Yesterday’s Heroes
This is another free to contribute subset of the Mirror Empire to deal with where the old ‘Heroes’ are and what they’re doing….
These little snippets are about ‘positioning’ characters without necessarily committing them in any particular direction (or any direction they were not already on emotionally) – i.e. just getting the ball rolling any anyone can feel free to take up a thread and run from there with it!
Ahsoka
News was slow to come to Thabeska, but when it did come it clung to her mind like the dust that covered everything after a few days.
Emperors, Princesses, Praetorians, Purges.
In her little corner of the Fardi compound repairing droids she did her best not to think on it, not to wonder what had become of Anakin, Obi-Wan, all those she had to leave behind. But as more information flowed through the holo net her mind just kept shifting back to it.
Had they survived the purge – or surrendered to the amnesty? Did it even matter?
She was torn between going back and pressing forward, treading water in the middle.
“Whatcha do’n?” a sweet little voice interrupted her tightening a bolt.
“Oh…Hedala, how did you manage to sneak up to me?”
The little girl shrugged, she seemed to have inherited the Fardi clans natural knack for furtiveness, along with the similar facial features – yet there was something about her just a little different – everyone remembered her face – “that will make it difficult for her to work…” her cousin Chenna noted given the advantage the Fardi girls played on in all looking similar.
But Ahsoka sensed something more to it – a suspicion she didn’t really want to probe into for what it would mean for both of them.
“Just working on this droids,” ‘Ashla’ as Ashoka now called herself replied.
The little girl stood on tiptoes to peek onto the workbench, then seemed to lose interest.
“Guess what!” she said a bright smile on her face
“What?”
“Daddy is getting me a new dress!”
“Really wow what colour is it?”
“It’s gonna be pink and red just like the Princess!”
“Wonderful!” Ashla replied with faux excitement – the Princess…her face was everywhere, her voice all over the holo news extolling her ‘female friendly’ policies one minute, explaining the need for additional military expenditure the next.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Daddy is getting visitors, Umperials are visiting with a Wegate.”
Wegate? Legate she must mean…Ashla hadn’t paid much attention, but understood they were in charge of various fleets and sent to different systems to oversee integration into the Empire…if one was coming here…
“When is the Legate coming?”
Hedala shrugged once more “I dunno…are you doing to get a new dress too?”
<<<<>>>>
Ahsla did not get a new dress, she wore comfortable workman’s overalls in the crowd as the Legate was welcomed to Thabeska.
A Venator flanked by Two Acclamators sliced in the sky high above as ARC-170’s trailed regal purple streaks as three clone Juggernauts rolled down the street, the bitumen whining in protest at their bulk as Clones marched in tight order, the cheers of the crowd coating them just as quickly as the dust that Thabeska was infamous for, turning the white armour a sooty brown.
Through the sea of heads Ahsoka tried to get a look at the Legate who stood atop the central Juggernaut beside Clone Officers as they proceeded to the Government House where the Fardi clan officially ruled from, a member of their clan having been elected to the Presidency every four years for the last 100 years.
It seemed surreal, the Clones welcomed like conquering heroes, but then what other choice was there, cheer and be positive or sulk and resign yourself – a system like Thabeska, a half legitimate group like the Fardi Clan would inevitably be subsumed by the Empire – they just chose to do it with a smile on their face.
As the procession reached a hastily erected platform the Legate flanked by the fake grin of President Fardi launched into a speech mirroring that repeated over and over again on the holo-net by Palpatine in the Senate regarding the importance of working together, the new order, the benevolence of the new way, the corruption of the old Republic and the importance of a strong military to protect the people from
‘hooligans, misogynists and rapists’.
There was something very strange about the terminology the Legate used…but stranger still was her uncanny similarity to the Princess, the Legate had shorter darker hair, but could easily pass for a double.
The speech was short and ended with an invitation to sign on as Imperial citizens and receive free healthcare and employment opportunities. By then Ahsoka wasn’t looking at the Legate in her resplendent red armour anymore, but on little Hedala on the platform with her cousins and sisters in her pretty new dress who seemed enraptured by the Legates words.
