The Weaving Force: Chapter 40 (Patreon)

Chapter 40:

Dennis:

“Damnit, shoulda stayed in bed this morning.” Dennis groaned, struggling to somehow stay in cover and reach for the Blaster that had fallen just a wee bit too far in his hasty dive into said cover.

Across from him, hiding behind a crate, Ruggess babbled very angrily.

“Oh! No! This is not my fault!” Dennis pointed. “Don’t you freakin blame this on me!”

His Bith friend said something else, cringing as a blaster bolt came a smidge bit too close for comfort

“One time! One. Time. And you never let me live it down!”

Rugess said something else pointing very angrily at his partner in crime.

“Oh bullshit! What about when you were hitting on that Nautolan and got us roped into a deal with Gardulla the Hutt. That was way worse than thi-”

“Boys!” Militia barked, followed by the barking of her very large gun  and the distinct spatter of blood somewhere infront of her. “Maybe save the argument for later and shoot back now!?”

“He started it!” Dennis complained; taking the moment to peek past his chosen cover.

More of the Bando’Gora were rushing in. By his count the Hangar had as many as sixteen men now, he, Hannah and Rugess had been pushed back and now pinned into the Hangar’s far left corner near the shields that prevented them all from getting sucked into space. The assassins were hardly stupid enough to let them get to the ship and activate the turret defenses again.

Hell where in the blue shits were those Jedi Dooku said would show up?

As if waiting for his mental call his earpiece crackled to life.

“Hey! Hey, anyone on this frequency? Kronos- is that you on the other end?”

“Yeah!” He called back “You our backup!?”

“Sortof-” The woman answered, he heard a tremendous crash on the other end of the line. “Master Plo and the others are trying to get to Dooku, but standing orders for the Bando-Gora on this wing is to get your ship. It's big and it’s got some heavy guns on it and their boss lady wants to use it to blow the Jedi out of the sky if they try to leave.”

He was distinctly aware of the irony that somehow bigger guns were translating into “bigger target” right now.

“So me and Master Galia are on our way-” A grunt and another crash that sounded like two speeders ramming into eachother “-to you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Ahh I see. You just like me for my ship and not my charming personality!” He joked, finally biting the bullet and lunging across the expanse to grab his gun and rolling to get into cover beside Rugess.

“You know all girls like nice ships. The guys are just optional accessories.”

Oh-ho. A Jedi with a sense of humor.

Between Dooku and that stuffy Obi-Wan guy who showed up whenever Anakin visited Shmi, he was starting to have his doubts.

“Oh you wound me-” He gasped before wheeling around and firing off two shots, clipping one of the Bando’Gora in the shoulder armor. “Looking forward to seeing ya-” A bolt nearly took his head off and Militia herself had to dive into cover as someone with a heavy repeater opened up on her. “Suggest you get here really fast or they’ll scratch the paint job.”

“Got it. Sit tight.”

(X)(X)(X)

Dooku:

His saber flashed, and crackled against Sidious’ burning red. Precise, deft swordwork struggled to find openings, to slip past careless guards.

But there were no openings. Sidious’ form was near flawless.

Dooku recognized its foundation instantly. Juyo. The seventh form. The aggression form. The incomplete form.

It was supposed to be a form meant for heavy blows, for raw relentless power, but its defenses were lacking; and yet that wasn’t the case here.

Smoothly implementing elements of Djem-so and Shien, every time Dooku went for a strike, Sidious’ red blade was there, angling for a counterstrike of his own. And every time Dooku defended the raw relentless power of Juyo nearly brute forced Dooku’s own guard.

Dooku had spent the whole of his life mastering blade combat. And yet- he was merely Sidious’ equal, not his superior.

And as the Darkside writhed and coiled around their duel, fueled by the font of hatred and malice he was contending with; he knew the tides of this fight did not favor him.

