The Weaving Force: Chapter 77 (Patreon)

Chapter 77:

Obi-Wan:

There was no slow approach to this orbital engagement. No careful manuvering of ships and occupation of “space” to give or deny advantages in ‘positioning’ for either fleet.

No.

Obi-Wan deployed his ‘Sword fleet’ like the tip of a lance, thrusting into the heart of the Seperatist formation.

Vulture droids scrambled to return to the fleet from where they’d been engaged in the planet’s theater far below. Munificents ceased orbital bombardments as they tried to whirl around to face the oncoming threat. Lucrehulks, ponderous, slow and large attempted to turn, to bring their guns to bear.

Obi-Wan,had no intention of allowing any of it to happen without bleeding this Seperatist fleet white.

Clone pilots scrambled out of the venators and other vessels on ARC-70’s, Torrents and Y Wings. Thousands of gunships followed in their wake, transporting clones for the boarding parties.

Obi-Wan, made damn sure he was on one of those gunships.

Commander Cody could direct the fleet action until Master Tinn was in position to take full command.

He had no intention of letting this, their best chance, slipping through his fingers.

Even so, he watched the battle unfolding through the co-pilots seat.

Turbolaser fight lit up the void between ships like strobe lights, thousands, millions of them. Between the great capital ships, the escorts, the friggates, and the fighters. It was bedlam, Impossible to follow and Obi-Wan still tried.

A Munificent vessel exploded, a lance of blue plasma spearing through it like a gored whale.

There was no sound in the void but he could almost hear the metal groaning before it was rent in two- the ships core going critical, the shrapnel of its corpse tearing into several ships, both theirs and of the enemies as the vessel died a fiery death.

He listened to the callouts of the various fighter wings. Breaking off to intercept and obliterate isolated targets.

Bombers wheeled towards the lighter escorts, avoiding the screening fire of the capital ships, all to buy time and keep the CIS fleet from fully regaining their footing as Master Tinn rushed to join their ambush with all speed.

Even so, Obi-Wan felt the very instant the touch of Master Rancisis’ force presence withdrew from their minds. The effects were not immediately apparent, but they would be soon.

Beyond that, the absence  made him frown in concern knowing the Jedi Master would not abandon his ministrations with battle meditation unless something had gone wrong on the surface.

He activated his comm.

“Commander Cody?”

A moment of static. “Yes General”

“I have reason to suspect the battle groundside is suffering greater setbacks than we anticipated.” He said as calmly as he could. “We must bring this to a close as swiftly as possible”

There was a moment of silence. “Understood sir.”

Obi-Wan felt the man wasn’t just saying those words; they carried weight, not just in his voice but the force itself.

Then the fleet began to move.

The Venators sped up, almost fast enough Obi-Wan was worried they’d outright ram CIS vessels , turbolaser fire increased, all batteries beginning to focus on the lighter escorts and fighters, concentrating their guns on anything that wasn’t getting out of the way fast enough.

He saw the shields of a Providence Class destroyer buckle under the onslaught, fire blooming across multiple decks, bleeding flame into the void.

The GAR fleet drove forward like a lance, punching directly into the center of the CIS fleet’s formation, physically interposing the mass of the venators to shield the boarding parties, the fighters and assault craft screened them from the returning vulture droids who scrambled to try and stop them. Turbo laser fire

The Negotiator, his Flagship, flew directly over their heads, the sheer mass of it making their tiny gunships almost invisible to targeting computers, confused by the proximity.

But Obi-Wan saw the trap.

The CIS fleet was wide in its formation and already the distant “wings” were beginning to envelop the speartip.

“Commander Cody-” He called.

“I see it sir.”  The man interrupted him with what he’d almost describe as ‘curt’ if not for the situation.

Still, the ships drove forward.

“We’re still getting you aboard that ship.”

—

Anakin:

The droids slipped between the clones like serpents through grass, slicing with red blades that felt cold and dead. Anakin met them, their six blades against his one- dancing and weaving between the swipes, their battle carrying them across the length and breadth of the whole theater, Clones fired on the droids where they could and droids fired on him in return. The fight was a sprint through the field with Anakin engaged in a running retreat to stay one step ahead of these Jedi hunters.

He slipped inside of a now blown out barracks, the interior torn to shreds by a demolition charge early in the battle.

The stink of flames flames, charred bunks, burning flesh and black smoke choked the around him, he tried to calm his racing heart. It wasn’t fear necessarily that made it race no, he’d felt fear before and this wasn’t it.

The first of the droids lunged through the open hole of what was once a window, almost folding itself in half to do so, its two feet touching down in a running sprint. Its first swing aimed for Anakin’s legs, as the Knight backed away, one foot rising to avoid the swipe and then kicking out at the thing’s chest in the same motion, making it stagger back with the sheer force of the enhanced blow, stumbling and off balance at the sudden, unexpected power that no doubt shouldn’t be possible by a human according to its databanks.

And it stood right where Anakin needed him to be.

With a pull the ceiling above cracked, breaking off in a boulder sized chunk, the droid only had the luxury of a split second’s warning in the form of dislodged dust and grit falling over his head before he was crushed under however many tons of duracrete- smashed like cheap tin.

The second and third droid rushed in, descending from the shattered ceiling. Anakin fell not into his preferred Djem-so, but rather the fluid elegance of the Makashi form, a distant echo of Dooku facing him and Obi-Wan as he taught them.