Ahsoka had come of age in the midst of a galaxy at war, threatened, and eventually betrayed by those she trusted most. What galaxy would Hedala grow up in?
<<<<>>>>
The Fardi Compound was to play host to the discussions between the President and the Legate on ‘integration’ so ‘Ashela’ was to spend a few days in Thabeska city proper out of the way of the negotiations.
Ahsoka was glad for it, the last thing she needed was to be recognised by one of the Clones and shot at – although rumour was there was now an amnesty, and she wasn’t even a Jedi, she’d turned from that path.
As much as she liked the Fardi girls, some alone time would be useful. She couldn’t stay here working as a mechanic forever, she needed to do something more – find a place where she could be herself…
A place where you can find yourself…The thought came unbidden – so much of her identity had been wrapped up in being a Jedi, in fighting the war – now it was all over. What was left to her?
With the Order disbanded perhaps she could try and find Anakin…be just friends instead of an apprentice – but was that just going backwards? Which way was forwards?
She looked around the little motel room for any hint of a clue on what to do next. Her legs restless she decided to go for a walk.
For a smuggler clan the Fardi’s kept Thabeska city relatively lawful and neat – there were far worse places on Coruscant. But as she wandered the streets there seemed to be far less of the lively banter and carousing than normal, Clone troopers keeping a careful eye on everything as she slid past, her face hooded.
It was ridiculous – what was she hiding from anymore?
Yourself?She almost tripped over as the thought stabbed her with its truth.
As she paused at an intersection there was a sudden clang, from one end a Weequay raced toward her pursued by two clone troopers he was tightly clinging to a duffel bag.
“Stop right there!” the all too familiar voice of Rex, Cody and a dozen others called after him.
She felt an instinctual drive to help them, to stop him and find out what was happening – but she had no rank, no reason to…and in the end she didn’t need to.
As the Weequay fumbled over he paused in mid air
Paused. Like the frame of a static holo pict.
In his frozen state the clones tackled him into the ferrocrete, one prying the bag from his hands as a second kicked him into submission, two more soon arrived.
“Move along,” the clones ordered the few pedestrian away as the shadows in the alley the weequay had come from darkened further, Ahsoka slipped back around a corner and peered out as a figure in deepest black joined the clones who dragged the Weequay up.
“As ordered Praetorian,” the clone Sergeant handed him the bag.
“40 million in authenticated untraceable block chain credits….” The genderless voice of what Ahsoka assumed was the black figure noted
“…now why did you wish to leave Thabeska the night the Legate arrived with 40 million credits? Tell me.”
“unnh…” Ahsoka winced as she felt the force…ripple and tighten around the scene, it was less a mind trick or force suggestion than a mental grinding.
“…had to get out…escape Operation Clean up…Arok’s orders, sell up get out….”
“Arok…the Hutt?”
Again a grating like nails across transparisteel
“Yes….”
“He did business with the Fardi’s?”
“Yehhhsss….” The Weequay seemed to struggle for breath
“Not anymore he doesn’t….Tell Arok that the Fardi’s have accepted the Princesses generous offer of mercy and are ceasing their illegal activities, and the Princess thanks him for his donation of 40 million credits to the Princess Alina Hospital on Thabeska and recommends he divest his interest in all Imperial systems,”
It was not a request – it was a brutal order rammed into the creature’s mind that he couldn’t disobey if he wanted to. Force suggestion was one thing – this was outright mind control.
Her sabres tucked away discreetly in her robes never felt heavier as she felt the weequays will compressed into a shape pleasing to the Praetorian – it was not the light touch of Obi-Wan or even slightly bolder press of Anakin – yet nor was it the dark compulsion of Dooku or Maul – it was somewhere –
else – in the force, somewhere she instinctively felt no one should be touching let alone using.
She felt she should do something…say something…the weequay might be a Hutt’s patsy but that didn’t justify such a vicious mental assault.
A Jedi would stop this,A Jedi would – she tugged her collar closer to obscure her face. But she wasn’t a Jedi anymore.