He could hold to his defense. He could outlast Sidious, until the Jedi Masters arrived. But Anakin’s cries in the Force were growing frantic, the eddies and flows of the battle around them made everything uncertain.

He couldn’t afford to wait. He couldn’t afford to hold to his defenses. He needed to get past this Sith to reach Anakin himself somewhere on this station.

So he pressed his attack, forced openings open and drove forward with all his might and skill.

Sidious reeled back, abandoning his offense for defense.

Dooku saw what little could be found of Palpatine’s expression behind the mask, and in his signature in the Force, the moment the Sith decided he’d had his fun.

The force heaved.

Objects in the room began to shake; amidst the clashing of sabers, crates cracked, metal buckled a storm whirled around the two of them trapped in its eye.

Dooku felt the sith reach out tearing objects and steel from the walls and floors, hurdling them in Dooku’s direction to distract him.

The count’s own formidable Force potential came to the fore, battering aside metal debris and pushing back against the telekenetic assault, all the while his blade never ceased its implacable dance against the other across from him.

(X)(X)(X)

Hannah

A shot slammed into her Beskar, the impact knocking her off her perch and punching the air out of her lungs as it sent her latest shot wild, the high charge bolt tearing a hole into a wall that made the lights spark and flicker across this section of the massive chamber.

She hit the ground hard, what little air she had in her chest shoved out of her all over again.

“Shit! Miss-M! Miss-M, talk to me.” She heard Dennis shout, ducking out of cover to fire a hail of blaster bolts with both his guns as he shifted his weight, ready to sprint towards her.

She held up her hand, urging him to stay put; he didn’t have Beskar. One hit past his armor; even a glancing one and he may not survive. “I’m-” She coughed, greedily sucking down air. “I’m alright.”

Suddenly, from around a corner, one of the Bando’Gora assassins emerged; his weapon leveling itself towards them.

“Duck!” She screamed.

Dennis didn’t need to be told twice long years both here and back on Bet having trained him to obey a warning like that.

Grabbing Rugess almost in reflex he shoved the Bith down; the both of them hitting the deck as Hannah’s power shifted into a high powered rifle, the blaster bolt exploding from the barrel to smash clean through the assassins head.

When a shadow fell over her, she turned, trying to bring her weapon to bear but three shots hit; two at her arm, one at her knuckles, the other at the elbow; the third hit her chest as her gun slipped from now slack fingers.

The man marched forward, sure that she was disarmed only for the energy of her power to shift and reform off the floor, back into her uninjured hand into a bowie knife that she plunged into the juncture of his ankle, between the shin and foot.

The man screamed, decompressuion making his whole leg shake, robbing him of his strength to stand as he fell on his hands and knees. Before Militia could follow up and finish the job, two shots rang out, flying over her head to strike the man dead as Dennis  damn near dragged Rugess behind him to get to her side.

A bolt nearly took his head off, gouging a scar across the dome of his helmet another cracked into the armored shoulder guard plate, nearly making him fall as he struggled to regain his balance before he slid the rest of the way yanking Rugess into cover behind him.

She breathed harshly, her left arm, the one that had been shot, shaking. The bolts hadn’t penetrated the beskar, but the heat and the impact had done damage, something in her arm was definitely broken. She likely wouldn’t be using two handed weapons accurately anymore.

“Shit.” She hissed.

Rugess their ‘cowardly’ Rugess, forgot his fear at the sight of her hurt, babbling something she only half understood as he took hold of her hand, examining it with a sure, firm grip and attentive eyes even as blaster fire kept peppering the area around them.

“Any word on that backup?” She asked-

Dennis reached over, grabbing a thin, tall metal sheet, tearing it off of rusted nails where it covered wiring between the walls and slamming it down on the ground before freezing it, giving them a clear line of cover out of this corner.

“I aint sitting on my ass waiting for em- come on Miss M, lets move!”

(X)(X)(X)

Vicky:

As they approached the hangar where Kronos’ ship was docked Victoria could hear the sounds of what she could only describe as the third freakin world war echoing through the halls.