Back straight, head high, one hand behind his back- the dueling form showed its true value now, one blade fending off our with almost languid ease in his practiced hands. His footwork and long bladed saber giving him all the distance he needed here.

He danced around these machines, like Dooku danced around him and Obi-Wan. Using their own numbers against them, keeping one between himself and its twin, frustrating their efforts.

They seemed so very human in that instant. In their flaws and limits.

And these were limits.

“They really are underestimating you aren’t they?” He could almost hear Master Dooku’s voice now. Drolland amused, almost but not quite insulted at the very thought that these things would be enough to harm one of his students.

These things were built. Designed. And it takes more than fast servos and  cheap programming to kill Jedi.

All at once Anakin saw his opening, one droid rushing to get at Anakin’s side when he pivoted, so fast the droid had no time to react as he slipped under its guard and thrust his free hand into its torso, sending it flying across the room, its body suddenly skewered by rebar, clawing at itself, trying to pull itself free of its impalement.

That just left his last friend.

Anakin heard the hum of blades behind him, whirling around in time to block twin blows that would have dissected him, the two red swords crossing over eachother as they met him, with an enhancement to his body to augment his strength and a telekenetic shove he pushed three weapons towards the droid, overpowering its guard until its own lightsabers were plunging into its torso.

Or he would have, if he didn’t notice how the two red blades sputtered and sparked, bursting into burt circuitry and destroyed parts on contact.

Anakin’s eyes widened, reeling back as quickly as he could, not knowing what had just happened but knowing his own blade was not going to share their fate.

The thing dropped its sabers, lunging for his throat suddenly, iron tipped fingers digging suddenly into his throat with a choked off gasp.

He had to fight the instinct to swipe at the droid’s arms remembering the effect of whatever he was armored in.

The Knight felt his throat constrict, trying to suck down air that would not come. He grit his teeth, plans arising and discarded quickly as he tried to think.

Then, in a brief flash of something he felt it, panic, fear.

Not his.

Ahsoka?

And suddenly, he didn’t have the time to get choked out by a stupid machine.

It was like a moment of pure, transcendent clarity, the eddies and flows of the force opening itself up to him in all its breadth and depth.

Anakin’s clenched fist rose up, and when he opened his hand, fingers splayed out- The droid infront of him fell to pieces. Individual nuts, bolts and screws clinking softly on the frosted ground.

But Anakin didn’t have the time, or even the presence of mind to grasp what he did. He sensed it. Snips.

Something was wrong with snips.

And then… he felt something else.

And he knew who this was too…

Taylor.

—

Obi-Wan

Boarding the flagship Corpulentus they were under fire from the second they entered the hangar. Wrecked and flaming gunships already littered the hangar bay doors, clone dead and droid scrap piles were scattered here and there. More kept rushing in behind him; some gunships exploding in the void, caught by the screening point defense fire.

And worse than that, the thunderous exchange between turbolaser batteries roared between the two flagships, the Negotiator and the Corpulentus, the blasts seemingly shaking the artificial atmosphere of the massive ship even as Obi- Wan leapt off the troop bay and onto the hangar floors.

His blade lit up, the blue lightsaber flaring to life as he charged forward, ahead of his clones. A storm of blaster fire crashing into him like the onrushing tide.

Dooku had mastered Makashi. Obi-Wan had been drawn to Soresu.

His Master had helped him in this pursuit- and it showed now.

The red rain of bolts almost parted for him. Like liquid moving around a boulder. The blade in his hands was quicksilver, more an extension of his will and arm than an instrument. It seemed to be everywhere at once, flowing and striking, darting and weaving.

He didn’t have to worry about deflecting the bolts- protecting the men behind him was enough. Because the clones followed, ever dutiful at his back, laying down heavy fire onto the battle droids that had assembled to try and repel them

He carved a trench through the droid line, reaching the Hangar Bay blast doors leading to the rest of the ship.

Locked down.

Of course.

“Trooper!” He called. “Cover me!”

The men formed a ring around him- their rifles spitting out blue fire, deployable shields dropping to the floor to give them some much needed cover as Obi-Wan plunged his saber into the heavy doors.

Immediately the door began to glow cherry red, the saber reaching and exceeding the melting point of the reinforced durasteel as Obi-Wan began to draw out the shape for a makeshift door.

The droids rushed forward, no doubt urged on by their central command platform as they realized what has happening.

Obi-Wan was pleased with his men, he only had to lean his head to the side once to avoid a stray bolt.

After a little over a minute the door fell open with a tremendous, deafening BANG

“Squads report! Unit strength?” He demanded.

“Squad seven, four casualties sir.”

“Squad nine, Full strength, minor injuries”

Squad two here, two casualties sir.

“Seventeen here- just one casualty.”

“Squad twelve, no injuries sir.”

Obi-Wan listened to the individual Squad Commanders give their shorthand reports.

“”Squad Twelve and Seventeen, you’re staying here. Secure and keep our retreat path open. You cannot lose this location.”

“Understood sir.

“The rest of you, with me, someone get us a spec of the layout. We’re heading straight for the bridge.”

—

Barris Offee

Barris remembered Cirvan.

She remembered his smiles from the days in the creche, the rare moments when he was assigned there, he’d brought them treats.

That was long ago. And staring at him now, it felt longer still.

He’d come less and less, and after she was taken as a Padawan she never saw him again-

Now she wished she’d asked. Looked for him. Maybe she wouldn’t be staring at a man who’s face was a rictus of anger and hatred. His lips twisted into a sneer and who’s wrath rolled off of his body in waves, staring at all of them with the naked intent to kill.

