saber by the blade with her bare hands.

D’Aylanna had mastered tutaminis, even having been compared to the ancient Jedi Satele Shan in skill.  Gripping the red blade, her hands were insulated from the plasma by the Force.  Slowly, she smiled at the Shade, shock still evident upon his face.  Now D’Aylanna could defeat her opponent; he’d underestimated her ski—

In a flurry of motion, the Shade released the saber, drawing his arm to his right side, a wet, slicing sound accompanying the move.  Unsure of what it had portended, D’Aylanna was about to act when she heard a several droplets hit the ground at her feet.  …By the Maker, what…? Looking down, she saw a growing pool of blood.  Confused she looked from it and back to the Shade.  And she finally felt the pain: her neck had been cut cleanly, the blood running freely, soaking the front of her clothes.  Seeing the look of triumph on his face, she felt herself collapse, light-headed and disoriented. But part of her looked, really seeing the details that her eyes took in.

And she finally noticed a half-meter metal blade that protruded from the Shade’s arm; it must have been surgically grafted within his forearm and cybernetically controlled…or at least that’s what D’Aylanna thought.  Her eyelids felt heavy.  She tried to direct Healing flows to her ruined neck but she was having trouble concentrating… Slumping over, she sluggishly looked up, seeing the Shade come into her field of view.

His eyes were pitiless, the inked skin of his head and face glistening with sweat.  But he stood tall, the vibroblade projecting from his arm reflecting the light as it slowly withdrew back into his skin, the laceration knitting together as she watched.  Deliberately, he called his saber back to his hand from where D’Aylanna had dropped it.  

And this time when he raised his arm, D’Aylanna knew that she could do nothing to stop it…

            <<<<< >>>>>

Berra’s teal saber cut through three more rakghoul bodies, only for them to be replaced by twice as many.  Jorsk was behind her; she would not let the rakghoul get to him…

“Jorsk!  Can we kill them all with one of your thermal detonators?”  The panic in her tone was subtle but it was nevertheless there.  

“No, they must be grouped tighter together!”  He shot a rakghoul in the head, one that had come too close to Berra.  There only means of egress—the stairs leading upward—was in the far corner, a sea of rakghoul between them and escape…

Berra knew that she could not kill all of them with her lightsaber, especially with the Force Suppression still clouding her senses.  Frantically, she searched for a solution while her lightsaber continued to cut down still more rakghoul.  “I’ll think of something, Jorsk!”  She said, trying to keep the fear from her voice.  …By Ashla, think dammit…!  But nothing came to mind.

“…Berra…” Jorsk’s voice came from behind her.  “…You must live.  Live and inform the Templars.”  The Hit Squad lieutenant never once stopped shooting.  “You must save Mistress Vih’Torr.  Only you can.”

“…Wha…Jorsk…wh-what are you saying?”  Her saber cut down another two rakghoul, severing their heads from their bodies.  “Jorsk?!  Jorsk!”  She tried to back up beside him but could not without allowing the rakghoul tide to inundate them.

“Get D’Aylanna!  Get the hell out of here!”  And with that, Jorsk rushed into the rakghoul fray, punching, kicking, and shooting, all the while drawing the horde tighter and closer to him.

“Jorsk!  JORSK!!  NO!!!”  Berra’s screams were loud enough to even drown out the rakghoul’s collective noise.  She tried cutting a swath towards him but the Mandalorian had pulled back into the far corner opposite the stairs.  And, as if seeing it in slow motion, she saw him pull a thermal detonator from his belt, his thumb depressing the dead-man’s switch.  She knew that there was nothing that would stop it from detonating once Jorsk released the button.  “…Jorsk…” she said, quite, miserable, and longingly.

Almost every rakghoul had grouped together, packed tightly as each fought to reach the Mandalorian.  Jorsk’s helmet was finally pulled off, revealing a face, sad yet unafraid.  Looking directly at the Miraluka, Jorsk smiled wistfully even as the rakghouls clawed and bit at him.  “…I love you, Berra…”  He said quietly, closing his eyes.  His thumb released the button.