“Come on- lets go!” she  called after Master Galia; floating ahead of the Jedi Master as fast as she dared to go, drawing closer to the signatures in the force that felt so much like hers and Taylors.

Could there really be other parahumans here?

She didn’t want to get her hopes up, or distract them; so she had held back her questions on the comms, but now, being physically so close she had to fight the urge to bust through walls to get to them faster. To get some answers.

Then, she felt it, like a lightning bolt hitting a rod, a sharp spike of pain and fear coming from… one of them? Both of them? It wasn’t clear. But to hell with waiting!

“Padawan slow down!” She heard Master Gallia call after her, but she was already rushing down the hall towards the open hangar bay doors where she could see the flash of blaster fire.

Too bad the door was open. She always did like making an entrance…

She flew in, spotting the cavalcade of Bando’Gora assassins trying to circle around on an overhanging walkway to flank… whoever they were trying to reach.

“Hey!”

She lit her lightsaber, the blue blade drawing all eyes to her even more than her voice did.

Then she let loose.

Her aura, so tightly controlled in a temple of empaths was let off the chain like a ravenous dog and she saw immediately the whole body of assassins recoil in fear, hesitating as they stared up at her in awed horror..

That’s when she charged.

The first man turned, trying to run -the first she’d seen to try and do that- before her foot caught him in the back of the head. No force behind it, not really; just her speed and a solid boot. Regardless it was enough to slam him down into the steel floors, unmoving.

The next guy’s hands were shaking as he tried to bring his weapon up, Vicky slapped the gun out of his hand, likely breaking something there before her elbow hit him in the center of his chest, sending him flying; knocking the air out of him and probably breaking several somethings

She caught sight of one off to the side, finally mastering his fear and taking aim only for her to throw the lightsaber like a frisbee, the blue blade whirling so fast it made a solid disc of light cutting through the weapon and clipping the man in the chest, blood burst out of the wound, sucked out by the vacumn.

The last guy on the catwalk with her also tried to turn and run; but reaching over she grabbed hold of his skull slamming it into the bulkhead beside them hard enough to dent the steel before he fell over, slumping on the railings.

“Glory Girl!?”

The shout made her heart skip a beat, the organ stuttering in her chest -someone knew her name- before she whirled.

Three people, two humans and a Bith were huddled behind cover, all in fully sealed suits. But she didn’t need to see their faces to recognize what she was seeing.

The signature off color palate of a crate locked in a time freeze and the barely there green glow around a weapon.

“Clock!?” She shouted. “Militia!?”

Before anything more could be said the last of the assassins regrouped, sending a hail of blaster fire her way as she was forced to take to the air to try and avoid the deluge of shots.

“Talk later! Beat bad guys now!” Clock shouted, returning fire with his own weapon as Militia set her heavy repeater on a crate, the Bith holding the extended barrel in place for her.

(X)(X)(X)

Plo-Koon

Something was wrong.

He could sense it- all around him, suffusing this asteroid.

So much death, violence, fear, anger. It choked him. Like a thick Miasma in the force fueling…

The Dark Side.

And it was the Dark Side he sensed here. A black void at the heart of this place; spreading- strangling the Force around it. He could feel Master Dooku there, fighting against it.

A Sith was here.

But more than that he sensed something else wrong. Taylor, Anakin. He could feel…

There was a sound, a scuffle on the other side of the shields, Blaster fire and the humm of a lightsaber, he, Piell and Billaba turned, trying to see whatever was happening past the particle shield.

Around the corner two Bando’Gora assassins rushed out of the hall, returning fire to whomever was pursuing them before a small green blade flew out after them; piercing one through the chest of one before a durasteel crate crushed the other, with full force with a telekenetic throw.

Master Yaddle walked out from around the corner, pulling her Saber into her hand.

“Master Yaddle.” Billaba breathed, her shoulders slumping with relief that he shared.