Was she?<<<<>>>
Maul
He knew the sting of failure, the grinding pressure of pain.
All had fallen apart, his brother slain by Sidious, his attempt to claim Mandalore frustrated by Kenobi…and now
Now it all fell apart again.
The first base of the criminal syndicate he had codenamed Crimson Dawn was burning around him. There were no more alarms, even the emergency lighting was gone after an Electromagnetic pulse had smashed into the former recycling plant situated amidst the endless sea of junk and scrap that was the badlands of Ord Mantell.
His legs whined, the oil in the gears old and dry as he pumped signals from his mind into the false feeling limbs to push through the rocking structure as blue and yellow sparks surged from the uncovered cabling along the walls.
The red glare of flames was the only light brightened orange by the occasional explosion.
Crimson Dawn indeed.
He had come to Ord Mantell to rebuild after his failure on Mandalore, the loss of his brother – to take another step toward his vengeance on Kenobi and Sidious. It was poetic in a way, to find oneself in the junkyard and rebuild – just as he had on those frenetic confused days on Lotho Minor after falling to Kenobi the first time.
He had grown from it, remade himself, driven by his hate – but there would be no second Crimson Dawn on Ord Mantell.
Pushing through the various cantina scum he made toward the hangar. He had found Ord Mantell full of eager recruits at first, ‘refugees’ from Corellia, Taris, Denon and Coruscant pushed out by the so called ‘Princess’ Mira’s operation Clean Up – Maul knew the truth, this was Sidious excuse for putting clones on the streets to tighten his fist.
He stomped on the singed form of a Falleen covered in Black Sun tattoos, shoulders over a Pyke syndicate guard – their former bosses were all dead, their territories lost to the clones and their Praetorian overlords.
Now they had come to Ord Mantell – and they were getting both better at wiping out criminal gangs and less patient about it. Maul had no warning before the LAATs descended from the sky and unleashed on the vast recycling facility situated like a metal island in a sea of refuse. He’d only been here a few months, and had never intended to stay so had no real defences – his error was to think it would be many more months before the Empire arrived.
Twisting on the turntable of his artificial hips he sped down the rusted out hazard stripe painted corridors. This had been another failure.
But where did he do from here? He had no idea where Kenobi was, the Emperor - as Sidious now styled himself - was encased behind a wall of Praetorians – how was he to gain his vengeance now?
The question would have to wait, half sliding on the blood slick floor as the roof crashed in behind him he threw himself into the hangar as a red bloom seared his back.
Pushing up on his elbows he raised his head in time to see his appropriated Soro-suub flyer take a green LAAT beam to the cockpit and shred through as the Clone transport smacked into the deck at the far end of the bay.
Rolling up he summoned his sabre to his hand in time to deflect the torrent of blue fire the clones 40 metres away unleashed.
Cartwheeling his Crimson blades sparked a brief purple as the blue bolts hit – as they had destroyed his ship Maul had no other recourse but to take theirs – the LAAT had the heavier plated sides indicating void capability, if he could slip out in the confusion of battle he might make it to one of the less defended support vessels, find a hyper drive capable ship and break away.
The only other option was leaping into the ocean of junk the plant slowly melted into its constituent parts as half-hearted recycling effort and get to Ord Mantell city on foot – not a real option given it was a quarter of the world away. Maul could survive much but crossing quarter of the globes junkyard with no supplies was beyond even him.
Spiralling death descended on the frontline clones, their armour was chipped and scored from dozen of battles already, the burning divots his sabrestaff left went almost unnoticed amidst their already worn state.
The smarter ones fell back to the ship, one spun his hand to order them to lift off – they were in no hurry they had air superiority already and could land with re-enforcements.
Clenched teeth pushed more orders to his faux limbs as he pushed against his back with the force to add speed. The hatch on the LAAT Began to close the Clones peeking round to fire at his charge as one of the laser beam turrets swiftly turned to unleash a green lance of death.
Maul flipped over the blade of destruction as a cargo lift burst apart behind him – in the air he added another force boost to land on the rounded turret, driving one end of his blade down into the clone gunner.
