The Corellian League Back Story - Chapter One - Part 8

Quyn could see the smoke rising from the Coronet Municipal Complex through her thermal imaging. They were close to the grounds, but the sudden realization that perhaps they were too late struck the young smuggler with alarming finality.

“Kell…” She murmured in a tone conflicted by hope and desperation.

“I see it,” the Jedi Knight answered gravely.

The speeder bike turned past a final cluster of public buildings and apartment high rises, racing past a vacant CDF guard post and entered the expansive grounds of the complex. The trapezoidal hub framed by the three great spires rose up before them, and their gazes immediately fixed upon the smoking gouge in the front façade of the hub. At the base of the grand staircase Sith Troopers continued to file into the complex, flanked by a heavy weapons platform that hovered in place, powered by a whirring repulsor drive. Two large mass driver cannons extended from the front of the platform, trained on the gash in the hub’s façade.

“They are pressing the attack…we might still have time.” Kell observed, as he unbuckled his restraints in the sidecar and shrugged off his robe.

“Are you crazy?” Quyn asked incredulously. “You want us to take on a battalion of Sith Troopers?”

The Jedi Knight looked up at her, those forest green eyes flashing with intensity and an all too familiar smile forming on his lips. “What did you think was going to happen today? Or is this not what you were looking for when you walked into that cantina?”

Quyn flinched, her thermally enhanced gaze returning to the path before them. Taking a deep breath, she zoomed her optics in on the Sith vehicle. Atop the command deck of the weapons platform, supervising the activities of the pilot and weapons officer was a tall, slender Chiss female, her blue skin unmistakable. Dressed in a gray and black suit of fiber armor, the Chiss bore a highly customized blaster carbine slung across her back, and she surveyed the movements of the Sith Troopers as they filed through the breach into the municipal hub.

“Imperial Agent,” Quyn murmured. “This is going to be tricky.”

Kell hopped into a crouch in the speeder bike’s sidecar, and the dark, metallic glow of his lightsaber burned away the darkness. “Nothing a careful application of precision and force cannot solve.” The Jedi Knight grinned up at the young smuggler. “Now accelerate…and bring us in close.” Quyn rolled her eyes and sighed before she twisted the throttle and veered the speeder bike into a direct approach vector with the weapons platform. “Operatives aren’t easily surprised…. Those mass drivers will pulverize us.”

“Have some faith my little smuggler!”

But having relied on everything but faith to stay alive, Quyn was not prepared to entrust her life to the Force or any other hokey religion. Of course she had witnessed amazing feats of skill and impossible powers harnessed by the Jedi, but where her own well-being was concerned, a blaster and cunning had always been enough.

And then she flinched, a jolt of awareness rippling through her subconscious. Her optics focused on the Imperial Agent, the Chiss spinning atop of the repulsor platform and raising a monocular to her eyes. A swift hand motion signaled the gunner, and the platform began to rotate.

“Blast it!” The smuggler barked. “Hang on, Kell!” She banked the speeder bike hard to the right, continuing the wide turn, as the hum of the mass driver, followed by the devastating sonic boom and metallic recoil tore the air asunder. In their wake, not far along their prior vector, the concrete was blasted to energized particles, and the shockwave nearly flipped the small hover bike. Quyn tugged at the controls with a groan, the console flickering as the residual static discharge of the blast wreaked havoc with the bike’s electronics. Fighting the stick, the smuggler brought the speeder bike back on an approach vector with the weapons platform.

“Five seconds!” She yelled as the small repulsor generators on the bike began to buckle, its undercarriage sinking low to the ground.

“Let go of the controls,” Kell said calmly. “And get ready to jump.”

As Quyn flicked an incredulous gaze his way, she took note of her Jedi companion’s outstretched free hand. She felt the small craft stabilize beneath them, the Force creating a cushion beneath the bike and keeping it level. As she released the stick, Quyn felt the speeder make a slight course correction, bearing down on the rear of the weapons platform.

Quyn spared one last desperate look at Kell Malo. But as always, the Jedi Knight merely returned the concerned gaze with a glint of wry confidence through his aura of calm, deadly control. The impact was imminent, and with her hand firmly wrapped about the grip of her blaster pistol, leaped from her seat. Kell released his hold on the speeder bike at the last possible moment, and with the Force propelling him, leaped high into a tightly coiled summersault. The speeder collapsed against the ground, its momentum sending it tumbling end over end until it finally struck the rear the of the weapons platform with a tremendous explosion. Kell’s momentum carried him over the blistering heat of the explosion, his impossible leap ending with his feet planting firmly atop the mass driver’s generators.