The ensuing explosion shook the entire room, the congregated rakghoul either vaporized, shredded, or likewise maimed.  Sensing the inevitable—and upon hearing Jorsk’s last words—Berra had summoned a Force Shield to protect her.  The few rakghoul stragglers she quickly dispatched with her lightsaber.  Of Jorsk Un-Haku, there remained nothing…

Nothing but memories.

            <<<<< >>>>>

The Shade’s arm fell, his red saber arcing through the air in an executioner’s cut.  The man’s wicked smile arrogant and exultant.  Staring from her dark eyes, D’Aylanna’s gaze never once wavered, defiant to the last.

A teal blade intercepted the Shade’s, a look of utter confusion on his face as Berra swept in, knocking the Shade backwards.  Berra was silent but the look on her face was such that it gave even the Shade pause.

“…So…another Templar to kill.  You will join your tralk friend in death, eyeless…”  Like before, the Shade savagely attacked.  Berra met him, blow for blow.  Across the room, they fought, their sabers an almost solid cloud of plasma, teal-white and red-white.  Before long, the Shade no longer was smiling, his taunting a thing of the past as he found himself now the one hard-pressed by Berra’s saberwork.  

They both fought on a metaphysical level as well as with their sabers, Force Pushes, Illusions, and Mind Control all threatening to overwhelm each opponent.  The Shade locked up Berra’s saber, his arm positioned exactly in front of the Miraluka’s face.  Smiling inwardly, the Shade activated the cybernetics that projected the vibroblade forth through his skin.  He would skewer this insolent Templar, impaling her through her head where her eyes should be.  Too bad she couldn’t se—

Berra’s quick riposte had provided her with the opening she’d been waiting for.  As the Shade positioned his arm, Berra pivoted, the sudden thrusting blade instead missing her head.  Bringing her saber around she made a tight arc through the air, unexpectantly reversing her cut and going around the Shade’s red blade.  Her teal lightsaber sliced effortlessly through flesh, sinew, and bone, decapitating the Shade.  Upon recovery, she then cut downwards, bisecting the body, both halves falling apart.  Breathing steadily, Berra closed down her lightsaber.  Hurriedly, she ran over to the fallen Hapan Master.

“D’Aylanna?  D’Aylanna!”  She gently directed Healing flows into the severed flesh of the smaller woman’s neck.  But there was a lot of blood that had pooled upon the ground, staining D’Aylanna’s clothes.  “D’Aylanna!”

But the Hapan woman remained motionless, no longer breathing.

[TheDrunkenConsular]

As I said before, absolutely stupendous chapter!  I really hated seeing Jorsk die, not to mention D'Aylanna's injuries.  I can't wait to see what's next, but first, my next installment will be up soon!

[Karmack]

Whoa....   D'Aylanna?  NO!  That was very hard to read...  And Jorsk!  Rough chapter, all around!  Amazing composition and excellent flow!  This was well crafted!

And ... rakgouls?  Why am I not surprised that even Star Wars has its own version of zombies?  ;-)

Wow.  I am loving this saga.  The back-story, links back to the Revan and the New Sith Empire... 

Someone, get these guys a movie deal! 

[Lord_S_Gray]

Maybe D’alyanna shouldn’t have left Zearic behind….good news is he now knows a guy who can cure whatever ails her….

What a great chapter, action packed with the feel of like a season finale to it, cliff hangar leaves you wanting more!. Superb details, and the Rakghouls, vicious – I remember playing KOTOR 1 and they a were a damn pain then for low level characters if you got swamp, captured that feel here – can’t help but think they went in under equipped to deal with them – flame thrower maybe – Power Armour or combat walker – cheap droid to tie them up…

The Revanchists origins are interesting, seems to be a lot of people looking for immortality through the force – Palpatine, Plauegius, Vitiate…of course People in the know would tell you it’s pointless trying to keep such imperfect bodies alive….

But where are the Brothers in all this fire and fury?

[TheDutchman]

I have to thank TDC for trusting me with the details of the narrative in addition to his characters.  I really had to mine the books I've read (supplemented by Wookiepedia  ) for many of the story facets.  I could have never done this without TDC's wonderful outline or him allowing me a lot of latitude with the specifics  Admittedly, this story has been a blast! 

I really can't wait where TDC takes us next!

[TheDrunkenConsular]

Here's what the brothers are up to.

