Rakata Prime, Darth Scelus
Once his apprentice and the agent were seated on either side of him, Scelus ordered the driver to take off. The speeder kicked on and was steered out of the speeder bay and onto the path leading from the temple and into the jungle beyond. The speeder shot through the dense foliage in the direction of the temple Scelus and his archaeological team had uncovered. As they neared the dig site, Scelus was practically salivating beneath his mask at the prospect of what they would find in the temple. He locked his gaze on the tip of the temple as it came in sight above the trees and continued staring as the speeder neared the temple and came to stop.
Scelus was the first out of the speeder, his cloak slithering along behind him as he made his way up the old and partially crumbling stone steps of the temple without regard to the two who had accompanied him here. He was far too excited to wait on them to enter the temple now that his team had tunneled into the heart of it. The Dark Jedi guarding the entrance bowed to him as they moved to either side and let him pass. He quickened his pace once he entered the vine-covered hall, running his hand along the wall to his left; his high-reaching black boots made clicking noises on the stone floor beneath him, echoing and bouncing off of the walls of the ancient and abandoned temple.
Scelus allowed the dark energy of the place to flow through him and strengthen him. As he walked along, he used his connection the Force to follow the dark energy down to its source. There were various groups of Dark Jedi going about their work of searching the temple, deciphering glyphs carved on the walls, and tunneling off in other directions so the entirety of the temple could be explored. Scelus had made it a priority to tunnel a straight path to the heart of the temple first, however; luckily, while tunneling the dig team had disabled the traps along the way, although many Dark Jedi were lost to some of the traps. Scelus didn’t care how many they had lost to get to the center of the temple, though. It was well worth it in his opinion.
As he neared the entrance to the tomb, Scelus dropped his hand to his hand, resting it on the hilt of his lightsaber. On his orders, no one had stepped foot in the tomb; he was to be the first to enter, which meant the traps were still very much active within. As he made his first step into the room, a pressure plate down under his weight. Spikes shot up from all around him, but with the Force Scelus was able to anticipate this and jump high up and over the spikes, landing just outside of the death cage. He looked back up the tunnel, awaiting the agent sent to serve him. He would have him find and disable any traps and fight any threats present in the room. He had spent years studying the Rakata people, and if he knew them as well as he thought there would be other threats in the tomb beside the traps.
Csilla, Krios Gerulin
“Yes, I agree with Roze. Master Vyt, you and your Padawan can go in one direction and search for Master Greon’s Padawan while Roze and I look for Master Greon himself.”
The Kel Dor nodded to the two Knights and turned to lead his Padawan down the hall away from them. Krios saw that the young Trogruta looked paler now that they had infiltrated the prison and were getting ready to split up and search for the captured Jedi. Krios placed a hand on the young Padawan, stopping him from following his Master, who stopped once he noticed the Togruta wasn’t following him.
“Don’t be afraid. Trust in your abilities and those of your Master. You have the Force on your side,” Krios said as he patted the Padawan on the shoulder and allowed him to follow his Master. With a nod to the Kel Dor, Krios turned back to Roze.
He led the way down the dark hall, using the Force to conceal his and Roze’s presence; it took a lot of concentration, but he was able to do it as long as he didn’t have to fight. If he did, then the concealment would break, and they would most likely be discovered. They couldn’t afford that, because if they were, finding the Jedi would be nearly impossible. Krios stopped a corner and peaked around it to scan the hall beyond. Seeing that it was clear, Krios gave the all-clear signal to Roze and then came round the corner and continued down the hall.
The two Jedi Knights followed the circular pattern of the prison in their attempt to find the Jedi Master. As they made their way down another hall, the sound of footsteps suddenly met their ears. Krios forze and began peering around for some kind of doorway, but there was none to be found in the hall. He frantically looked around, and then his eyes locked on a vent overhead. He tugged at her arm and directed her gaze to the vent; he was unable to use the Force to pull the grate from the vent without lowering their concealment.
