Emzie had been working for Jedi for a long time. They had passed through several hands. This was not the first droid they had seen wielding a lightsaber, but it never spelled good things. "This appears to be an IG-110." Emzie said almost automatically. They did not go into detail.

Emzie did not have gernades. If they could breathe they'd sigh. No wonder this mission was going sideways. The IG-110 was designed to destroy Jedi. This mission had been compromised. The Jedi had been expected. So now they needed to do something unexpected. They turned to the bodies nearby and searched quickly, not finding anything of use in the first body. Time ticked by and Emzie could measure it by the seconds. The second was just as useless.

Very well. The bodies would not supply anything useful. They would have to do something else. They dropped to their knee and instead took shots at the lightsaber-wielding droid. Their shots were good and clear, but the other was faster.

Raynor knew it was probably a bad idea to argue/quip in the middle of a fight, as he blocked blow after blow of the lightsaber strikes, scarlet clashing against brilliant blue. But he couldn't resist. "This can't be a double-one-oh - it's... it's like it's alive, Emzie!" Raynor shouted. He had been using the Perseverance Lightsaber Form, as it was ideal for deflecting blaster shots (i.e., the fire from the Destroyer Droids), but it was especially weak against a single opponent. Raynor was losing ground, being forced closer and closer to the Destroyer Droids. He switched his stance, switching his form into the Aggression Form - ideal for a single opponent, but horrible when it came to blaster fire.

The sound of lightsaber hitting lightsaber filled the air, a continuous symphony of CRACKS from energy colliding with energy. The two Destroyer Droids kept their focus on Emzie, sending near endless volleys of blaster-fire at the droid, until suddenly the fire stopped. It was a stroke of luck, but the droids guns seemed to have jammed, at least for the moment.

Emzie was confused now. The droid had no life sign how could it be alive. "There are no life signs." Emzie reassured. They were not certain what Raynor was sensing. Maybe the situation had gotten to the young man. Now was not the time to dwell on that though. Emzie set about trying to take care of the thankfully currently broken destroyers.

"I do not have the means to take out these droids." They announced. A tinge of annoyance in their voice. "I can only continue to distract them." It was fortunate that the droids didn't have the best aim and Emzie had been programmed for evasive maniviours, and their chassis was surprisingly resilient. Something Avar Kriss had specifically requested when Emzie had been designed.

There was something Emzie thought of. A weakness near the point of origin for the shield. However, again they lacked the tools to deal with it. Checking a third body gave nothing that could help and Emzie wondered if the bodies had already been stripped but left behind. They kept that thought to themselves, or they would have if the follow-up thought did not occur to them. "I fear we were anticipated." Emzie did not like that. This mission was too critical. They raised their blaster at the strange droid and shot, missing widely. There wasn't time for failure. It was already too late.

"It's definitely alive, you must have a screw loose or something!" Raynor shouted back, perhaps a bit more angrily than he should have. He knew what the Force was telling him - whatever thing he was fighting, it wasn't a machine - not in the way that droids like Emzie were or 110 units were. It wasn't an ordinary form of sentient life either, but it was alive nonetheless, and Raynor couldn't explain it.

He continued to fight, blade hitting blade. He pressed forward, attempting to back the creature into a corner - he swung, going for decapitating blows, but there was no gap in its defenses. Raynor's frustration was mounting, especially with Emzie explaining that they weren't capable of taking out the Destroyers (Raynor knew it wasn't reasonable to expect them to do that, but still, he would've liked some help, rather than everything falling on him). But his frustration worked to enhance his power, allowing Raynor to thrust his lightsaber blade forward, skewering the odd creature and sending it limp - just a brief opening in their defenses had allowed his victory.

Raynor was panting, dripping with sweat. He stabbed his lightsaber into one of the shields of the Destroyer's, breaking the shield with just one blow in a stroke of luck. "There, now you can handle one."

Emzie was pleased that Raynor defeated the strange droid. They were uncertain of what to think about his instance that the droid was alive. This would be something they would have to discuss when not under the time crunch of their current mission. Checking their internal chronometer. The battle above the planet was waging. They could still hope that their success here would help the battle above. But it might have been too late already.