CHAPTER 25: Alliance

       The first thing Dala saw when her blue eyelids fluttered open was Rakham’s smiling face.  For a moment, her eyes went wide, but then her expression relaxed as she felt her husband’s big hands over her own.
       “Hey there.” He choked softly, tears welling in his eyes but a wide smile on his lips.  “You’re safe now.”  His voice cracked.  “You’re safe.”
       She bolted upright in bed, and the two wrapped their arms around one another for the first time in weeks.  Both of them sobbed, but neither was ashamed, and they stayed like that for a long time.

…

     “How long was I under?”  Dala asked quietly.  They sat side by side on her gurney in the Archive’s makeshift medical bay, leaning against one another.
     “A week.  We did our best to heal you using the Force, but the medics said that to make sure you didn’t suffer any long term physical effects, you needed to spend time in a bacta tank.” Rakham replied.
     “Is Tasrii okay? What about Stikes and Sahka?”
     “All safe.  They came out of their tanks this morning.” 
     “What about the Revenant?  What’s been happening?”
     “Berra, Teks and D’Aylanna are scouting out a lead right now.  We’ve… we’ve learned a lot.  It appears that once again, we’re paying for the sins of Kadmaur.”  Rakham’s face grew bitter.  He opened his mouth as though to continue, but the door slid open with a hiss, revealing a familiar suit of patched red Mandalorian armor that neither of them had seen in a very long time.  From one gloved hand, a matching red helmet hung.  In the other, there was a silvery chrome lightsaber hilt.  Tasrii Kepressa stood as tall and proud as she ever had, her shaved head crowned by dull horns and her blue eyes sharp as knives.  When she spoke, her voice rang clear as a bell.
     “We’re under attack.”

…

     The three Templars strode purposefully towards the great hall.  They were joined as they marched, first by Sahka Tekk, who handed Dala a weapon belt and a Templar pendant.  The crystal pendant went around her neck, and the belt, bearing a black hilted, green bladed lightsaber and DL-44 from the armory went around her waist.  Next, Faradi caught up to them, wearing his silver Ram’s Head war mask and flipping his lightsaber hilt nonchalantly in his hand.  Finally, Nadia caught up to them breathlessly, having run from the command center deep in the Archive.
     “The ship is a medium sized transport with mixed life signs on board.  We cannot  hail them, but they are transponding Heditt’s authorization codes.”  She panted.
     “Heditt’s code?  But isn’t he…” Rakham said.
     “We have not had contact with him since he departed, but that is not unusual.  The concerning thing is their refusal to answer our calls.  The Narudar is coming in from low orbit and preparing for engagement, and there’s a platoon of mercs setting up in the great hall.”
      “There’s only one way to get information from Heditt, and that’s for him to trust you.  I don’t know what he’s up to, but I guarantee he isn’t compromised.” Rakham said confidently. 
      “This one hopes you’re right, masster.” Sahka chimed in, adjusting the fit of her armored vest and checking the charge on a shattergun she’d picked up in the armory.  Behind them, Nadia took Tasrii's hand and stood on her tiptoes to kiss the Zabrak on her lips.
      “Are you sure you are ready to fight, dear one?”  She asked quietly. 
     “As ready as I’ll ever be.”  Tasrii responded with a confident smile before donning her helmet and locking it down.  “Besides, I’m sure Rak’s right, there’s probably an explanation for this.  You know how close to the chest Heditt likes to play his cards sometimes.”

     As the group entered the great hall, they found four full fireteams setting up defenses, being overseen by the Morn brothers, Callo and Stringer, and the new leader of Hit Squad, Commander Yefim Tarr.  Edda Veek and Rawbacca were helping the mercenaries erect barricades around tripod mounted autoblasters.
     “Sir!” Commander Tarr shouted, trotting over to the group of Templars.  “We’re ready to throw quite the welcoming party here, but if you can spare them, we could use a few of your Force sensitives in the defensive line, just in case it is indeed the Revenant.
     “Of course.  Sahka, you’re in charge.  Keep Edda and Rawbacca here to assist.”
     “Edda, Masster?  Is that one prepared for battle?”  Sahka asked.
     “You’re forgetting that she’s been proficient in the Force ever since she came here, Sahka.  The only thing I’m teaching her is lightsaber combat.  I promise you, her abilities are more than sufficient.”  Rakham replied.
       “Of coursse.  Apologies, Masster.”
       “No need for them, Sahka.  Hold the line.”  He gave her a lopsided salute, and then headed for the exit, with Dala, Tasrii, Nadia and Faradi at his sides.  As they reached the doors leading to the tunnel, a squad of Mandalorian commandos caught up to them and took up escort positions. 
       “Sir, we’ve received a transmission from the Narudar.  They’re in an escort position behind the approaching ship.  According to their scans, the vessel is unarmed, but will be landing at any second.”  One of the commandos reported.
       “Well, I suppose we should go and see what they want.”  Rakham replied almost nonchalantly, and cast open the heavy wooden doors, leading the group towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