Jedi Master Vyt and Padawan Bahkto
The Kel Dor Jedi Master crept along the hallway, using the Force to conceal his presence, followed suit by his Padawan, who was using the Force to do the same. The Trogruta was young, barely seventeen years of age; he was scared, not as much now since Krios’s words of wisdom. Vyt thought back on what the Drell had said to his Padawan; the Drell was wise for his age and would make a good Master some day. Zetram must be very proud of the Jedi Shadow he once took as a Padawan. Vyt held the same pride for his student, even though he hadn’t completed his training yet. Vyt stopped at a corner, throwing up his hand to signal for Bahkto to do the same. The older of the pair peered around the corner and down the hall; there were several Dark Jedi about halfway down the hall standing and talking to one another.
“There are three Dark Jedi about halfway down the hall beyond. I’d say that’s the way we must go, wouldn’t you, my young Padawan?”
“Yes, Master,” the Togruta teen said in reply.
“What do you suggest we do to get around them?”
“You want my opinion, Master? But, this is an important mission, and I’m only a Padawan.”
“You are a Jedi. A young one, yes, but the Order will be in your hands one day when you become a Knight.”
“Yes, Master. I would suggest we either try to go through the vents or maybe find an alternative path and circle around.”
“Both good suggestions. I think the alternative path would be the better option.”
“I agree, Master.”
With a nod, Master Vyt peered around the corner again and watched the Dark Jedi. With his eyes locked on them, watching their movements, he motioned Bahkto to move out. The young Torgruta Jedi moved from their hiding spot quickly and quietly and made his way down the hall in the opposite direction as the Dark Jedi. The Padawan moved into the shadows and crept along the hall, keeping his eyes on the Dark Jedi to watch for them turning in his direction or move his way. Once he had made it around the corner at the end of the hall, the Kel Dor Jedi moved out from the hiding spot himself and into the shadows. He crept along the wall away from the Dark Jedi, keeping his eyes peeled.
As he neared where his Padawan was hidden, the Dark Jedi apparently finished their conversation, and one of them turned and began walking in his direction. Vyt focused the Force, keeping his concealment intact and leapt up from the floor and clung to the grate of the vent above him with his fingers and held his feet up, curling up in a slight ball. The sharp edges of the vent dug into his fingers, making the whole ordeal that much worse. The singular Dark Jedi made his way down the hall and under Vyt as he hung there like a light fixture. The Dark Jedi moved toward the corner where his Padawan was hidden. Hopefully the young Jedi had moved away from the corner, but Vyt couldn’t risk that; as the Dark Jedi moved out from under him, the Kel Dor dropped down to the ground silently and moved up behind the masked Dark Jedi.
The Jedi Master jabbed the Dark Jedi at the base of their neck; they went limp and started to fall to the floor. Vyt grabbed the Dark Jedi, slung them over his shoulder and moved around the corner; Bahkto was nowhere to be found. Vyt looked around for the young Jedi, and then he dropped from the ceiling with a smirk. Vyt tucked the unconscious Dark Jedi away in a dark corner, using the Force to make them sleep for a much longer time than they would have. He couldn’t afford them waking up and alerting someone to there being intruders in the prison. Vyt moved down the hall with his Padawan, searching for an alternate route around the populated hall they had left behind.
Drestin Fraen
The Echani Jedi Padawan kneeled in the middle of his cell with his legs tucked up under him and his hands splayed out on each knee. His Padawan braid fell down to brush his cheek, but he ignored it as he continued his meditation; meditating in this place was difficult for him with all the dark energy present. He tried his best to ignore the dark energy and to reach the pure Force beyond the dark walls of the prison, but it was impossible. With a heavy sigh the youth stood to his feet and took to pacing about the cell. As he made his way by the door of fourth time, Drestin noticed an armoured and masked sentry walk up to his cell and lean against the wall outside his door.
The Echani stopped in the middle of his pacing to stare at the sentry. From what he heard from other Jedi, the Sith Lords and their apprentices were the only ones who wore masks. Which was his new guard, though? Master or Apprentice? Drestin made his way over to his uncomfortable bunk and plopped down on it. With the arrival of his guard, there came even more dark energy; it assaulted his mind from all sides, but he would not be swayed. He was a Jedi, and would remain such… hopefully. He brought himself out of his stupor with a shake of his head and stood back up. Drestin walked up to the door, examining the sentry as much as possible through the ray shielding.
“Which are you, Sith? Master or Apprentice?”