There was no warning when the fight started, no declaration from either side, no order given. Just a shouted warning.

“COUNCIL ANTECHAMBER! COUNCIL ANTECHAMBER NEED BACKU-”

And then there was no more time, the call for reinforcements lost amidst the cacophony of blaster fire and lightsaber strikes. In the next instant it was chaos and pure frantic movements.

Weber and Cid fired their weapons, their stolen sabers crackling against the assassin droids, she feared Weber would be cut in half in an instant before the saber smashed and was stopped by his Beskar breastplate. Letting his armor take the damage as he used his still free blaster to fire point blank into the Droid’s chest and face.

Cid’s shotgun barked again, the noise deafeningly loud, a sheet of physical scattershot smashing into the assassin droid’s middle and chest. He cocked and fired again, but the machine whirled out of the way, almost dancing around the widespread shot as he whirled to close the distance, twin blades smashing into Cid’s hastily raised defense, the CQC specialist clone not having his saber hand free to cock the shotgun again simply used the weapon as a literal beat stick, smashing it into the droids face, sending it reeling.

And then two clones were in front of them, in front of her, screaming out a warning as they shoved her out of the way and Barris, hearing their screams realized as one of the men fell in two pieces in front of her she’d come mere inches from death.

He’d taken the blow for her.

Cirvan’s cold stare sent a fear she’d never known crawling up and down her spine. The world fell away, the noise died out. Everyone and everything was so distant as the man raised his blade and brought it down.

Fast. He was too fast.

Or she was just too slow.

A flash. A crackling snap of electricity blinded her and Barris reeled, screaming in shocked pain to her retinas as she stepped back and almost tripped over her own robes, barely catching her feet in time.

“Get away from her!” Cal shouted, his voice quivering with his own fear even as he struggled mightily to hold the saber at bay with trembling arms.

“HAH!” Ahsoka, little Ahsoka roared as she leapt through the air, twin blades raised over her head to stab down.

Cirvan moved, physically shoving Cal away before he reached up with the Force, grasping Ahsoka’s throat so tightly in his telekenetic grip she could see the Togruta’s throat undulating and moving unnaturally even from here, bruising beginning to form already.

The Torguta’s eyes went wide, her battlecry literally being choked off in her windpipe as she was held above the Dark Jedi’s head. In desperation she threw one of her lightsabers at the man; the green blade nearly cleaving his skull open before he jerked to the side to avoid it, the green blade burying itself in the floor.

Iskt rushed forward, his blue blade flashing as he swung at the man’s exposed back, only for Cirvan to whirl around, his sheer speed nearly beheading the large Trandoshan.

But then Iskt wasn’t there, his head suddenly reappearing to her slow eyes as he ducked under the swing, driving forward with his full body to smash into Cirvan’s spine in a tackle that could have dented a speeder car.

Cirvan grunted, stumbling and then falling forward, Ahsoka fell on her knees to the hard floor, gasping for air, clawing at her throat and Barris finally had enough presence of mind to move, rushing to her friend’s side to make sure she was alright.

“Ahsoka! Ahsoka!” She said, for lack of anything else to say, grabbing hold of the smaller Torguta and pulling her away from the fight, an effort Ahsoka aided, trying to push with her trembling feet at the floor.

Cirvan tried to hold his footing but Iskt, very deliberately tripped the man, sweeping one foot out from underneath him to bring them both to the ground. She saw the dark Jedi’s elbow reel back around, his torso twisting, and the blow he landed to Iskt’s skull sounded like a gunshot. The Trandoshan losing his grip and the man turned fully, now fighting- punching and elbowing, all he couldn’t do was stab, Iskt had a firm hold on the man’s saber arm and he was not letting go.

But then, through too many blows or supreme effort Cirvan yanked his arm out of Iskt’s grip, the Trandoshan’s claws leaving scratches and tears in the dark robes as Cirvan raised his blade and brought it down.

“NO!” Karla finally moved, a force push exploding out of the tiny twilek, but it barely ruffled Cirvan’s cloak, his body only just pitching forward that tiniest bit to show for her efforts.

His blade swung.

Iskt, rallying at the sight of imminent death, reached up, clutching the man’s wrist to try and hold off the death blow.

Cirvan just twisted his hand.

The blade pivoted on the axis of his wrist, slicing deep into Iskt’s shoulder and collarbone; his strength almost instantly failing him.

It still bought Trilla the split second she needed to get there.

Trilla’s purple blade swung, and Cirvan jerked his head back, avoiding the decapitating strike before retaliating, his swing strong enough that Trilla almost cut into her face with her own lightsaber as her guard nearly buckled.

Cal rushed in, leaping high in a flip, and slashing down onto the man’s head at the height of his jump.

Cirvan leaned back again, frustration beginning to bubble up within him as he was continuously thwarted in his attempts at finishing them off.

Cal and Trilla drove forward, nearly charging into the fight with reckless wild desperation as Iskt struggled to get back to his feet, Karla rushing to his side.

“Enough!” Cirvan snarled.

The next thing Barris knew, Trilla’s hand and her saber, were flying through the air; sliced off at the wrist.

“TRILLA!” Someone screamed, Barris wasn’t sure who.

“What the fu-” She heard Weber’s voice behind her, surprised and suddenly choked off, turning her head, she found the scout grasped in a droid’s iron grip, the clone’s stolen saber sparking in his hand with the smell of burnt circuitry.