…

       Edrian Nemo stood at the top of the loading ramp and looked down it with apprehension as his shipmates descended it confidently.  He really would have preferred not to die on this mountaintop, but between the Mandalorian destroyer with target locks on his ship and the eclectic but hardened posse of Templars and their mercenaries marching out of a gaping black chasm in the mountainside, he wasn’t certain he’d make it off of this desolate moon.  He straightened his heavy brown overcoat, patted his carefully slicked back black hair and well groomed beard, and, with a sigh, took the first steps down the ramp.

…

    “What the hell?”  Rakham muttered under his breath as he stepped out into the light and saw the spectacle unfolding before him.  A transport that looked as though it might fall apart at the seams was sitting on the pad, and from it disembarked rank after rank of battered, rusted droids.
     “Iron Knights.  Those are Iron Knights.”  Faradi said, disbelief in his voice.  “Where the scattered hell did Heditt find Iron Knights?”
     “What are they?”  Tasrii asked.  All of the Templars could feel that the droids were very much living beings.
     “Sentient, Force-sensitive Shard crystals, mated to battle droid bodies.  They were created and trained by the Jedi Master Aqinos, who was exiled as punishment for his efforts.  He took the Iron Knights with him and went into hiding.  I heard that they survived the purge, but this…”  As Faradi spoke, the last of the droids stepped off the rank, and formed into orderly ranks.  There appeared to be fifty of them, split into squads of five.  Behind them came a man with pale skin, dark hair and sharp, handsome features, wearing a rakish brown overcoat over classy but dated-looking clothing. 
       “We come in peace!”  He shouted with a smile and a wave, as several more people descended the ramp behind him.  “Your brother sent us!” 