Eiradu, Drau Flynn
The first line of the Republic troopers finally got near enough to open fire with their laser weapons. Laser bolts flew over the heads of the pinned down Howlrunners behind their speeder bikes; the sniper made sure of that. Things definitely looked bleak for the bike squad, but suddenly the sniper fire stopped. Flynn nodded to the medic and peered over his own bike; nothing happened. The next moment, the Krogan knew why; Rebel soldiers came charging out of the treeline on both sides and from behind the Republic assault. Rockets flew from the midst of the charging Rebels, finding their mark in the legs of the two Powersuits; both went down in a heap of flaming and twisted pile of metal and flesh.
With a roar, Flynn suddenly jumped to his feet and began firing into the Republic lines, commanding his squad to open fire, but remain in the center of the circle they had made with their speeder bikes. Flynn wanted to stay and defend the dead from being maimed or destroyed; they deserved funerals. Flynn continued firing into the Republic forces, noticing that the reinforcements were focusing on taking out the Biotic troopers first; smart. When Flynn noticed a cluster of Republic troopers, he pulled a thermal detonator from his belt and threw it into their midst; some of them managed to get clear, but the others were blown apart or maimed and sent flying across the battlefield.
More and more heat rounds flew from his assault rifle as he unleashed burst after burst into the fray, taking down any Republic troopers he could. When they would return fire in his direction, Flynn would duck back behind his speeder to avoid behind shot again. When he popped up the next time to return fire of his own, he found a Republic trooper charging at him, having broke away from the chaos of the battlefield. Flyn collapsed his assault rifle and stuck to his back before leaping over his speeder and charging at the brave trooper. As the two neared one another, Fynn noticed it was one of the Biotics. Of course, this made no difference to him; he only roared and charged harder and faster than before.
The Biotic trooper stopped in his tracks and extended his arm at Flynn. The trooper’s hand and arm began to glow a dark blue color, and then he sent out a shockwave of Biotic force. Flynn was struck with the shockwave and was sent into the air and backwards; the Krogan landed on his back, winded. With tremendous effort, he heaved himself back to his feet only to see the trooper a few feet away. The clone closed the gap with a leaping punch aimed at the Krogan’s head. Flynn caught the Biotic’s fist and swung him around and sent him flying across the ground. The clone recovered faster than Flynn did and was upon him again, punching and kicking in quick succession. Flynn took the brunt of the attack, waiting for an opening, and when he saw one he shoulder slammed the trooper in the chest, sending him to the ground again.
This time, Flynn followed up with a foot stomp aimed at the troopers chest, who rolled out of the way and to his feet. The trooper drew a vibroknife from his boot and directed a stab at the Krogan. Flynn dodged out of the way, only to be hit by another shockwave from the Biotic trooper. The trooper charged and leapt on Flynn, aiming another stab at him this time toward the Krogan’s neck. Flynn grabbed the Biotic’s arm and held him off with some effort, which was saying a lot, considering he was a Krogan. The Biotic troopers were not only had their Biotic abilities enhanced, but their strength and speed as well. With some effort, Flynn was able to throw the trooper off of him and stand to his feet, drawing his own knife.
The clone used his Biotic abilities to charge with much greater force than before, illuminated in the blue aura of his Biotics. Flynn attempted to block the stab this time, but was unsuccessful; the blade of the knife bit through his armor and lodged itself in his left thigh. Screaming in both pain and rage, Flynn picked the Biotic up by the shoulders and threw him like a ragdoll across the ground. He pulled the knife from his leg with another drawn out scream that was barely comprehensible as the words, “I AM … KROGAAAAN!”
Throwing the clone’s knife away, Flynn charged forward and slammed into the bastard, wrapping his arms around him in a grapple and lifting him from the ground before slamming his head into the trooper’s helmet; the visor shattered and fell to the ground in pieces. The look of shock on the clone’s face was priceless as the enraged Krogan dropped him and aimed a stab at the man’s chest. The clone caught the Krogan’s hand and attempted to hold it off, and under normal circumstances he might have been able to, but Flynn was seeing red and pushed the knife down with a great deal of force into the clone’s chest, ripping through his armor and flesh alike. Blood sprayed from the wound, leaving a dotted trail on the Krogan’s armour. Flynn pulled the knife free and stood straight, allowing another battlecry to pierce the other sounds of battle all around him.
“I AM KROGAN!”