Barris felt a sudden need, a need to move to do something.

She’d liken it to panic but that wasn’t quite it.

She reached with the Force, focusing, trying to make the droid’s grip loosen and knew she succeeded when Webber sucked down a breath and the droid whipped its head around, lightning fast to stare straight at her.

And taking its eyes off of Weber.

A pistol was pulled. Not a Blaster. Stuffed under the droid’s chin, before the trigger was pulled.

A deafening bang and the top of the droid’s skull exploded upwards like a volcano blowing its top, a single armor piercing round penetrating through the plating, circuitry and structure of the droid to drill a hole directly into the ceiling above them.

The droid fell like a doll, Weber tossing his apparently destroyed saber to steal another.

Ahsoka began to lurch to her feet, Iskt as well practically crawling to reach his saber.

But that still left Cal alone

The Sith advanced on the isolated Padawan. His saber locking with Cal’s as he suddenly brute forced Cal’s blade, his only defense to the side, giving Cirvan a clear blatant opening opening to punch Cal dead in the face so hard his whole body seemed to go utterly limp , his arms slackening, legs shaking as he swayed.

Cirvan grabbed hold of the back of Cal’s head and with a horrid sound of bone breaking the red headed Padawan’s face was smashed against the marble floors with a burst of blood.

He wasn’t moving.

Barris felt her whole body go cold, the fear that gripped her heart nearly paralyzing. She felt Ahsoka’s fingers tighten over Barris arms and coiled her own arms around the still gasping Ahsoka, feeling the both of them trembling.

Cal.. Cal wasn’t moving.

Burst fire from a rifle spat out, blue bolts deflected by Cirvan’s red blade, one of the last four remaining troopers trying to help, only to get a shot in the chest for his efforts, deflected back into him.

He staggered, his armor holding, though he stumbled back, Cirvan advancing on him.

Barris gathered her courage at long last, realizing she couldn’t leave the clone to die and pulled her green blade from her waist with trembling hands as she rushed forward. The clone trying to stagger back and gain some distance as she rushed to try and help.

She wasn’t quiet, she couldn’t have been.

Even though she did not make a sound with her voice and held her silence, she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, so loud the whole temple could probably hear it. Her footsteps were quick, but the floor was marble and her shoes hard. The saber hummed like a living being in her hand. And she knows in her heart of hearts that she called to the Force to guide her true.

He knew she was coming. Probably before she’d even taken the decision to intervene.

But in that moment, desperation, fear and even the kernel of hope, blinded her. And Barris rushed forward, praying to anything that would listen that she could bring this to a close. That the pain and the fear and the darkness would stop.

She swung, her blade fast and true, looking to slice his head off from behind.

And then he moved.

He ducked under her swing and Barris had the briefest, flash of warning in the force before pain consumed her entire being.

She began to fall. She tried to stop herself, her legs moving, and yet not. She felt the moment something… detached. The way she fell was odd, too quick, toosharp.

When she hit the cold, unyielding floor the air was driven out of her lungs and the pain sang through her body, her lightsaber tumbling free from her fingers and Barris tried to scream, the tears beginning to percolate at the edges of her eyes as she heard Ahsoka scream behind her, heard the clashing of blades in a frenzy of crackling sounds and flashing bursts of light.

She tried to crawl for her blade.

Her legs weren’t moving.

Barris’ vision swam, darkness creeping along the edges of her sight.

“STOP THIS HORROR!”

She recognized the shout as Master Rancisis, the Jedi Council Master emerging from his battle meditation in the chamber above to help them.

But she didn’t feel relief.

All she felt… was cold.

‘It’s.. It’s so cold.’

—

Unduli:

Unduli knew, academically, that the Besalisk species were one of the physically strongest in the galaxies, Right up there with Wookies, Houks and Trandoshans.

But it was one thing to know and another thing to experience it.

The alien almost single handedly smashed through firing lines, his heavy armor practically shrugging off insane levels of concentrated fire, the nearly half a meter thick durasteel doing what even shields would have had trouble to replicate. His twin heavy canons tore apart whole squadrons of men.

All the while he kept advancing, kept pursuing her, punching a hole through the lines of clones to reach her.

She understood that, and had already adapted and planned to exploit it. But still- it was almost frightening the sheer raw power of this species when unleashed like this.

“General.” The acting Clone commander rushed up to her, snapping a sharp salute. “Ma’am, if we don’t spring this trap soon, we’ll lose this spaceport!”

Luminara nodded, sensing the man's anger and rage at the loss of his clone brothers and his understandable frustration at her apparent passivity.

“I understand Lieutenant we’ll-”

Her body froze.

It was like a shard of ice stabbed into her brain, the feeling of cold and pain and fear and loss and panic and all things dark and frightful a mind could conjure.

Her mind slipped into confusion, losing sight, losing sound and smell and all things in the present, all things in the here and now.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think, her hand rose to her chest, pain burning through her heart, her limbs shaking as her remaining hand reached for something to hold her up, settling on the startled arm of the Clone Lieutenant, barely hearing his startled call of her title, and then another for a medic.

Barris, something was wrong with Barris!

“GENERAL!”

She came back to herself, reality coming into focus like the crack of a thunderbolt.

She was on her knees, skin flushed in cold sweat, the battle still raging around her, closer this time.