…

     “Well, my name is Captain Edrian Nemo, and Heditt’s an old friend of mine.  We met on Hapan during an insurrection-related incident, where he saved my life more than a few times.  So when he called on me for help, well, I couldn’t just hang the old man out to dry.  He had me take my ship to… well, to a planet, and pick up the rest of these reprobates and deliver them here, along with myself.  Our radio equipment’s been on the fritz ever since we hit an energy storm near Coruscant, so we weren’t sure if any of our transmissions were getting through to you.  I have to tell you, that big Mando ship made us just a little nervous on the approach.  Oh, yeah, and my parents were Force sensitives who passed their gifts and knowledge on to me, which I assume is why Heditt, in his infinite wisdom, called upon me.”  Nemo said.  He was sitting at the meeting table, along with the two humanoids accompanying him and the leader of the Iron Knights.  Across from them, the Templar masters sat, patiently listening to each person’s story. 
     “I’m Rys Treller.” A dark skinned human man with signs of significant cybernetic augmentation spoke next.  “Heditt got me out of a tight spot with the Imps back during the Rebellion, so I owe him one.  I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m the best explosives tech alive, and I know my way around a lightsaber.  Learned a little bit about the Force from my Grandad, before the Imps got him.”
       The third was elderly Togruta man, though he moved with surprising grace and fluidity, and his eyes were sharp.  It took a moment to realize who the man was, but he seemed familiar to both Rakham and Dala.
       “Master Dena!”  They both said in unison.  The old man smiled.
      “I wondered how long it would take you two upstarts.  Heditt told me that you had discovered a new healing technique and taken it upon yourselves to defy the flow of nature and time, but not everyone had that luxury, so you’ll have to forgive me for growing old.”  He said, his friendly demeanor belying his grumpy tone.  “For those not in the know, I was a member of the Jedi Order who managed to survive in hiding.  Dala and I sat across the table from young Rakham in disciplinary hearings more often than I care to recall.”  He added, eliciting a toothy grin from Rakham.
      “Dala, I don’t remember seeing you in those hearings.”  He said.
      “You were usually so hungover, I’m surprised you remember them at all.” She said, only half joking.
       “The Drunken Consular, that’s what we called him.”  Dena added with a laugh.
       “Alright, alright, we can reminisce about the glory days later, you two.  I’m very interested to learn more about our other new friend.”  Rakham said.
       “I am Kathracite.”  The Iron Knight said, standing and bowing to the masters.  “Master Heditt Crescentfall recruited me and the Iron Knights who follow me to serve the Templar Order.  Our goals, as stated by Master Heditt, are to protect the Templar Archive, protect the Templar Knights and obey the orders of the Templar Masters.  It is with great anticipation that we await the opportunity to serve you, Masters, but I must inform you that many of us require maintenance on our droid bodies to be considered in fighting form.  Our division was lost long ago, you see, our ship set adrift in space until it crashed on a desolate planet.  We ran out of supplies to perform upkeep, and we began to creak and rust.  Had Master Heditt and his friends not found us, we’d have rotted away to dust.  We humbly request your assistance with this necessary maintenance, and in return, we offer our undying gratitude and service.”
       “We’ll get you and yours back in top shape in no time at all, Kathracite.  Our engineers may even be able to upgrade your armor and performance, if you’d like.”  Rakham said, standing and extending his hand across the table.
       “Thank you, sir.  It is our honor to serve.”  The Iron Knight replied, grasping Rakham’s hand in his own metal one and shaking it. 
       “The honor is ours, my friend.”

... 

[TheDrunkenConsular]

CHAPTER 25: Alliance, Part II

       Rakham and Dala were in their chambers, lying beside one another quietly, each simply appreciating the other’s presence.  Dala was strong, that much Rakham knew, but he didn’t know how badly the Revenant had hurt her soul, and he didn’t know how long it would take those internal scars to heal.  He was fairly certain that she’d fallen asleep in his arms, and he couldn’t help it when a smile began to crawl across his face.  It felt like everything was finally beginning to get better, and a huge part of that was thanks to the brother he’d seen so little of in recent years.  He made a mental note to take a few weeks after this was over, maybe even a month, and spend that time with Heditt.  Perhaps they would go to Oros, or Nar Shadaa, or maybe just take the Fugitive in whichever direction the winds blew and find what awaited them.  The thought was nice, but interrupted by the soft chiming of his holoprojector.  He tried to carefully extricate his arms without waking Dala, but she made a small sound and grabbed at his hand as he stood.  He squeezed her hand back, and went to answer the call at his desk, throwing a cloak over his bare shoulders.  To his surprise, it was Heditt who appeared.
       “Brother!  Did you open your present?” He said jovially.
       “You mean the ship full of Iron Knights that the Mandalorians wanted to blow out of the sky?”  Rakham replied with a grin, to which Heditt nodded.  “I sure did.  How did you find them?” 
       “It’s just a matter of who you know, sometimes.  Did you meet Nemo?  He’s a good man, with a solid head on his shoulders.” 
        “Yeah, him and old Master Dena too.  I barely recognized him at first, it’s been so long.”  Rakham pulled a pipe and a leather pouch of tabacc from a drawer in his desk as he spoke, and filled it carefully.  He put the stem in his mouth and snapped his fingers over the bowl, causing a cascade of sparks that fell neatly into the dark brown leaf, lighting it perfectly.
       “Hey, that’s a neat trick.  Where’d you pick that up?”  Heditt said.
       “Believe it or not, a Hapan girl we found with the Nyria Exiles.  You should see the things she can do with fire, it’s-" Rakham stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide and the pipe falling from his hands, shattering on the stone floor.
        “Rak? Rakham!  What’s wrong?” Heditt said, leaning towards his holoprojector.  “Are you okay?  Rakham!”
        “Rakham?”  Dala sprang to her feet and rushed to his side.
        “It’s Berra and D’Aylanna.”  He said quietly, his eyes downcast.  “Something’s gone wrong.”  Before anyone else could speak, there was a knock at the door.  Both of the Templar masters masters looked up at it with a sour feeling forming.  Rakham pressed a button under the desk to open the door.
       “Sir!” An out of breath Mandalorian commando gasped from the door.  “We have ships entering the system, confirmed Revenant signatures!”
       “Oh, hell.”  Rakham said, the sour feeling turning to full on despair.
       “That isn’t me.”  Heditt said grimly.  “Might be a good time to call on those Iron Knights.”
       “They aren’t in good enough condition to fight.”  Dala said calmly, kneeling down to reach a chest that held her combat armor.
       “We’ll have to deal the Archive and get all possible hands working on them.  I bet most of the Mandalorian engineers are capable of performing droid maintenance, and Kadmaur’s collection of lightsabers is big enough to outfit any of them who need weaponry.  Heditt, stay safe out there.  You know what to do when you complete your objective.”  Rakham said, shaking off the feeling of dread and reaching for a tunic to slip on before his weapon belt.
       “I do.  Watch your back, Rakham.  I want to see all of you in one piece when this is over.”  Heditt replied, and cut the transmission.  Rakham pulled an off white tunic over his head, then buckled his belt around his waist and donned his brown cloak.  He looked, for all the world, like a Jedi Knight.