Thankfully the weapons platform had been deployed on a sprawling lawn at the base of the municipal center’s grand staircase. Quyn tucked into a roll as she struck the ground, cushioned only slightly by the soft earth. The smuggler popped deftly into a crouch, as the heat of the speeder bike exploding lapped over her. Scanning her surroundings, Quyn cursed under her breath as a squad of Sith Troopers advanced toward her. With precious little time, she glanced back over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of Kell, as the Jedi engaged the Sith atop the weapons platform.

“Jaxon…no!” But Bel’s warning had come too late.

The Jedi Knight made one head over heels roll, as he launched himself high and toward the catwalk. The flight of his Force Leap was true, but he had not accounted for the will of powerful Sith opposing them. Darth Xisix scowled maliciously, his red Pureblood eyes flashing with wicked intensity, as he reached out and unleashed a torrent of Force Lightning.

Jaxon sensed the attack, and with a desperate contortion of his body deflected the blue spears of lightning with his lightsaber. But the power of the dark side and his own momentum could not be controlled, and his leap ended with a discordant tumble over the railing and onto the catwalk. The HKs opened fire, and the Jedi Knight awkwardly deflected the plasma bolts from his haunches.

“Impulsive fool,” Bel admonished. “Defend yourselves…” The old Consular flicked a hurried gaze toward Tormax. “No matter what happens…you must break through and access the database in the protected archives. There is something here…Noval was right.”

Stepping ahead of Darth Xisix, the two Zabrak Sith Warriors ignited pairs of crimson lightsabers, assuming the Juyo stance with matched movements. Overhead, the HKs and Bounty Hunter on the right catwalk opened fire. Thrusting up both hands, Bel formed a dome of Force energy over the three Consulars that repelled the incoming fire. Perth lashed out with the Force as well, first grasping then twisting the support struts of the catwalk.

Karissa spied the Jedi’s movements, understood his intent, felt the catwalk buckle beneath her feet, and heard the cry of twisting metal. Desperately, the Bounty Hunter thrust out her arm, and prepared to fire a half-dozen, small Tracer missiles from her gauntlet. The support struts at one of end of the platform buckled and finally gave way, and the catwalk plummeted violently to a 45-degree angle. Karissa lurched forward, as the Tracer rockets leaped from her gauntlet. The small projectiles launched up and away from the deteriorating catwalk, smoke trails twisting and turning haphazardly through the lofts of the archival chamber. They struck several of the pillars at the back of the chamber, gouts of fire and spurts of electricity engulfing the archives in the wake of the initial explosion.

The Rattataki clung to the handrail as the catwalk continued to twist and groan beneath her. HK-50s tumbled passed her in a discordant clatter, metal limbs flailing as they slid down the length of the collapsing platform. It was then that Karissa realized she had little choice. A controlled slide down the catwalk was far more appealing than being impaled on the jagged remnant of some support beam. Deftly, she angled herself and slid down the platform, leaping gracefully into the shadows some ten feet from the bottom.

An alarm sounded throughout the archival chamber, a high-pithed howl that sounded a warning. “Brilliant…” Perth groaned. “Looks like that fool Bounty Hunter has damaged the coolant system.” He finally ignited his orange lightsaber, as he shifted calmly into the balanced, ready position of his mastered Soresu form. “We must not be delayed here…or the entire spire may come down on top of us.”

“We have more pressing matters, my friend,” Tormax reminded, feet shifting forward toward the advancing Zabrak warriors. “Make ready!” The slow, predatory approach of the two Sith Warriors gave way to an aggressive dash toward the Jedi.

“You two…take the one on the right!” Bel ordered.

The old Consular allowed the dome of Force energy to dissipate, as the three Consulars stepped into the Sith advance.

Jaxon was still on his haunches, shuffling backwards along the catwalk, deflecting bolt after bolt fired at him by the advancing HK droids. Without having to look he sensed the platform was coming to an end behind him. He hadn’t the time or patience to keep up this game with these programmed killers. With the Force to propel him, Jaxon sprang into a tightly coiled somersault. As he arced over the advancing HKs, their blaster rifles rising and training on his new trajectory, he thrust out his free hand and unleashed the strongest Force push he could muster. He had little leverage behind the push, but he needed only a moment of disorientation from the droids. The six HKs stumbled awkwardly, and coupled with the sudden need to reposition themselves, gave the Jedi Knight all the opening he needed.