She opened her mouth, and found herself struggling to form words, to form thought. Two decisions making battle in her- she, who had never indulged in doubt did not know what to do in this moment; her two responsibilities classing so utterly and irrevocably.

She looked up, staring at the grim faced mask that was the clone trooper’s helmet.  The emotions of her apprentice mingling with the chaos of the battle around her. The pain, the desperation it all melded together so badly she couldn’t even tell what the man infront of her was feeling.

“I… I don’t-”

“Got’chu Heh-heh-heh.”

The voice was as loud as a klaxon in her mind. And Luminara snapped her head to the left, just in time to see the Besalisk charge like a rampaging bull across the battlefield, his massive slab of a shield now doubling as a literal battering ram, as he smashed clones aside, breaking their bodies under the sheer weight of the steel, the crackling maul shattering armor and bones.

One of his heavy guns was destroyed, dragging behind him, because the behemoth didn’t even bother to unsling it, uncaring about the weight as two of his tree trunk like arms grasped the maul and swung at her with all his might.

She shoved the Clone lieutenant out of the way, the main sailing across the battlefield as she drew her blade, just badely diverting the blow to land at her side, rather than on her skull as she scrambled, backpedaling to her feet.

She was unnerved, unbalanced, the certainty and surety of herself that she’d always relied on vanishing like morning dew under the harsh glare of the sun.

The Besalisk surged forward, the slab of his shield physically pushing her blade aside, sheer physics of mass allowing it enough resistance to the heat to physically force her lightsaber out of the way before he yanked the shield up, and one of his four fists came sailing out from behind it.

The meaty limb smashed into her side and Unduli felt her body, even reinforced as it was, break under the titanic blow. The air exploded from her lungs, blood and spittle flying free of her lips, the blade slipping free from her hands as she was sent crashing into an ammunition crate, rockets and missiles spilling free all around her as she struggled to force air back into her lungs.

“Now now! Spring it now!”

“We’re not all in positio-”

“JUST DO IT!”

The Besalisk charged forward again, the shield raised high, ready to come down and crush her when a shot, bright blue and shining like a lance of light ripped through the air, tearing a hole through the soft meat at the back of the titanic alien’s leg, the sniper shot exploding out of his shin in a hole of cooking meat.

The monster roared, rearing around to fire his heavy repeater towards the revealed sniper perch, the Clone ducking back into cover as quickly as he was able even as droids with jetpacks sailed to his position on high powered jumps to save their commander.

Another shot, but this time, the shield took it, the anti armor rocket crashing into the thick slab of steel with a sound of screaming rending metal. The weakness made by her lightsaber half melting through a section making the underside of the tower shield fly off.

Unduli tried to get to her feet, the strength in her legs failing her as the Clone troopers rushed to her side.

The Besalisk noticed, his sneer becoming angry and hateful, roaring with his throat pouch undulating at the volume as he charged her again, ready to kill her as his last act if nothing else.

The Clones however, would not have it, rushing forward, physically interposing themselves between her and the attacker that had laid her low. Blaster bolts now found rents in the armor, one clone launched himself forward grabbing hold of one of those tree trunk sized arms a bandolier of grenades in hand that went off.

The Besalisk roared! Crying out in pain as the arm that wielded the last of his heavy repeaters was now a mangled ruin of mulched flesh. His shock maul and the remains of his shield the only weapons left to him. She saw men physically crushed like sacks of meat under the weight and impact of either weapon. Still trying to reach her.

She felt the intent of one clone, having reached his position and gathering all the focus she could, even as some of her men bodily dragged her away she reached and pulled, the Besalisk falling to his ruined knee as the telekenetic pressure overcame his sheer brute strength for a moment.

The sniper had a clean shot.

The next bolt fired out, going slightly wide, but still it struck near the back of the Besalisk’s skull, tearing a chunk out.

The thing staggered, almost drunk, its body not quite realizing, not quite accepting it was dead yet.

“‘Ill..’ou” Its words were slurred, either by the damage or the blood filling his throat she wasn’t sure.

Then it reared back, like a braying beast. One arm rising and heaving with all that was left of its strength to hurl that maul straight at her face.

Unduli’s mind blanked. Caught off guard by the sheer hatred he must’ve felt, the rage, or something that must’ve been there for him to wish a Jedi dead so badly.

She tried to act, her focus coming too slow, too sluggish.

Then the maul veered sharply, unnaturally to the left, smashing into the floor at her side, its crackling head ripping into the steel floors.

She turned her head, searching and Master Cere stood dozens of meters away, covered in soot and grime, her robes a ruin much like Unduli’s as she stared with those too wide eyes, her face and robes a mess of blood

The fight wasn’t over. Droids and men still battled around the both of them, Death and fire rained all around them.

But they both felt it.

They both knew it. She could see in in Master Cere’s eyes, just as surely as Cere could see it in hers.

Something was terribly wrong with their Padawans.

—

Baris Offee:

She came to with a gasp, finding a ghoulish face staring down at her.

Her hands rose, clawing in blind panic at armor mesh and plating, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she felt as though she’d run a hundred times around the temple.

Her fingernails scraped against the mask and armor, hands grasped at her wrists, holding pulling her away and she writhed on the floors, trying to kick only to find her legs not cooperating.

It was only as the voice pierced through the hazy fugue of her panicked mind that she recognized who was above her-

Weber, this was Weber’s voice.

“Calm down! Calm down lil’ commander!”

She breathed, gasped and cried, sobbing desperately for Master Unduli, her screams echoing loudly even in her own ears and through the Force.