Factory Under Attack from Republic Forces
Troopers continued to charge at the factory to run the Rebels out of it, but the factory not only gave them the high ground but tremendous cover as well; not to mention, the Rebels had snipers positioned in the upper windows to pick off the Republic’s forces who weren’t taken out by the turret fire or the single, out of date Powersuit the rebels possessed. The thing was smaller and more round than the newer model of Powersuits; it also had no shielding, which is why the cockpit was made to surround the operator with the armour of the thing. It was equipped with a much slower heat round gatling gun and weaker missiles with a shorter range without an automatic reloading system. Despite all of this, the older Powersuit swept through the enemy line and eliminated the charging Republic forces.
A commander went down with his head reduced to red mush and stains on his unit. The medic went to check if he were alive and paid the price for his mistake as three heat rounds sank into his legs, obliterating muscles and bone alike. He fell to the ground, luckily, behind some brush and rocks. Those who tried to get to his position and help him paid with their lives, yet more and more still attempted to help him. One was almost to him when his head exploded into red mist from sniper rifle. As more turned in his direction, the wounded medic called out.
“No! Continue on! Leave me! I’m just bait! Go!”
With solemn nods and expressions, the troopers left him behind and continued the charge. Rockets flew from a lower window of the factory and exploded in the midst of the Republic forces, sending men and body parts flying in various directions. Those unlucky enough to die from the rocket rolled on the ground in agony, bleeding out from the loss of limbs and suffering from burns. Now was their turn; three Republic troopers made their way through the carnage and took up separate positions with rocket launchers steadied on their shoulders. One was taken out with a sniper shot to his chest, another was taken out by a thermal detonator, but the last one was able to fire his rocket before going down with a heat round lodged in his skull; the rocket flew from the launcher toward the factory and struck near the roof where the snipers were dispersed about. It exploded on impact, killing two and injuring four more as well as sending rubble down on them and the rebels below on the ground.
Space Over Vondarc, Admiral Xer Loa
The Admiral was catching his breath while sitting back in his command chair when his Rear Admiral came walking up to him with a cup of tea held out. As Xer Loa took the cup, the Geth asked if he was alright.
“I’ll live, Viin. Luckily my people can stand the vacuum of space for a short time. I just need to catch my breath and rest it all. Thank you for the tea,” he said the last part with a slight chuckle.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir,” came a voice from behind him; it belonged to a comm Officer.
“Why’s that, Captain,” the Kelo Dor questioned the Officer with his race’s equivalent of a raised eyebrow.
“High General Vallen has requested you meet him in his quarters aboard The Colossus, sir.”
“Very well. Viin, you have the deck until I return,” the Kel Dor said as he downed the tea in a few large gulps.
As he exited the bridge, Xer Loa could hear bits of Vallen’s speech to the fleet drift to his ears. The veteran Admiral smiled under his breathing mask and began humming as he made his way to the hangar bay and his personal shuttle. Once there, he instructed the pilot to steer them toward the flagship of the Republic fleet. With a nod and a “Yes, sir” the pilot steered the shuttle out of the hangar bay and into the ship graveyard that used to be both Rebellion and Republic ships. Xer Loa examined the floating chunks of metal that, just mere minutes before, were a ship filled with living people with lives of their own and maybe even families waiting for them to be rotated back to their homeworlds. The Kel Dor always thoughts this way after a battle, but he continued serving the Republic, for he knew what war meant. He may not like the business of war and killing people, ending their lives in a blink of an eye, but he knew war and he would continued fighting wars in the name of the Republic until some lucky person out there in the galaxy ended his life, he retired, or he felt like the Republic was no longer worthy of being fought for.
In the midst of his thoughts, his shuttle had landed in the hangar of the massive flagship. With a nod and thanks, Xer Loa exited his shuttle and made his way to the nearby lift, walking with a slight limp because of the mechanical left leg from his knee down. After pressing his thumb to the print scanner on the console within the lift, Xer Loa was whisked away to Vallen’s personal quarters aboard The Colossus. The doors to the lift opened up into a very decorative room filled with weapons, books, and manuscripts, most of which were from Vallen’s homeworld of Kalee. Xer Loa walked in to find Vallen seated at a table tucked to the side with two glasses of wine already placed in the center. Since the two Officers had known each other for so long and had become something akin to close friends during their service together, Xer Loa sat down and took his glass without a formal salute. He swirled the liquid around a few times before speaking.