…

     Edda Veek ran her hand along the stone wall of the entrance tunnel, gently coaxing the mountain out of it’s peaceful slumber.  She was walking inwards, towards the great hall, slowly.  As she reached the door and stepped inside, she took a deep breath, gathering her will and concentration.  Exhaling, she clapped her hands together, and falling to her knees pressed her palms to the floor.  There was a low rumbling sound, and the floor began to vibrate subtly, until, all at once, the floor of the tunnel began slowly rising to meet the ceiling, picking up speed until the two surfaces met and fused together.  Edda stood and dusted off her knees, not noticed the attention she’d drawn until she reached up to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed at her brow.  She grinned as she saw the mercenaries, most of whom had completely dropped what they were doing to stare openly.
       “Come on, people, let’s get this done!”  She called out, striding over to help set up a barricade.  “Don’t you know we’re being attacked?”

…

       The plan was simple.  They had to keep the Archive shut until the maintenance could be completed on the Iron Knights.  The Narudar would attempt to slow down the incoming Revenant before they broke orbit, but was prepared to skitter away at light speed if the enemy was too strong.  From there, Edda was tasked with holding the entrance shut for as long as possible, while if she lost it, the Mandalorians and most of the present Templars would hold the front line at the great hall.  If the great hall was lost, they would fall back to secondary defenses in the meeting chamber.  If that line was lost before the Iron Knights were prepared for battle, all would be lost.  So, everyone in the Archive with any engineering experience was forming an assembly line, with buffing wheels, oil cans, spare nuts and bolts and a handful of lightsabers from the Armory. 

     The engineers on duty included Rakham, calling back on his droid building days, Captain Nemo, whose experience keeping his rustbucket ship in the sky proved useful, Faradi, a skilled tinkerer and inventor in his own right and four Mandalorian combat engineers.  Of the fifty Iron Knights, every one of them required maintenance in some form.  It was mostly a matter of oiling joints, polishing photoreceptors and tightening bolts, but some of them were damaged more deeply, needing soldering, new hydraulic lines or replacement servos.  Soon, the repair team fell into a healthy rhythm, and organized their efforts.  Nemo and the Mandalorians took on the less damaged Knights, while Faradi and Rakham tackled the ones with more serious damage.
       “What is malfunctioning, friend?”  Rakham heard Faradi ask as a new Iron Knight stepped up to him.
       “My left arm won’t move, and my weapon doesn’t work.” The metallic voice replied.
       “Check the connections in sector R3, Faradi.”  Rakham chimed in.  “Had a similar one a few minutes ago.”  He replaced the armored bicep plate on his own “patient" and screwed it down tight.  “How does that feel?”
       “Perfect, sir!  Thank you!”  The Iron Knight replied, moving each of his joints in turn, checking their smoothness.  Rakham reached into a box beside his tools and drew out a lightsaber, handing it to the Iron Knight.
       “No, thank you.”  Rakham responded. 
       “Sir!” A Mandalorian shouted from the door to the workshop.  “The Revenant ships have gotten past the Narudar!”
       “Is the ship okay?”  Rakham shouted back, as the next Iron Knight stepped up for maintenance.
       “No reported casualties, but weapon systems were damaged!  The Revenant will be here soon sir, I have to get back to the line!”  The mercenary replied, and was gone.  Rakham looked up at his next patient with a falsely carefree grin.
       “What can I do for you?”