The kindly jedi master nodded, but her features were severe.

“Cut off we are here- until the power, disrupted it is.” She stated. “Unable to reach Master Dooku, unable to reach our Padawans.”

“I know.” He answered. “Taylor was close to reaching the engineering deck. But something is wrong I am… concerned.”

“She’s one of the better lightsaber duelists for her age and rank.” Piell said; attempting to sound reassuring even though he himself could sense just as much as he that something had gone awry

“Kenobi and Skywalker were there as well.” Billaba answered. “And Master Gallia and Victoria might have better luck reinforcing them than us. Given the state of the station not all power junctions are likely functional.” She assessed

He nodded. “Communications are disrupted by the rayshields- but perhaps and full broadcast-” He mused; then pressed his fingers to his comm unit activating all frequencies.

“This is Master Plo-Koon. Is anyone available? I repeat. This is Master Plo-Koon is anyone reading?”

He received static as his answer- then;

“We read you Jedi-”

(X)(X)(X)

Taylor:

She’s better than me.

Truthfully there’s very little shock or alarm in the thought; more akin to a simple realization.

I was good with a lightsaber, better than most; but it’d been my powers that helped me get so far, so fast.

The ability to read people’s every micro fiber twitch; to be aware of how they tensed and shifted their weight. It gave me an incredible edge that raw training and years of practice could rarely overcome outside of the truly powerful Masters.

But those advantages were gone here, all I had was my training, measuring up to someone that had been at this for longer and didn’t find themselves without the handicap of missing their usual senses.

The woman struck out, twin blades blindingly fast and I had to fall back on the only other senses I had; The Force, to help guide my reactions and prioritize what to defend.

I slipped into Soresu, not my best form, but I needed the defense, the breathing room. I noted; somewhat distantly that her lightsaber hilts, like mine, were curved, a practitioner of Makashi maybe?

She drove forward, I stepped back, dimly aware of Anakin groaning somewhere behind me .

“This is what the Jedi send?” The woman’s voice, distorted by the electronics of her sealed helm carried an amused sort of disdain. “Padawans against us!?”

I shoved her back, Force energy coursing through my body as I amplified my own strength; trying to get her out of this room, away from Anakin and into a wider space where I’d have more options to maneuver.

She wasn’t about to make that easy for me.

She compensated, her own force power pushing back against mine. She knew the advantages she had here and she wasn’t going to give them up.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised!” I could hear her derision, I could feel the hatred pouring off of her like a furnace door left open as she rushed me, her two lightsabers flashing as I did my best to keep my defense solid and my movements tight and economical.

Force or not, few could keep up an attack like this for very long.

She used one blade to trap mine in a bind, brute forcing the saber out of the way to try and run me through with the other.

“The Jedi always send their Padawans to die!” She laughed.

I felt something in the force, thrumming at her words, some feeling I neither had the time nor the inclination to place right now; not when I had an opening.

I sidestepped the thrust. Stepping into her guard and wrapping one arm around her extended one, pinning it to my side.

I felt the flash of surprise a split second before I pitched my head forward.

Both our helmets slammed into eachother, and I both felt and felt the brief instant of panic, wondering if our only oxygen sources would crack open and leave us both dead.

She reeled back, now desperately trying to get away from me as I slipped my foot between her legs and tripped her.

She fell, but she still kept my blade locked with hers, well aware that any breach to our suits would kill either of us.

I grabbed hold of my blade with all the telekenetic power I had, forcing it to instead pin *her* weapon and keep *her* arm still as I let go of the hilt and thrust my now freed hand down to grab hold of her throat and squeeze.

I caught sight of her eyes, wide with surprise. I didn’t fight like she expected. I didn’t fight like a Jedi.

I felt her thrashing beneath me, trying to get her feet under her, trying to buck me off, but I wasn’t letting go, if she got up I’m not sure I can beat her; so I have to make sure she doesn’t get up.