“You wanted to speak with me, General?”
Once his apprentice and the agent were seated on either side of him, Scelus ordered the driver to take off. The speeder kicked on and was steered out of the speeder bay and onto the path leading from the temple and into the jungle beyond. The speeder shot through the dense foliage in the direction of the temple Scelus and his archaeological team had uncovered. As they neared the dig site, Scelus was practically salivating beneath his mask at the prospect of what they would find in the temple. He locked his gaze on the tip of the temple as it came in sight above the trees and continued staring as the speeder neared the temple and came to stop.
Scelus was the first out of the speeder, his cloak slithering along behind him as he made his way up the old and partially crumbling stone steps of the temple without regard to the two who had accompanied him here. He was far too excited to wait on them to enter the temple now that his team had tunneled into the heart of it. The Dark Jedi guarding the entrance bowed to him as they moved to either side and let him pass. He quickened his pace once he entered the vine-covered hall, running his hand along the wall to his left; his high-reaching black boots made clicking noises on the stone floor beneath him, echoing and bouncing off of the walls of the ancient and abandoned temple.
Scelus allowed the dark energy of the place to flow through him and strengthen him. As he walked along, he used his connection the Force to follow the dark energy down to its source. There were various groups of Dark Jedi going about their work of searching the temple, deciphering glyphs carved on the walls, and tunneling off in other directions so the entirety of the temple could be explored. Scelus had made it a priority to tunnel a straight path to the heart of the temple first, however; luckily, while tunneling the dig team had disabled the traps along the way, although many Dark Jedi were lost to some of the traps. Scelus didn’t care how many they had lost to get to the center of the temple, though. It was well worth it in his opinion.
As he neared the entrance to the tomb, Scelus dropped his hand to his hand, resting it on the hilt of his lightsaber. On his orders, no one had stepped foot in the tomb; he was to be the first to enter, which meant the traps were still very much active within. As he made his first step into the room, a pressure plate down under his weight. Spikes shot up from all around him, but with the Force Scelus was able to anticipate this and jump high up and over the spikes, landing just outside of the death cage. He looked back up the tunnel, awaiting the agent sent to serve him. He would have him find and disable any traps and fight any threats present in the room. He had spent years studying the Rakata people, and if he knew them as well as he thought there would be other threats in the tomb beside the traps.
Csilla, Krios Gerulin
“Yes, I agree with Roze. Master Vyt, you and your Padawan can go in one direction and search for Master Greon’s Padawan while Roze and I look for Master Greon himself.”
The Kel Dor nodded to the two Knights and turned to lead his Padawan down the hall away from them. Krios saw that the young Trogruta looked paler now that they had infiltrated the prison and were getting ready to split up and search for the captured Jedi. Krios placed a hand on the young Padawan, stopping him from following his Master, who stopped once he noticed the Togruta wasn’t following him.
“Don’t be afraid. Trust in your abilities and those of your Master. You have the Force on your side,” Krios said as he patted the Padawan on the shoulder and allowed him to follow his Master. With a nod to the Kel Dor, Krios turned back to Roze.
He led the way down the dark hall, using the Force to conceal his and Roze’s presence; it took a lot of concentration, but he was able to do it as long as he didn’t have to fight. If he did, then the concealment would break, and they would most likely be discovered. They couldn’t afford that, because if they were, finding the Jedi would be nearly impossible. Krios stopped a corner and peaked around it to scan the hall beyond. Seeing that it was clear, Krios gave the all-clear signal to Roze and then came round the corner and continued down the hall.
The two Jedi Knights followed the circular pattern of the prison in their attempt to find the Jedi Master. As they made their way down another hall, the sound of footsteps suddenly met their ears. Krios forze and began peering around for some kind of doorway, but there was none to be found in the hall. He frantically looked around, and then his eyes locked on a vent overhead. He tugged at her arm and directed her gaze to the vent; he was unable to use the Force to pull the grate from the vent without lowering their concealment.
Jedi Master Vyt and Padawan Bahkto
The Kel Dor Jedi Master crept along the hallway, using the Force to conceal his presence, followed suit by his Padawan, who was using the Force to do the same. The Trogruta was young, barely seventeen years of age; he was scared, not as much now since Krios’s words of wisdom. Vyt thought back on what the Drell had said to his Padawan; the Drell was wise for his age and would make a good Master some day. Zetram must be very proud of the Jedi Shadow he once took as a Padawan. Vyt held the same pride for his student, even though he hadn’t completed his training yet. Vyt stopped at a corner, throwing up his hand to signal for Bahkto to do the same. The older of the pair peered around the corner and down the hall; there were several Dark Jedi about halfway down the hall standing and talking to one another.
