Chapter 26: When Worlds Collide, part IAs J’Nessah left the half-filled room, those seats that were occupied represented the Collegium-in-exile—at least those that were not specifically attending Anson at present—she allowed herself a small smile.
…That went better than expected… She thought. But given what they’d been through these past weeks, it was to be expected.
Thanks to her, the Collegium would call a cessation of hostilities with Kazic’s forces to buy time, ultimately calling for a vote of “No Confidence” in Anson. Once they’d done so, J’Nessah would put forth Pytir as the only logical delegate for Kage. From there, it would be child’s play to control him whilst making good her side-deal with Valens: she would grant him and his people access to the Lus’phor kyber manufactory and they would serve as her elite enforcers and body guard. She grinned at that memory; Valens had been so transparent in his covetous for the kyber. And now that she had leverage over him, she could proceed with the rest of her plans.
She had known that Anson had been the right choice. But that was then. Now, Pytir would make the perfect Kage and she—of course—the perfect Arbiter. She’d always maintained that it was better to be the power behind the power. J’Nessah grinned sardonically.
The office of Kage presented too large and easy a target while having too many attendant strictures. Meanwhile, the Arbiter could work behind the scenes, avoiding scrutiny. Just like Arbiter Sulen Reu Lai. Oh, most of the Vhal’Dan knew of Black Rikard and his exploits as the first Vhal’Dan Kage…but J’Nessah had always favored those stories about Sulen.
Lost in thought as she was, J’Nessah spoke soft words to her remaining Untarnished guard before boarding her speederskiff. Without consciously knowing what her hands were doing, dreams concerning the inauguration of a Vhal’Dan “golden age” kept her mind occupied. Her fingers plotted the coordinates of the Lus’phor Spaceport.
And, once finished, picked up the improvised detonator she’d fabricated and nonchalantly placed in her belt pouch, all the while a whispered mantra repeating in the back of her unconscious mind…
<You will obtain whatever discrete explosives your pretty form can carry, secrete them on your person and detonate them as close to your Kage Anson D’Aklon as physically possible> <<<<< >>>>>
Parrying the enormous blackstone blade, Anson locked up with his green lightsaber for a breath. He was burning through his Force reserves too quickly; this was
nothing like his battle with the black armored youth. Worse: Valens was an experienced combatant. No, not “experienced.”
Superior.
From the first pass, it was evident to both combatants that their opponent was a warrior to be reckoned with. Since Kazic had called upon them, the Aethans had hoped for such contest and while there had been several instances where the Vhal’Dan had surprised them, none had been able to do so on equal footing. That was no longer the case: Anson was one of the rare Force-users who was able to keep pace.
Granted, Valens had been involved with the fighting for the past week with little rest but both men had been able to size up each other in short order; the very air was charged with the energies that they brought to bear. It had been years since Valens had fought someone with such expertise.
But Anson knew that he’d
never fought so deadly an enemy as the armored behemoth across from him.
The hanger had quickly filled, all of the onlookers astonished at the display of power, skill, and perspicacity. They had been warned by their Kage not to interfere…at least not yet. Stroke and counterstroke—both by melee weapon as well as metaphysical—the members of Anson’s Collegium (and their adjutants) stared raptly at the two armored men before them. And they knew that there were perhaps a handful of beings alive that could perform such feats, martial and Force-based. This was a meeting of titans, the hanger a genius loci of talents, a physical vergence of the Force.
But if the gathered crowd didn’t recognize his disadvantage, Anson did. In a contest of brute strength, even he would lose against Valens, which in and of itself was disconcerting. He was used to being if not the most powerful, then amongst the uppermost echelon of any Force-users.
Until now.
Dispersing the Force Illusion that Valens had projected, Anson knew that he needed a counter to even the odds. His armor was testament to that: Valens had scored a half-dozen hits, deep cuts, notches, and dents in the places where the tremor sword had gotten past Anson’s defenses. He’d also received a deep cut on the crown of his head, his brown hair matted in blood.
Wrapping himself in the Force, he drew upon the teachings of his own Master Varel’Zo. The Aang-Tii had told Anson that he was his most prized student. Not only had he taught him Flow-Walking but also the more exacting Fighting-sight. It was a skill that was extremely rare, bordering on unique. Even among the Aang-Tii monks who specialized in time/space manipulation, it was not unheard of for generations to pass without an adept who had the requisite skill in Fighting-sight.
Anson was a master.
Before, he was constantly losing ground to Valens, his seemingly limitless power matched by his battle prowess. But with the Force flowing through him, his Fighting-sight aiding him, Anson was finally able to neutralize those advantages.
But if Anson had used his singular talents in his strategy, so too did Valens. Even without the aid of the aether, he was still four times stronger than the Vhal’Dan Kage. In order to compensate, Valens knew that Anson would need to utilize the Force just to remain on equal footing. And if Anson’s Fighting-sight had mitigated many of Valens’ advantages, he still had to deal with Valens’ incredible repertoire of Force Powers.