"I still only have a blaster. An ineffective weapon against destroyer droids." Emzi said mater of factly to Raynor. They still fired at the droid trying to prove their point. But in the moment of shooting at it, the droid's shield seemed to falter and the blast hit it directly destroying it. Emzie looked at the droid. "It seems I have succeeded in destroying the destroyer droid." Their voice carried a hint of amusement.

"We should continue moving immediately. Our mission is already behind." Emzie started down the hallway following the line on their map. Whatever luck that had allowed Emzie to kill the droid did not hold for them as they came to a t-section of the hallway where the guard station was located. There was luck in the type of guards they found though. There were seven B1-Series battle droids. A lot, maybe too many, but a weaker type than the destroyer droids.

"Oi, Captain I Only Have A Blaster, catch," Raynor called out. He picked up the red lightsaber of the strange robotic creature, and tossed the unlit blade to Emzie. He imagined that the droid likely had programming in how to handle a sword, given that it seemed to be proficient enough with a blaster - and if not, well, Raynor just didn't want to hear more complaining about a poor choice in weapon. Besides, holding onto the strange being's lightsaber was probably for the best - it might contain clues as to what it was they had just faced. One of the Jedi Masters might recognize the blade's craftsmanship.

"At least these clankers don't have shields," Raynor commented, as they came upon a group of seven basic battle droids at the guard station. Raynor held out his hand, and one of the droids suddenly flew through the glass of the guard station, shattering it and creating a gigantic opening. Raynor then smirked slightly, throwing the flying droid to the side, where it hit the ground.

"Oww!" the droid complained, still functioning.

"I am not a captain." Emzie said seriously. They didn't have a rank since they were a droid. As they were distracted with their response, they did not catch. Instead, the lightsaber flew past them and landed a few meters away. Emzie picked it up and stored it. "I also do not have the programing to use a lightsaber." There was no need to mention Emzie wasn't force-sensitive; that was obvious by the simple fact that they were a droid. Or maybe now it wasn't as obvious of a fact.

Emzie removed their blaster. The point Raynor had made was true. These droids did not have shields. So Emzie's blaster would work against them. They fired one shot at a droid, hitting it, and while it survived that first blast, the next two went a little wide, missing the droid Emzie had been aiming at. Emzie did not seem pleased. If they were capable of frowning, they would be.

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"You also don't seem to have much of a sense of humor," Raynor noted. Droids often were a little stiff, especially ones that were frequently wiped, as they didn't have as much time to develop personality quirks. But Raynor had a feeling that this was likely as quirky as Emzie would ever get - that this was the droid's natural and true personality. It could be fun to mess with Emzie for a while, but eventually, it'd grow old.

He mentally shook himself. Focus. Clear your mind. Raynor's lightsaber arced through the air, slicing one of the droids in half. Another droid fired off a shot at the same time though, a cosmic stroke of misfortune, and the blaster fire hit Raynor in the right arm. He winced, only barely healed from the injuries that had landed him in the bacta tank in the first place. "Dammit," Raynor cursed.

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MZ-33, Protocol Droid
29 pts (Light-Side)

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Emzie thought they were very funny, actually. It wasn't their fault the Jedi didn't understand their sense of humor. However, now was not the time to try to get into a comedic battle. There were droids in the way of their goal. Something Emzie was getting rather desperate to get to. Therefore, they chose not to continue the conversation but instead focus on the fight.

Their first shot missed by a mile. Their second shot grazed their target. But the third destroyed the droid. That was two down out of seven. There were still five more that needed to be taken out for them to be able to move on. Those five droids fired off their own shots. Most went wide. But two shots hit home. One barely grazing Raynor, singeing off some hair, the other hitting Emzie doing damage to their chassis. But not penetrating through their specialized plate. If a second blast hit the same spot before it cooled, Emzie would be at risk of significant damage.