Jaxon shifted from Shien to Djem So and sprang at the HKs. His body and lightsaber flowed in a viscous ballet of speed and strength, the force his ally, aggression his righteous fuel. He cut a swath through the droids, lithely coiling past blaster fire as he impaled one of the HKs. Spits of electricity from fried circuits leaped at his arms, and his forward momentum carried him past the robot, his free hand rooting another HK in place with the Force as he twisted around the first. He tore his lightsaber free, its deadly arc severing the rooted HK’s head from its body. Behind him the heavy thud of metallic steps sounded. He spun with his palm extended, thrusting instinctively with the Force. The HK spun backward, clipping the railing and tumbling in a desperate spiral to the ground below. Only a single HK remained, and with a surprising sense of self-preservation the droid moved slowly away from the Jedi Knight along the catwalk. Jaxon flashed an almost unnoticeable grin, though he was quick to temper his aggression and regain a sense of calm. But as he advanced on the droid, another explosion rocked the archival chamber and several more pillars collapsed in a shower of sparks and burning ozone. At the far end of the catwalk the support struts buckled, and Jaxon made ready to leap away.

The Sith Warrior’s mastery of the Juyo form was astounding, dual lightsabers moving and whirring in a symphony of deft precision. For every twist and turn, every feint and disguised attack from flashing green and orange of Tormax and Perth’s lightsabers, the Zabrak warrior was there. Even when pressed from two flanks, the Sith was able to counter each of the Jedis’ coordinated attacks.

Nearby, Bel Drayson was equally pressed, if not outmatched by the ferocity and prowess of the Sith. The old Master had once been an accomplished duelist, but that had been a long time ago. Strike upon dark side infused strike by the powerful Zabrak was repelled by Bel’s blue saber. But each blow rocked him to his core, and he painfully gave ground.

Darth Xisix grinned malevolently, and he advanced from the command console, his arms extending in a wide arc from his body. Rippling, blue Force lightning leaped from all of his fingers and coalesced into a crackling sphere of terrible dark side malice before him. Thrusting his hands together, Xisix sent the ball of lightning hurtling toward Bel. The Consular sensed the attack, but his attempt to erect a Force barrier was far too late. The dastardly attack struck him with full vehemence, blasting the Jedi a dozen paces across the chamber toward the elevator doors. He crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap, the remnants of the Force lightning dissipating beneath his robes.

Perth disengaged the Sith Warrior. “Uncle!” He cried out.

His vision dimmed and swimming in a disoriented fog, Bel reached out and stayed Perth’s advance. “No!” He commanded meagerly. “Tormax…we cannot be delayed here…get to the protected archives. Quickly now!”

Even as his saber intercepted a dual strike from his opponent, Tormax eyes registered a mixed look of defiance and reticence. He could not leave them here. His head darted toward Perth.

His friend nodded. “Go.” And with that Perth intercepted the Zabrak’s next attack, his knees buckling slightly under the weight of the blow.

Tormax spared his friend a final, almost forlorn look, before dashing away. With the force accelerating his steps, the Jedi sprinted past Darth Xisix, past the command console, and into the shadows of those archival pillars still standing amidst growing flames.

With a hiss of vehemence, the Sith Inquisitor gave chase.

Grimacing in pain, his teeth gnashing away the fatigue, Bel climbed to his feet. The Zabrak, malice twisting a yearning grin on his tattooed face, advanced on the ailing Consular, lightsabers prepared to strike. Through the ringing in his ears, Bel heard the humming of lightsabers, and the crackling of multiple impacts, as Perth attempted to keep the other Sith Warrior at bay.

Bel Drayson, distinguished Consular of the Jedi Order, meekly raised his saber close to his body, an indigo pall drawing over his face. Drawing a deep breath, he prepared to become one with the force. Time slowed as the Sith descended upon him, spinning in a whirlwind of dark energy and crimson hurricane of saber light, and Bel sensed a sudden rush of Force energy. Jaxon’s leap from atop the catwalk had been true, his lightsaber intercepting both of the spinning Sith blades and stopping the Warrior’s advance. The full weight of the physical and spiritual strength came to bear on one another, the spite-filled enmity within the Sith’s yellow eyes boring into Jaxon. But the Jedi Knight would not yield. This was his path. Destiny chosen.

The saga continues... Chapter One - Part 9