“Hell- I need Prachett here! All units I say again, Infiltrator unit found on Antechamber to council room! Padawans and Council Member under- BLOW UP THE FRAKKING ELEVATOR SHAFT FOR ALL I CARE JUST GET HERE!”

Warm hands grasped at her face, Webber leaned in close his voice becoming uncharacteristically soft. “Just stay conscious for me alright lil commander? Just stay looking at me.”

She could hear the fight, somewhere in the room, somewhere close. Lightsaber clashed with lightsaber, a gun barked and spat, she tried to turn her head, to look, but Webber stopped her, hands over her head taking firm but gentle hold and making sure she couldn’t see.

“None of that now just look at me. Focus on me alright?

But she could see it, reflected in the sheen of his black and gold armor, Master Rancisis clashing with Cirvan, Cid fighting what might have been the last of the droids a ways away. His gun spitting out armor piercing rounds as the droid staggered and stumbled against the assault.

“They are children! Children Cirvan!”

“Not anymore. You made them Soldiers.”

Master Rancisis, tail whipped around, looking to trip the Dark Jedi but Cirvan was ready, leaping over the strike to flip over Master Rancisis head, their blades clashing mid leap.

“You rely on saplings barely worth being called Padawans. Make exceptions to your precious code for abominations so long as they prove useful. Twist and contort yourselves to make the order fit a Republic that’s rotten and filthy to its very core. That you can’t see any of this shows Sidious was right about all of you!

Barris tried to move. Tried to shift her position again… but her legs weren’t helping.

No… worse.

She couldn’t feel them at all.

Tears bloomed anew along the edges of her eyes, and she dared to try and look.

Her breath came in short, breathy gasps. Her chest rose and fell rapidly but she couldn’t seem to get any air. Her lungs burned and her throat was cold.

Her fingers clutched at Webber, the Clone trooper grasping her hand tightly as he spoke words she didn’t register.

“My legs” She mumbled- then cried. “WHERE ARE MY LEGS!?”

—

Obi Wan:

Obi-Wan felt his breathing was heavy- by the time they reached the bridge.

They’d been fought every step of the way. B-1’s, B-2’s, even what felt like a brigade of nothing but Droideka.

More than half the men he’d brought with him were dead in the halls behind him. They’d torn through power stations, sabotaged reactors, demolished ammunition depots and repair bays.

Even if Pors Tonith was not here, this ship wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Still, he readied himself, the men re-checking weapons and charging blasters behind him. Ready to carve his way through the final doorway before it- opened.

The doors peeled back like the layers of a fruit, revealing a fully staffed bridge.

The droids stood at their stations, still controlling the ship, B-2 security units and Droideka pointed an array of blasters their way.

Standing at the command dais, his target.

“Hmmm.” The Munn drawled. “You are…” He squinted, the expression almost pinched. “The Jedi Kenobi?”

The question seemed genuine, relaxed even. As though they were speaking for the first time at a private gala rather than the moment they had eachother at proverbial gun/sword point.

Still, there was no need to be rude.

“I am.” He answered. “And you are Admiral Pors Tonith.”

“The very same.” The Munn offered a slight bow, a smile tugging at his lip. “I must say you are quite impressive. Our calculations predicted we would have at least slowed you down for significantly longer than this. Your dossier clearly did not do your blade skills justice.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. It was interesting that the Separatists seemed to have a dossier for him in particular, but that was a question for later.”

Raising his blade, he pointed at the admiral. “I don’t suppose you’ll make this simple and surrender.”

“Not quite yet.” The Munn answered with a glibness that made Obi-Wan wary. “I have… a proposal.”

“You’re in no position to make demands.” He answered immediately. “We have your fleet surrounded. Its not a matter of if you lose this battle but how long it takes to happen.”

“Indeed. And while it goes on, many many of your clones will die for it.” He said and Obi-Wan felt the anger of the troopers behind him. “Aren’t Jedi supposed to value life?”

Obi-Wan frowned, seeing where this was going.

“Lets… roll the dice shall we say?” Pors said. “You win, I order my entire force to stand down immediately. No more dead clones. No more damage to the republic fleet. An entire battlegroup of ours captured intact along with myself of course.” He said, placing one hand over his chest. “Our information, ship designs, modifications, droid updates and security codes. Why… A treasure trove. No damage, no corrupted data. All of it.”

Kenobi raised an eyebrow “And all I need to do is accept some mystery wager?”

“I will even tell you what it is.” He said. “A duel.”

He scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh but I am.” Pors answered and with a beckoning hand a black armored droid marched out from somewhere behind the throne.

It was a ghoulish thing. Tall, skeletal thin, its face a bone white monstrosity that resembled the skulls of so many galactic species.

“The EG-5 Jedi Hunter droid.” Pors said. “Your fellow Jedi on the planet have already discovered its charms. This one, is specially designed as my bodyguard.” He offered a shrug. “As I said, you win. And I stand down at once. It’s as you said- your victory in the battle is a ‘when’ not an if.

“Meaning that you have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”

“And you have the lives of your men that you say you value.” The alien crowed.

Obi-Wan snorted, looking at the droid and sizing it up.

Honestly, either by force or by this ‘gamble’ he’d likely end up fighting the blasted thing anyway.

“Very well.”

“General” One of the men hissed, soft enough to be a whisper but the reproach in his voice was clear.