Her arm, the one pinned at my side twists, the Lightsaber cutting down into the catwalk beside us and the whole metal structure buckles as it’s cut in two.

The metal drops beneath me, and I lose my grip, it's enough for the woman to throw me off with a raging howl, shoving me away with as much Force energy as any desperate creature could muster in its attempts to avoid its own death.

I go flying, sailing across the room in the low gravity as I tumble and twist, slamming shoulder first into the bulkhead with enough force that my arm goes numb and my shoulder throbs.

My boots hit the ground and as far as I’d flown I know I don’t have any time; looking to my attacker as the woman lunges for me, single blade in her hands, looking to run me through.

She was scared now. So now she was done ‘playing’.

I reach up with both hands, shoving with all my hastily gathered focus and barely being able to lightly push her thrust off its course.

She overshoots, the low gravity making her move close enough that her shoulder slams into my chest, the tip of her saber to the right of my foot as I lunge and grab at her wrists, holding her weapon away from me as I shove my shoulder into her diaphragm and heave.

She slams, back first into the metal wall, the wind knocked out of her and I take the moment to reach, grasping at my saber hilt and yanking the yellow blade into my hands just in time to have it meet a decapitating strike.

The blades crackle and snap next to my face, the light of the two sabers blinding one eye as I wonder how many centimeters I have to spare before the blades would touch my oxygen mask and kill me

The woman seethes beside me, a bonfire wanting to swallow me whole.

Her other hand reaches out, the second blade beginning to sail across the room into her free hand.

Then it stops.

Held in place by an opposing force signature.

Out of the corner of my eye, through the glare of sabers clashing I see Anakin standing up, one hand outstretched towards the Saber blade now hovering in the air, slowly pulling it back towards himself.

The woman snarls, a sound of frustration and disgust in her throat before she disengages. The foot that slams into my chest is a complete surprise; it knocks the air right out of my lungs and sends me crashing into the ground.

I hear Anakin’s blade ignite and open my eyes to see him lunging across the room, swinging for all he’s worth to try and help.

But the woman is ready; and she’s better than him- far better.

Her saber intercepts Anakin and simply shoves his swing over her own head, leaving the boy wide open.

I see it in my mind's eye, how it happens. She’ll swing from floor to ceiling, cutting him clean in two at the ribs.

Before I know it, my hand is reaching out and I yank.

The woman is pulled off of her feet, sailing across the room in low gravity before she readjusts herself, realizing what happened as she instead turns her attack on me.

I’m not on my feet, I’m barely on my knees. My first parry is instinctive; a reflex, The second is desperate.

I don’t have the room to get out of the way or to block the third as she pivots behind me.

The saber swings down even as I pitch forward to try and avoid it

“NO!” I hear Anakin scream

It's not the burning pain I feel, nor the instant shock and subsequent death of vacuum exposure.

Instead I hear a hissing burst.

And I can’t breathe.

I realize at my second failed attempt at sucking down air;

She destroyed my oxygen tank.

(X)(X)(X)

Vicky:

The Assassins quickly learned to focus their fire on her as much as they could. And Vicky knew that while she was tough she was hardly invincible, especially here, where a lucky shot past her field would kill her, not just wound. It still gave plenty of room for Gallia, Militia and Clock to move, picking off stragglers and those that got too careless while focusing on her. It was an… unfamiliar spin on her usual role; playing keep-away. But it was still effective at making space for her allies in its own way.

The Assassins were massing together, trying to retreat down the hall, to get Galia, Vicky, Clock and Militia ‘infront’ of them so they didn’t have to worry about her swooping down from above.

Smart play. But once they did that they didn’t realize she could bust through a side wall for an easy flank between her and the others.

It’d be like shooting fish in a barrel… figuratively… cause… ya know… she didn’t have a gun.

So she herded them, floating ‘menacingly’ above their heads, deflecting and dodging blaster bolts  as the group of about a dozen men inched backwards in a controlled withdrawal.