“There are three Dark Jedi about halfway down the hall beyond. I’d say that’s the way we must go, wouldn’t you, my young Padawan?”
“Yes, Master,” the Togruta teen said in reply.
“What do you suggest we do to get around them?”
“You want my opinion, Master? But, this is an important mission, and I’m only a Padawan.”
“You are a Jedi. A young one, yes, but the Order will be in your hands one day when you become a Knight.”
“Yes, Master. I would suggest we either try to go through the vents or maybe find an alternative path and circle around.”
“Both good suggestions. I think the alternative path would be the better option.”
“I agree, Master.”
With a nod, Master Vyt peered around the corner again and watched the Dark Jedi. With his eyes locked on them, watching their movements, he motioned Bahkto to move out. The young Torgruta Jedi moved from their hiding spot quickly and quietly and made his way down the hall in the opposite direction as the Dark Jedi. The Padawan moved into the shadows and crept along the hall, keeping his eyes on the Dark Jedi to watch for them turning in his direction or move his way. Once he had made it around the corner at the end of the hall, the Kel Dor Jedi moved out from the hiding spot himself and into the shadows. He crept along the wall away from the Dark Jedi, keeping his eyes peeled.
As he neared where his Padawan was hidden, the Dark Jedi apparently finished their conversation, and one of them turned and began walking in his direction. Vyt focused the Force, keeping his concealment intact and leapt up from the floor and clung to the grate of the vent above him with his fingers and held his feet up, curling up in a slight ball. The sharp edges of the vent dug into his fingers, making the whole ordeal that much worse. The singular Dark Jedi made his way down the hall and under Vyt as he hung there like a light fixture. The Dark Jedi moved toward the corner where his Padawan was hidden. Hopefully the young Jedi had moved away from the corner, but Vyt couldn’t risk that; as the Dark Jedi moved out from under him, the Kel Dor dropped down to the ground silently and moved up behind the masked Dark Jedi.
The Jedi Master jabbed the Dark Jedi at the base of their neck; they went limp and started to fall to the floor. Vyt grabbed the Dark Jedi, slung them over his shoulder and moved around the corner; Bahkto was nowhere to be found. Vyt looked around for the young Jedi, and then he dropped from the ceiling with a smirk. Vyt tucked the unconscious Dark Jedi away in a dark corner, using the Force to make them sleep for a much longer time than they would have. He couldn’t afford them waking up and alerting someone to there being intruders in the prison. Vyt moved down the hall with his Padawan, searching for an alternate route around the populated hall they had left behind.
Drestin Fraen
The Echani Jedi Padawan kneeled in the middle of his cell with his legs tucked up under him and his hands splayed out on each knee. His Padawan braid fell down to brush his cheek, but he ignored it as he continued his meditation; meditating in this place was difficult for him with all the dark energy present. He tried his best to ignore the dark energy and to reach the pure Force beyond the dark walls of the prison, but it was impossible. With a heavy sigh the youth stood to his feet and took to pacing about the cell. As he made his way by the door of fourth time, Drestin noticed an armoured and masked sentry walk up to his cell and lean against the wall outside his door.
The Echani stopped in the middle of his pacing to stare at the sentry. From what he heard from other Jedi, the Sith Lords and their apprentices were the only ones who wore masks. Which was his new guard, though? Master or Apprentice? Drestin made his way over to his uncomfortable bunk and plopped down on it. With the arrival of his guard, there came even more dark energy; it assaulted his mind from all sides, but he would not be swayed. He was a Jedi, and would remain such… hopefully. He brought himself out of his stupor with a shake of his head and stood back up. Drestin walked up to the door, examining the sentry as much as possible through the ray shielding.
“Which are you, Sith? Master or Apprentice?”