“It’s alright trooper.” He said. “I have no intention of dying to a droid wielding a Lightsaber. My Master will never let me hear the end of it if I allowed it.” He said with a smirk tugging at his lip.

The machine marched forward; two lightsabers falling into its grip. Immediately Obi-Wan noted the blade hilts, utilitarian, blank, soulless. It was a blade made for a machine by a machine, with nothing of what made the Lightsaber a lightsaber.

Its stance was… an amalgamation. Ataru was the base. Acrobatic, nimble. It was a machine designed to overwhelm with raw brute force of a machine that was dead to the force itself.

They underestimate the capabilities of Jedi. He could almost hear Dooku’s voice now, the droll tone betraying just the barest hint of amusement that masked the insult he surely would have felt.

The Clones backed away, Obi-Wan stood at the door, unwilling to enter the bridge where he’d be surrounded.

Still, that was well enough, the droid politely marched out to meet him.

There was no ‘formality’ to the start of the duel. It was a machine and it acted like it.

Once it was in arms reach it swung, and Obi Wan’s blade rose to meet it.

Twin red swords crackled and spat, Obi-Wan fell back onto his Soresu, making note of the fact that he could not give it too long. Machines, unlike organics, did not tire.

Its movements were fast, as he’d expected, but they were also predictable. Text book. It met the defensive form with raw aggression, mistaking passivity for an advantage.

This machine was dangerous… for Padawan’s certainly. Perhaps, even young knights.

But not for him.

As expected, Ataru was the foundation of its style, Juyo as well given its raw aggression.

But little else.

The machine whirled and swung, ducked and weaved. It tried many tricks to get through Obi-Wan’s guard. Picture perfect. Its form too perfect. Too… programed.

Obi-Wan lowered his blade ever so slightly.

And the droid’s answering thrust… was entirely expected. Baited even.

Obi-Wan swung-

And his Lightsaber… died.

The blue blade fizzled out with a sputtering spark, singing his hand as he cried in surprise, a warning blooming in the force before he backed away, barely avoiding the counterswipe.

Cortosis!? He balked in abject surprise, realizing at once the horrifying implications.

He felt alarm from his men, and an oozing radiating smugness emerging from the Munn, confident now that he was effectively disarmed.

Well; more’s the fool. Obi-Wan had the force. He was never without options.

He reached out with his hand, and Pors suddenly lost the smile on his face as he was very violently and literally yanked from his dais, jerked towards Obi-Wan, clear across the room.

The other B-1’s and B-2’s reacted in confusion, turning to look, even as Obi-Wan himself divided his attention between pulling the Munn towards him and physically dodging the Jedi Hunter droid.

Mid swing, Pors was there, interposed between Obi-Wan and the droid- the black armored machine halting dead in its tracks.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?” The munn gasped.

Obi-Wan heard his men priming rifles, ready for a fight. The droid tried to skirt around Pors, Obi-Wan moved, keeping the alien between the two of them.

“You said it yourself.” He noted drolly. “Its programmed to be your guard. If I were a gambling man I’d wager that it will not strike you at all. So you, Admiral, make for quite the handy shield, seeing as how your toy destroyed my Saber.”

“This was not part of the agreement.” He seethed.

“I’m altering our deal.” He very deliberately turned the Munn around, forcing him to face the veritable wall of white armored troopers all leveling their rifles at him. “Pray I’m not forced to alter it further…” He didn’t smile. Not really. His expression was all teeth and satisfied malice.

“Now.” He demanded. “Order the fleet to stand down. You don’t want me to do it for you.”

—

Rancisis

The Jedi Council member dueled the fallen knight with all the skill at his disposal. It had been many years since he’d wielded his blade with the intent to kill another blade wielder, and it showed. He was not slow, nor outskilled. But Cirvan was a wholly different beast to the young man he remembered.

He struck with rage and pent up, bottled fury, his red hued skin seemingly flushed with his wrath and hatred.

He spied the last of the droids blasted apart by one of Master Taylor’s personal squadron- but the man had lost one of his arms at the shoulder, leaning heavily against the wall, struggling to reload his weapon. The last Padawan, the only one uninjured, Karla, rushed to his side, helping him load the weapon as Rancisis continued to occupy the whole of Cirvan’s attentions.

He listened to the fallen knight. His accusations, his recriminations. But all he could feel was the desperate need for this fight to be over, for the med teams to arrive, or to rush the wounded children to the med-bay.

His mind wasn’t on the fight infront of him. Not really. It couldn’t be.

He’d tried to keep the children away from the fighting.

And this was the result.

All the while he’d been just a single floor above, too late to do anything to prevent it.

He tried to focus, tried to release his troubled thoughts into the Force.

Then the Force roiled.

He felt it, like the sun bursting to life just feet away from them and drawing closer, closer, rushing to be at their side.

Cirvan felt it as well, the Dark Jedi growing still in his frenzied attacks.

But Rancisis, recognized this.

Master Hebert was on her way.

Cirvan did not know, could not know. But he sensed his time was short. And he renewed his attacks with double the ferocity, Juyo and Ataru merging into a frenzied dervish of red blade swings and dizzying acrobatics.

Rancisis slipped into Soresu, solidifying his defense, his body physically coiling in on itself to make himself smaller, his blade a living wall of green crashing against the red tide.

They fought everywhere, and soon Cirvan’s desperation grew, feeling that… that quintessence of power rushing closer and closer.

He targeted the younglings again, forcing Rancisis out of his defenses to try and defend them, desperately intercepting the fallen Knight’s attacks with even his own flesh, the red blade carving a deep line across the length of his tail.