Then… she sensed something. Her heart falling into a pit as she realized it was coming up behind them, outside the station!

She whirled around, spotting what must’ve been thirty… tiny flickering lights?

No; not lights.

Jetpacks.

She narrowed her eyes, gripping her lightsaber as she rushed to meet the approaching attack head first. She’d get past the ray shield and meet them in the void She could fly circles around these assho-

“Glory Girl stop!”

She did stop, her momentum coming to a dead halt mid air as Militia’s voice reached her.

The men came into clearer view; clad head to toe in gleaming armor each bearing helmets with T shaped visors as they hit the ground with weapons drawn, firing at the Bando-Gora assassins who were now really on the back foot. No longer retreating in an organized withdrawal, the armored spearhead crashed into them, turning this fight into an outright rout.

—-------

In the void beyond the Asteroid, beginning a stable orbit around the structure, Captain Cadera of the Mandalorian Royal guard nodded as he received confirmation.

“Got it. Keep me informed lieutenant.” He ordered, turning his attention away from the viewport.

“We’ve got them. They’ll be extracted presently.” He said.

Others may have missed it; but he saw the slight slump of relief on the implacable woman’s shoulders, the breath leaving her nostrils.

“Good.” Alexandria said.

Cadera also noted the tight grip she had on the railings -the one she had ever since he presented her the void suit she would need to wear if she were to join the operation personally- loosen; the divots crushed into the steel visible to anyone who cared to look.

—-------

“Hannah!”

A very large guy with a very large gun damn near crashed into the ground, making a bee-line for Miss Militia.

Vicky was about to float down, ready to make sure everything was ok-

Then; her whole body froze.

She felt as though her body had been plunged into ice water. Her heart going completely still in her chest as she struggled to breathe.

Alarm! Concern! The Fragile one screamed from the back of her mind.

Her brain was dipped into liquid nitrogen. She felt dizzy, and sick.

‘Vicky’

She sucked down a gasp of air, able to breathe again and simultaneously feeling all the air squeezed out of her lungs.

Administrator host; damaged. Administrator host-Important. Find Administrator host-

Tay.

Something was wrong with Tay!

‘Need…Help’

She didn’t bother with hallways.

(X)(X)(X)

Anakin

Anakin watched as air visibly burst out of the tank in Taylor’s back, listening to the horrid sound of her gasping for breath, the muscles of her fingers going rigid over her chest as she tried to rise only to fall again to her knees with a deafening clang of metal rattling up his own body.

The sith woman, because that’s all this could be; giggled, sauntering past Taylor and towards him.

Anakin felt his heart beating under his ribcage, pounding so hard it felt like it would break his own bones to burst out of his chest as he held his saber infront of him, his mind abandoned of all the proper teachings and forms as he blanked utterly on what to do.

“I can’t wait to meet all your friends.” The woman hissed.

It was fear that fueled him, and channeling that desperate fear he pushed

The room infront of him rippled.

The wave of force power that crashed into the Sith sent her reeling, she pitched forward, struggling against the pressure like a man struggling against the winds of a storm.

Anakin pushed, he pushed and pushed as hard as he could, anger overtaking the panic before he saw out of the corner of his eyes, Taylor, still moving, still fumbling for something.

She wasn’t dead- he had to-

His distraction nearly cost him. The Sith’s blade, her other blade came sailing out of the darkness, igniting with a snap hiss mid flight as he turned, battering it aside with his own blue saber.

He felt the shadow fall over him.

Pure instinct made him raise his blade, blocking the strike from behind before he turned and a knee to his stomach drove the air from his lungs, and a punch to the face sent him crashing to the floor.

He tried to move, then the armored boot crushed his hand, stomping hard enough to crush the lightsaber with it the blue blade flickering out like a dying candleflame.

Anakin screamed fingers crushed under a solid boot-heel.