Back and forth they went, black Oblivion armor and Vhal’Dan gray both reflecting the lights of the hanger, Anson’s green lightsaber, and the various Force energies each man employed.
A dozen Force-Pushes created multiple barrages followed by a strong Force Whirlwind threatening to scatter Anson’s armor and shred tissue from bone while hundreds of micro-tremors impeded Anson’s equilibrium. And those were merely feints. Powerful Force scalpels intent on Severing Anson from his connection to the Force required an entire stream of consciousness just to blunt and protect against. Blue aetheric flames threatened to immolate Anson a moment before he was able to unravel the firestorm. Kinetite with a power magnitudes more potent than normal exploded virtually point-blank just before Anson was able to erect a Barrier. Occasionally Anson would counter with his own Force attacks…
But still the metaphysical assault persisted.
Circling each other, both men were breathing heavily. In their haste and disregard for their surroundings, they had laid waste to the hanger, damaging—and in certain cases outright destroying—several ships docked within. The crowds were still watching but most were now doing so from a distance. While a few had been injured there were, miraculously, no deaths.
And then Valens made a mistake, not that any tactician could fault him. In his attempt to gain advantage, he was drawing from a wide array of Powers. He just chose now to focus upon Spatial Powers within the aether.
With Anson attuned to his own Fighting-sight, it was akin to turning on a light within a darkened room. With his staggering aetheric strength, Valens could teleport
much more mass further distances than even the most powerful Jedi. And using what Jedi would call Force Traveling, Valens began to teleport several times in quick succession a few meters each time. Against any other opponent, it would’ve spelled certain death for them.
To a Gray Jedi Master utilizing Fighting-sight, it was a bright, conspicuous beacon. Anson smiled inwardly and prepared accordingly. A microsecond before Valens appeared on Anson’s left flank, his blackstone tremor sword already in a tight orbit intent on decapitating, Anson subtly sidestepped, dipping his head to the opposite side while bringing his lightsaber under Valens’ guard. And while Valens was able to self-correct within the blink of an eye, it was too late.
There was a collective gasp as Anson’s lightsaber smashed into the armored chestplate of Valens’ Oblivion armor. Weakened earlier from when J’Nessah’s own lightsaber had stabbed into it, the sustained contact of the two plasma blades had created a chink…one that Anson’s Fighting-sight had anticipated.
Converging with his lightsaber, Anson’s other hand projected a potent storm of Electric Judgement, the green light of the lightning combining with the green of his plasma blade as it stabbed at the small fissure within the armor . Additionally, Anson propelled a brutal, razor-focused Force-Repulse to create a hybrid Lightning/Darkshear-saber. For as durable as the Oblivion armor was, Anson’s assault finally cracked the plate, rendering it useless. And while the rest of the armor was still viable, the loss of the chestplate created an exposed flaw.
One that Anson knew how to exploit.
Smiling, he pressed his attack, Valens’ face somber. Anson knew that Valens was too deadly an enemy to drop his guard even now, was just too damned dangerous. Besides, that last trick had cost him dearly: even with the Force, he felt exhausted from the energies necessary to do what he’d done… He
had to end this and quickl—
Wrapped in the Force as he was, the sudden absence of it was like a physical blow, staggering Anson. One moment he was deeply entranced within his Fighting-sight, the Force supplementing his bones, tendons, and muscles to compensate for Valens’ physiology. And then: completely gone. He couldn’t even feel the people who had gathered nearer around them.
And with lightning clarity, he knew that he was in grave trouble.
The null field that Valens had created wasn’t particularly large, extending from him in a 10 meter radius. But for Anson, the Force may have been on the far-side of the galaxy.
“Help me!” Anson called out to the dozen or so Vhal’Dan that were nearest. Seeing the change in their Kage, not one of them hesitated, igniting their lightsabers and advancing upon the two armored men.
<<<<< >>>>>
Valens knew that his Mark-II Armor would still protect his limbs and head but the loss of his chestplate put him at a fundamental disadvantage, especially to a powerful Force-user like Anson. But if his experiences as a Guardian had taught him anything, it was to always have a contingency.
Briefly concentrating, he projected the null-field outward, as far as he could manage without it becoming tenuous. He might not have the aether at his disposal but neither did Anson. And he was much more reliant upon it than Valens.
As he went to advance, he saw Anson call out for help.
Immediately, a dozen of the closest Gray Jedi moved to protect their Kage and converge upon Valens. As they entered the null-field, they paused as the Force left them...but only briefly. Even as they slowly advanced forward, more Vhal’Dan had come up from behind them.
Valens remained completely stoic.
Even with his superior physiology, he could not fight so many…and live. Determined, he gripped his tremor sword and readied his assault. Thoughts of Jarys, Mili, Sofa, and Celina ran through his mind. And of Ari…and that he would redress the grievances against her.
And those responsible. He stared at Anson, knowing that he, at least, would be among those that Valens killed that day.
Just as Valens advanced to attack, chaos erupted throughout the hanger.
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