He overheard the familiar helmet distorted voice of the clones within.
“…Class 4 threat, repeat Class 4!”
As the LAAT lifted off he cracked his false feet’s claw like toes into the trasnparisteel to steady as he gripped at the door with the force tugging with his rage at his own failure to rend the durasteel open.
His hands clenched his sabre eager to continue their bloody work upon the clones. They wouldn’t get the chance.
Milliseconds to spare Maul back flipped off the turret back onto the acid pitted ferrocrete of the hangar. The rounded turret sliced in two beneath the force of a huge black blade.
A Praetorian.
Maul had never seen one in person before now. Its exact size was distorted by the light mangling properties of its armour, but nothing could hide the ferocity that oozed off it in the force – Maul was almost impressed – almost.
The best defence was a solid attack – Maul surged forth his blades spinning fast enough to make a solid white tipped with red wall as they crashed onto the dark blade that was rapidly in a defensive guard.
Maul drove hard against the silken shadow, he had heard the rumours, the legends – but Maul knew what is was to be a legendary Menace – and these ones did not scare him.
The black blade worked rapidly to counter Mauls ferocity, only belatedly did the warrior begin to strike back.
“We need not fight Maul!” the distorted voice called out as Maul drove his Juyo to the edge, allowing the rhythm of his anger to flow into the stream of blows
“Join us, the Princess would welcome you warmly, you can have anything you desire!”
Mauls smile was lost behind the glow of the red blade that never let up against the stern defence – he could not be tempted by Sidious little pawn
“I know no master but MYSELF!” he seethed back redoubling his offensive – all the hate and spite he held for Sidious poured into his movements and created an impenetrable wall of focus that diverted the Praetorians attempts to pierce his mind.
Hate was all Maul knew, there was no other purpose, vengeance was his calling that could not be manipulated or twisted
Finally seeing Maul would never be a slave again the warrior began to strike back. He was undoubtedly fast, and incredibly strong, but Maul could delve on pools of hatred deeper than the black holes of the Maw to power his body and repel the telekinetic assaults he was assailed with.
Thin bladed daggers sliced off the warriors belt and sped rapidly to try and slice into Mauls flesh – he swiftly moved to Jar’Kai parting his staff into two blades to knock the daggers off course while maintaining a steady defence against the black blade.
Time…Maul realised – his enemy was playing for time, trying to wear him down to be able to capture rather than kill him…
He would not be taken.
Drawing on the rich black hatred for Sidious he unleashed his rage against Sidious pawn before him.
The Praetorian was taken aback by the sudden burst of ferocity – He was no stranger to animalistic brutality but had never seen it in an Outsider to this degree before - to harness such ferocity in the Princesses service would be a tremendous boon.
Relentless and unquenchable drive of vengeance powered blows that struck fast even for advanced visual sensory abilities of a Praetorian, forcing him on the defensive. It seemed this was one opponent who could not be worn down – the hatred was like a shield about the Dathomiri protecting it from any more subtle assault.
Maul’s teeth ground as he pushed the warrior backward edging his way through a sequence of aggressive blows that struck and increasingly trite defence.
“We can restore your body!” the warrior called over the crackling hum and snap of the furious conflagration – Maul had anticipated such a false offer.
“You can be so much more than this…”
“There is nothing more than my HATE to become!” he screamed back twisting through out of the warriors riposte into a double sweep that slashed straight into its side – the dark armour plating impenetrable but taking heated divots out of the gap for the elbow, having to reposition maul locked one leg into the floor and used mechanical strength to hammer the warrior back with the other force enhanced mechanical foot
His opponent stumbling back Maul advanced, blades raining down to the exposed thinner lining on the neck.
His red blade exploded in a flash then into nothingness as something thin and fast cut off his stroke millimetres before it hit.
Spinning round two more Praetorians were jogging toward him, one notching what must be a second arrow.
There was no choice now – his Hate was powerful – but not three Praetorians working in concert powerful.
Buffeting back the Force grips as he sped forward he lept out of the hangar and into the sea of sun heated junk far below.
<<<>>>