You’re strong.’ The woman panted. “Best be rid of you now-”

Suddenly, the weight was thrown off him, the woman screaming in pain as she flew forward in the low gravity before catching herself, Anakin rolled away, cradling his crushed hand to his chest.

Through tear blurred eyes, he saw Taylor, limbs shaking as her hand was outstretched, her eyes glassy and unfocused past the glass of her helmet visor even as she threw the force push that saved him.

Anakin heard the woman snarl, a scream of frustration making him turn to look at her as she stalked forward; ready now to kill them both.

He heard an explosion.

The station shook, rumbling beneath them.

Then another.

And another.

The blasts were drawing closer, the quaking getting worse.

“What-”

The woman’s question was cut off.

With a final tremendous crash Victoria Dallon punched through the ceiling with a howl of rage, a storm of Force energy that battered Anakin like a typhoon!

The Sith crossed her Sabers together, trying to block.

But Anakin knew Victoria’s strength.

The Sith didn’t.

Vicky’s single blade slammed forward; and either through warnings in the Force or just her own rage making Vicky sloppy, it wasn’t a killing blow, even as it sent one blade flying off into the darkness.

But Vicky was wide open, the Sith’s other blade rushing in to slice her  in two.

Then Vicky caught the saber.

Anakin felt his eyes go wide, and the snarl he heard from Victoria’s helmet speakers was overwhelmed only by the bolt of raw fear he felt from the Sith woman.

Then, Vicky punched.

Her fist slammed into the woman’s stomach and the Sith went flying back, crashing into the wall with a sound that told him that everything must’ve been broken in both machine and body before she hit the ground on her hands and knees, the inside of her helm spattered with bright red blood; her ragged, wet breathing preceding a choking, equally wet coughing.

The door beside him snapped open!

Anakin whirled around, crawling away from the opening-

Obi-Wan rushed through the door.

He’d never been more relieved to see his Master in his whole life.

“Anakin!”

“M-Master?!”

Obi-Wan fell to his knees beside him, checking him over for injuries.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry! The security systems were in place and it took the droid too long to get through it all a-

“Tay! Tay! Please girl- talk to me!”

Vicky flew over.

‘Tay’  Her voice broke… he’d… never heard Vicky cry before.

The boy turned his head, looking behind him to where Taylor was slumped against the wall, Victoria cradling her helmeted head.

“A-air!” He barked, Vicky’s eyes snapping towards him. “She has no air! The tank was damaged. We have to get her to a ship!”

“Take them and go-” Obi-Wan demanded. “You can reach a ship faster than any of us. I will handle things here. Go!”

Victoria didn’t need to be told twice. Anakin wanted to protest, to argue that Vicky should take Taylor, that she’d move faster without him slowing her down; but when she reached over, grabbing his hand and sprawling him across her back before grabbing hold of Taylor as gently as she dared; he didn’t have the heart to waste time arguing.

She flew; rushing up through the crater she’d punched through to enter the room in the first place.

—------

As Komari struggled to breathe through her own blood, spittle and phlegm her vision grayed at the edges, raw agony spreading burning fire from her center.

That… that sith-spawned freak!

What the hell was she!?

If Komari hadn’t used every ounce of Force reinforcement that she could have… her insides would have been liquid.

Sith hells… as she felt right now they might have been that way already.

She heard the clomp of boots on metal and found the strength, through rage and pain to force her head up to look…

It wasn’t… it wasn’t the freak. Someone else.

For a moment, a fleeting instant of nothing as the blue blade ignited… she could swear her Master had come himself.

But no.

It was someone else. Some… knight or other.

Komari struggled to her feet, fingers numb around the hilt of her blade.

“You would be wise to surrender.”

Blade held down in disdain, one handed…

Same stance… same form…

Her replacement?

…

Of course…

Why should she expect anything different from Jedi?

Even his voice sounded the same. Cold, judging… disappointed.

…

“Go to hell” She coughed through a mouthful of blood

(X)(X)(X)

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