The pain was agonizing, but Rancisis had endured worse, and would do so again for these, his charges.

Then, there was a crash, the temple trembling and Rancisis feared the shields had somehow fallen. Or that the lines had buckled without his battle meditation to sustain them, and that the enemy artillery had drawn near enough to fire on the temple within the shield’s envelope.

But he had to shove that out of his mind as well, even as another crash and another made the temple tremble about the two of them, dust and chunks of ceiling falling down, the Clones throwing themselves over the bodies of the padawans they could reach and Rancisis shifting his focus to holding aloft the falling debris that they couldn’t hope to survive.

Cirvan lunged for him once more

Then, one last terrible crash, and the wall exploded.

A giant crab of all things rushed through the opening, its four pincers snapping and reaching, looking to carve Cirvan apart.

The fallen Knight reeled, hesitating on how to approach the monster before his blade cut apart one chitinous claw, and then the second. He ducked under the swipe that would have beheaded him before lunging for the monster’s mouth, plunging his red blade through its body and into what might have been its brain.

The monster went tense, and then collapsed. Dead.

But Rancisis felt it, his every sense prickling, if he were a feline his every hair would have been standing on end. A building sense of danger. Of dread leaking through the force itself.

Cirvan breathed heavily, his forehead breaking out into sweat, even in Illum's cold climate.

His blade was held at the ready, moving to and fro, searching for the source of that feeling of danger.

Rancisis wasn’t sure where Master Hebert appeared from.

One moment she was not there.

In the next she was.

A blade of gold whipped out, lightning fast. Too fast. And Cirvan barely reacted in time to dodge. Even so. The tip of that golden blade kissed Cirvan’s upper arm and the whole limb seemingly burst into living flame. The Dark Jedi screamed in pain, agony suffusing his force signature even as he frantically tried to smother the fires that writhed like living things.

Then, they faded. The fires guttering out, leaving only blackened, charred ruin as Master Cirvan breathed harshly through grit teeth, face scrunched up in agony

And Master Rancisis stood there, with eyes only for the woman that was now here.

He could not see her eyes.

But in this moment- he did not want to.

For he was deathly afraid of what color they might be if he did.

When she spoke, her voice was a hiss, the heat distortions already beginning to form around her; serpents of fire writhing at her shoulders.

“By the time I’m done with you- you’ll wish all I did was burn you alive, piece by piece.”

Cirvan sneered, gathering his courage. “You. The mistake in the force.”

Hebert stepped closer, her every step deliberate as she began to close the distance, tongues of fire beginning to snake their way up and around her robes, the raw heat of her fury making the flames seem cold by comparison even as the room around them became sweltering in the rapidly suffusing heat of it all.

Cirvan backed away, his features growing hesitant… fearful. The Jedi Master could only imagine what he was seeing through the eyes of the Force itself as it swirled and burned around them.

Then- cold.

He sensed the bolt of fear down her spine, the shock, the alarm.

Rancisis had been so focused on her, he didn’t see it until just now.

Cirvan- didn’t even see it coming at all.

The sound of a gunshot deafened them.

Cirvan’s chest exploded outwards. The blood scattering across the room, painting the floors between him and Hebert crimson with so much blood and gore.

The Dark Jedi stumbled forward, looking down at the ruin of his chest as though he didn’t quite understand the sight of it, then beginning to turn, trying to see who had killed him.

Karla stood there, tears streaming down her face, the gun that was too large for her clutched in her shaking hands.

Then… that expression shifted- her face a rictus of determined anger.

Rancisis and Hebert both realized what was about to happen, too late.

She cocked that scatter gun again and pulled the trigger.

Cirvan flew backwards, his body falling to the floor like so much meat as Hebert’s fury fizzled out in the cold, the dark haired woman rushing to her Padawan’s side and all but forcing the gun out of her hands.

Even as the Jedi master was pulling her away from the body, as Karla cried and tried to reach for the gun, desperate to have it back in her hands as the Clone troops finally rushed in, bypassing the sealed elevator through the hole Master Hebert had punched through the temple wall to reach them.

And like that- it was over. He knew. Through the force. Through instinct he knew.

It was done.

And yet all Rancisis could see. All he could feel.

Was that… thing.

That… conflagration of rage and hate that seemed so close to consuming everything.

He still did not dare look at Master Hebert’s eyes for a very long time.

(X)(X)(X)

Holy shit its over xD

Honestly, this battle was NOT intended to be this long (or this brutal) but it very much expanded beyond what I originally thought it would be and the fights... yeah- as you can see we aint dealing with a rated E for Everyone Clone Wars series. 

I don't even like *writing* fights xD

But still, now that the battle/fight is done, we're gonna have a lot of fun. Specifically with the aftermath of this fight. The aftermath is *always* the best part IMO. :)

Also, one thing. I've never written a battle of this scale before and while I'm happy with the *story* of the battle of illum in a broad sense, I feel like  the individual fights themselves, kind of "took over" for the big war pieces. 

Me pesonally I don't think its a huge MUST fix issue, but it is a bit of a let down to my own goals and standards that I set for myself.

Let me know what you all thing and more improtantly how to improve these big battle scenes/sequences in ways that still convey the scale without losing the huma/character element if that makes any sense.

Either way this was a lot of good fun :). 

P

I'm not guaranteeing a delay, just saying its *possible* that there might be a delay.