Eiradu, Drau Flynn
The first line of the Republic troopers finally got near enough to open fire with their laser weapons. Laser bolts flew over the heads of the pinned down Howlrunners behind their speeder bikes; the sniper made sure of that. Things definitely looked bleak for the bike squad, but suddenly the sniper fire stopped. Flynn nodded to the medic and peered over his own bike; nothing happened. The next moment, the Krogan knew why; Rebel soldiers came charging out of the treeline on both sides and from behind the Republic assault. Rockets flew from the midst of the charging Rebels, finding their mark in the legs of the two Powersuits; both went down in a heap of flaming and twisted pile of metal and flesh.
With a roar, Flynn suddenly jumped to his feet and began firing into the Republic lines, commanding his squad to open fire, but remain in the center of the circle they had made with their speeder bikes. Flynn wanted to stay and defend the dead from being maimed or destroyed; they deserved funerals. Flynn continued firing into the Republic forces, noticing that the reinforcements were focusing on taking out the Biotic troopers first; smart. When Flynn noticed a cluster of Republic troopers, he pulled a thermal detonator from his belt and threw it into their midst; some of them managed to get clear, but the others were blown apart or maimed and sent flying across the battlefield.
More and more heat rounds flew from his assault rifle as he unleashed burst after burst into the fray, taking down any Republic troopers he could. When they would return fire in his direction, Flynn would duck back behind his speeder to avoid behind shot again. When he popped up the next time to return fire of his own, he found a Republic trooper charging at him, having broke away from the chaos of the battlefield. Flyn collapsed his assault rifle and stuck to his back before leaping over his speeder and charging at the brave trooper. As the two neared one another, Fynn noticed it was one of the Biotics. Of course, this made no difference to him; he only roared and charged harder and faster than before.
The Biotic trooper stopped in his tracks and extended his arm at Flynn. The trooper’s hand and arm began to glow a dark blue color, and then he sent out a shockwave of Biotic force. Flynn was struck with the shockwave and was sent into the air and backwards; the Krogan landed on his back, winded. With tremendous effort, he heaved himself back to his feet only to see the trooper a few feet away. The clone closed the gap with a leaping punch aimed at the Krogan’s head. Flynn caught the Biotic’s fist and swung him around and sent him flying across the ground. The clone recovered faster than Flynn did and was upon him again, punching and kicking in quick succession. Flynn took the brunt of the attack, waiting for an opening, and when he saw one he shoulder slammed the trooper in the chest, sending him to the ground again.
This time, Flynn followed up with a foot stomp aimed at the troopers chest, who rolled out of the way and to his feet. The trooper drew a vibroknife from his boot and directed a stab at the Krogan. Flynn dodged out of the way, only to be hit by another shockwave from the Biotic trooper. The trooper charged and leapt on Flynn, aiming another stab at him this time toward the Krogan’s neck. Flynn grabbed the Biotic’s arm and held him off with some effort, which was saying a lot, considering he was a Krogan. The Biotic troopers were not only had their Biotic abilities enhanced, but their strength and speed as well. With some effort, Flynn was able to throw the trooper off of him and stand to his feet, drawing his own knife.
The clone used his Biotic abilities to charge with much greater force than before, illuminated in the blue aura of his Biotics. Flynn attempted to block the stab this time, but was unsuccessful; the blade of the knife bit through his armor and lodged itself in his left thigh. Screaming in both pain and rage, Flynn picked the Biotic up by the shoulders and threw him like a ragdoll across the ground. He pulled the knife from his leg with another drawn out scream that was barely comprehensible as the words, “I AM … KROGAAAAN!”
Throwing the clone’s knife away, Flynn charged forward and slammed into the bastard, wrapping his arms around him in a grapple and lifting him from the ground before slamming his head into the trooper’s helmet; the visor shattered and fell to the ground in pieces. The look of shock on the clone’s face was priceless as the enraged Krogan dropped him and aimed a stab at the man’s chest. The clone caught the Krogan’s hand and attempted to hold it off, and under normal circumstances he might have been able to, but Flynn was seeing red and pushed the knife down with a great deal of force into the clone’s chest, ripping through his armor and flesh alike. Blood sprayed from the wound, leaving a dotted trail on the Krogan’s armour. Flynn pulled the knife free and stood straight, allowing another battlecry to pierce the other sounds of battle all around him.
“I AM KROGAN!”