…

       “How is this even possible?”  Edda groaned through gritted teeth.  She had both hands pressed against her stone barrier, locked in a battle of will with someone on the other side who was trying to open it.
       “The Revenant have known about this place for longer than we have, it seems.”  Stikes said, pressing his hands to the wall and adding his power to Edda’s. 
        “Anytime now, Mr. Treller!”  Edda called out over her shoulder. 
        “Affirmative!  Fire in the hole!”  The cyborg shouted, and pressed a key on his detonator.  There was a series of low rumbling booms as mines hidden on the landing pad were detonated, and the pressure on the other side of the wall subsided momentarily before coming back, stronger than ever.
       “It didn’t work!  We can’t hold out much longer!”  Edda screamed, and the wall began to slowly inch downwards.
       “Lock and load, boys and girls!  We’ve already got three squads of Iron Knights backing us up, and the rest will be along shortly.  This one’s for Marz!”  Commander Tarr barked, and the Mandalorians dug in.  Twenty-something lightsabers were activated all at once, and shatterguns were charged.
       “Stikes.”  Edda said, her voice a strained whisper.  “Back up.”
       “What? But-"
       “They’re coming.  Back up.” 
       “Alright.”  He said, and stepped back  away from Edda to shout at the defenders.  “Here they come!”

       Edda drew on everything she had, and suddenly the wall began to creep back upwards slowly, until she removed her scarred hands from it altogether.  It dropped with alarming swiftness, and she thought she heard someone scream for her to move out of harm’s way.  That brought a smile to her lips.

       Edda Veek was harm’s way.

       She raised her right hand, and snapped her fingers.  She caught only a glimpse of the charging Revenant battle droids and their tattooed masters at the end of the hallway before the vortex of white-hot flames screamed into life before her and boiled down the tunnel, blackening and cracking stone, fusing and twisting metal and annihilating flesh.  She didn’t stop, snapping her fingers again, and again, and again.  She raised her hand to unleash a fifth blast, but before her fingers could snap, something hit her, and she stumbled backwards.  The hilt of a vibro-blade was protruding from her abdomen.  She fell to her knees with a gasp, her hands wrapping around the blade.  The rattle of shatterguns filled the air, and she heard someone shout at her.
      “Don’t pull it out!”
      Suddenly, strong, armored hands wrapped around her arms, and drug her away from the opening.  The last thing she was aware of was the steepled stone ceiling of the great hall before everything faded to black.

...

        “That’s half.”  Nemo said, as the fifth squad of Iron Knights headed out the door.
        “We have to go help the defenders.”  Rakham said to Faradi, then turned to the Mandalorian engineers.  “You three, stay here and get as many of these Knights running as you can.  Nemo, you go where you feel you’ll be the most useful, either stay here or follow us.”
       “I’m with you, boss.”  Nemo replied, drawing a long elegant, elegant lightsaber hilt from under his coat.  “Let’s get this settled.”

…

     All hell was breaking loose. The Revenant droids had swarmed in and engaged the defenders from close range, where their self repair ability was at it’s most dangerous and the shatterguns were at their least.  The Mandalorian flamethrowers were not hot enough to fuse metal and destroy every trace of circuitry like Edda’s blasts had been, and they posed more of a danger to their allies than their enemies, leaving the Mandalorians to use their knives and armored fists, just the way they liked it.  The Iron Knights proved their usefulness quickly, using the Force and their superior strength to batter the droids, slicing them to pieces with their sabers.  Even now, with only a few squads on deck, it appeared that they could turn the tide.
       Nadia stood back to back with the Morn brothers, all three of them using lightsabers in one hand and casting Force lightning with the other.  They’d found that the lightning could overload the droids and stop them from repairing themselves.  Sahka and Tasrii were, as always, well in control of their corner of the battlefield, and both of them were eager to pay the Revenant back for their imprisonment.  As the fifth squad of Iron Knights arrived, with Rakham, Faradi and Nero shortly behind, things were looking fairly positive.  Then the Force suppression hit. 
     
       The Revenant marched down the entrance tunnel like a conquering army, dressed in black with red blades burning. 
       “Commander Tarr, get the wounded out of here and establish the secondary line of defense!  Hold the next wave of Iron Knights there until I give you the signal!”  Rakham ordered into his commlink, and drew both of his sabers, the blue and green blades sizzling to life. 
       “What have you gotten me into, Heditt?”  Nemo muttered, as his purple blade came to life with a hiss.  Rakham looked from him to Faradi, who had donned his war mask once again and activated his long, poison green saber.
       “Bet you a bottle I get more than you.” Rakham said with a lopsided grin.
       “I’ll take that bet, Master.”

…

       The last of the Revenant droids had been dealt with by the time their masters reached the room, and the thirty-six defenders stood resolutely, with Rakham at their front.  A Revenant Wraith stood before the attackers, his face covered in red tattoos.
       “I am willing to accept your unconditional surrender.”  Rakham said sarcastically,
       “Funny, I was going to say the same thing.”  The Wraith replied darkly, and looked as though he had something more to say, but a look of confusion passed over his face, and he looked over his shoulder.  At the same time, Rakham’s commlink buzzed. 
       “Uh, sir, this is the command center, and we just got a really strange message.  I think you should hear this.”
       “Command, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
       “I’m playing it, sir.”
       “This is the Revenant warship Crucifix.  My name is Anzio Ket, and my men and I wish to pledge loyalty to the holders of the Mask of Revan.  I have obscured the news of your reinforcement earlier today from reaching our leaders, and with our forces combined we can easily destroy the force laying siege to your-"
        A series of deafening booms obscured the final bit of the transmission as rockets lanced down towards the landing pad, destroying the Revenant ships there.  Not even a second later, another Revenant ship landed, and twenty or thirty people leapt out of it, lightsabers in hand.  The Wraith in front of Rakham screamed in rage as they charged, and Rakham merely shrugged, shaking his head in disbelief.
       “Shall we?”  Faradi’s hollow, evil sounding voice came from within the mask.
       “Yeah, why not?”

…

       The battle did not last for very long.  Anzio Ket’s force slaughtered their way through the Revenant foot soldiers from the rear as the Iron Knights cut them off from fleeing into the Archive.  The Wraith was decapitated by Anzio himself, who then thrust his saber into the man’s chest, cutting out his heart. 
       “That’s the trick, see.  You have to get the brain and the heart at the same time.”  He elaborated to the Templars and Iron Knights gathered around.  “Now, please, lay down your weapons.”  He said, causing the Iron Knights to raise their lightsabers into defensive postures.  “No, no!” He deactivated his lightsaber and placed it down gently.  The hilt was polished gold, expertly carved into the shape of a dragon, and he seemed hesitant to place it on the rough stone floor.  “Will my followers please lay down their weapons.” he elaborated, though they were already complying.  Rakham pushed his way through the crowd, lightheartedly arguing with Faradi about whether or not kills counted if the victim came back to life, but before he could speak, Dala’s voice rang out.
       “Rakham!  Rakham!  It’s Edda!  I need your help!”
       His eyes went wide, and he placed a hand on Faradi’s shoulder and pointed to the patiently waiting Anzio.  “Handle this until I get back.”

…

       Edda was lying on a table, her scarred midriff exposed and bloody.  There was a bandage over the wound, but she wasn’t breathing.  Dala was moving her right hand around an inch above her body, trying to use Force healing to coax the young woman into holding on to life as Rakham sprinted into the room.  He knew what to do immediately, taking a place across the table from Dala and grabbing her left hand.  Almost instantly, the power between them began to flow back and forth like electricity, and an intense white glow began to emanate from Dala’s hand.  With a rasping wheeze, Edda began to breathe again.  After a moment, her eyes flew open.
        “Where am I?”
        “You’re safe.” Dala said with a warm smile.

CHAPTER END
       


This chapter was sponsored by Writer's Tears Irish Whiskey and anime references.