Factory Under Attack from Republic Forces
Troopers continued to charge at the factory to run the Rebels out of it, but the factory not only gave them the high ground but tremendous cover as well; not to mention, the Rebels had snipers positioned in the upper windows to pick off the Republic’s forces who weren’t taken out by the turret fire or the single, out of date Powersuit the rebels possessed. The thing was smaller and more round than the newer model of Powersuits; it also had no shielding, which is why the cockpit was made to surround the operator with the armour of the thing. It was equipped with a much slower heat round gatling gun and weaker missiles with a shorter range without an automatic reloading system. Despite all of this, the older Powersuit swept through the enemy line and eliminated the charging Republic forces.
A commander went down with his head reduced to red mush and stains on his unit. The medic went to check if he were alive and paid the price for his mistake as three heat rounds sank into his legs, obliterating muscles and bone alike. He fell to the ground, luckily, behind some brush and rocks. Those who tried to get to his position and help him paid with their lives, yet more and more still attempted to help him. One was almost to him when his head exploded into red mist from sniper rifle. As more turned in his direction, the wounded medic called out.
“No! Continue on! Leave me! I’m just bait! Go!”
With solemn nods and expressions, the troopers left him behind and continued the charge. Rockets flew from a lower window of the factory and exploded in the midst of the Republic forces, sending men and body parts flying in various directions. Those unlucky enough to die from the rocket rolled on the ground in agony, bleeding out from the loss of limbs and suffering from burns. Now was their turn; three Republic troopers made their way through the carnage and took up separate positions with rocket launchers steadied on their shoulders. One was taken out with a sniper shot to his chest, another was taken out by a thermal detonator, but the last one was able to fire his rocket before going down with a heat round lodged in his skull; the rocket flew from the launcher toward the factory and struck near the roof where the snipers were dispersed about. It exploded on impact, killing two and injuring four more as well as sending rubble down on them and the rebels below on the ground.
Space Over Vondarc, Admiral Xer Loa
The Admiral was catching his breath while sitting back in his command chair when his Rear Admiral came walking up to him with a cup of tea held out. As Xer Loa took the cup, the Geth asked if he was alright.
“I’ll live, Viin. Luckily my people can stand the vacuum of space for a short time. I just need to catch my breath and rest it all. Thank you for the tea,” he said the last part with a slight chuckle.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir,” came a voice from behind him; it belonged to a comm Officer.
“Why’s that, Captain,” the Kelo Dor questioned the Officer with his race’s equivalent of a raised eyebrow.
“High General Vallen has requested you meet him in his quarters aboard The Colossus, sir.”
“Very well. Viin, you have the deck until I return,” the Kel Dor said as he downed the tea in a few large gulps.
As he exited the bridge, Xer Loa could hear bits of Vallen’s speech to the fleet drift to his ears. The veteran Admiral smiled under his breathing mask and began humming as he made his way to the hangar bay and his personal shuttle. Once there, he instructed the pilot to steer them toward the flagship of the Republic fleet. With a nod and a “Yes, sir” the pilot steered the shuttle out of the hangar bay and into the ship graveyard that used to be both Rebellion and Republic ships. Xer Loa examined the floating chunks of metal that, just mere minutes before, were a ship filled with living people with lives of their own and maybe even families waiting for them to be rotated back to their homeworlds. The Kel Dor always thoughts this way after a battle, but he continued serving the Republic, for he knew what war meant. He may not like the business of war and killing people, ending their lives in a blink of an eye, but he knew war and he would continued fighting wars in the name of the Republic until some lucky person out there in the galaxy ended his life, he retired, or he felt like the Republic was no longer worthy of being fought for.
In the midst of his thoughts, his shuttle had landed in the hangar of the massive flagship. With a nod and thanks, Xer Loa exited his shuttle and made his way to the nearby lift, walking with a slight limp because of the mechanical left leg from his knee down. After pressing his thumb to the print scanner on the console within the lift, Xer Loa was whisked away to Vallen’s personal quarters aboard The Colossus. The doors to the lift opened up into a very decorative room filled with weapons, books, and manuscripts, most of which were from Vallen’s homeworld of Kalee. Xer Loa walked in to find Vallen seated at a table tucked to the side with two glasses of wine already placed in the center. Since the two Officers had known each other for so long and had become something akin to close friends during their service together, Xer Loa sat down and took his glass without a formal salute. He swirled the liquid around a few times before speaking.
“You wanted to speak with me, General?”