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Raynor didn't like how many near misses he was experiencing - he could feel the heat of the blaster fire as it singed off some of his hair. He was a Jedi - he was supposed to be better at this, droids ought to be child's play. Shame mixed into the frustration he had already been feeling, and he reached out with the Force, shoving a hand forward as he attempted to stun the droid assaulting him. Ideally, sparks would've flown from his hands and hit the droid, disabling it. But the Force eluded him. The droid opened fire, and would've hit Raynor dead on, had he not redirected the blow with his lightsaber. The returned blast destroyed the droid on impact.

There were four more droids left and each breath was beginning to feel a little more agonizing than the last. Raynor tried not to focus on the pain, attempting to leave his mind clear, to be in harmony with the universe - and he summoned the Force, calling upon it as he used it to push all of the droids back. Three of them crumpled, their frames sparking. One was left and fired off a shot, missing both Raynor and Emzie.

"We're - wasting - time," Raynor said through gritted teeth.

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MZ-33, Protocol Droid
29 pts (Light-Side)

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Emzie agreed with Raynor. They were wasting time. However, they couldn't do much without taking out the droids blocking their way first. With only one left, though, things were looking up. They shot at the droid, each shot going wild. Only one shot had gotten hit the droid, but it didn't do any damage.

Thankfully, the return shot from the droid was just as useless. It grazed Emzie but did no damage. "I am not designed for prolonged combat." This was frustrating.

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Raynor lunged forward somewhat recklessly with his blade, hoping to cleanly slice through the droid and end this conflict. His body felt like every nerve ending was on fire, screaming at him to take a beat, to catch his breath, to rest. But there wasn't time. And his body wasn't his own. He was a Jedi, he served the Republic, and he would die serving the Republic if that was what it took. His wild swing was a wild miss, and it left him open and vulnerable, as the droid shot him in the side.

Raynor clutched his side, wheezing. The droid fired off another shot and it missed him, going wide. It might've been stupid, and it was a technique that Raynor had not even tried to study properly, but he threw his blade at the droid. The Force must've been with him in that moment though, as the blade skewered the droid and it crumpled to the ground, useless. Raynor staggered to the side, leaning against the hallway, the hand clutching the blaster wound damp with blood.

"You - lead," he choked out, holding out a shaking hand to recall his lightsaber to him. "We ride or die for the Republic."

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MZ-33, Protocol Droid
29 pts (Light-Side)

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Emzie started to lead. They followed the map that they had of the factory. A small light indicated to them where they needed to go -the power source of the factory.

The rest of the way was clear. They had met quite a bit of resistance, but Emzie still felt it might not be appropriate. There was of course the strange droid with the lightsaber. The lightsaber that Emzie now carried. They had never carried one for more than a moment in all of their 'life'.

Emzie stopped in front of a door painted red with several numbers painted in black.

"Through this door will be the power source of the factory. The mission is to destroy that. The space battle currently happening above this planet would end faster without the swarm of droids that were being made and being shipped right out into the fight.

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Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

It was taking all of Raynor's focus to not just focus on the bloody wound in his side. He had to use the Force, reach out with his senses, determine if the way ahead was clear. The battle raging above the planet's surface depended on them. It didn't matter if they lived or died, all that mattered was if they could destroy the power core of this factory. In the shape he was in, Raynor didn't know if he'd be able to escape the factory in time if he destroyed the core, resulting in a violent explosion. "Do you know how to disable the core, Emzie?" Raynor asked, even though each word physically hurt to form.

He reached ahead with his senses, trying to determine if he detected any lifeforms up ahead. He didn't feel any. There could be droids though. That was one of the pesky things about the clankers - they were slippery when it came to the Force. He could throw them around with the Force all day, but feeling their souls, their presence? It was almost impossible for him. He knew other Jedi were better at it, but he wasn't. Especially not now.

He took another breath, bracing himself, before flinging the door open with the Force. His muscles were tensed, ready for a fight, and...

The room was empty of droids.

"Emzie, I don't like this..." he muttered warily. "It should be guarded, right?"

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MZ-33, Protocol Droid
29 pts (Light-Side)

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Emzie looked around the room. They were tempted to fire a shot and see if it would bring out potential enemies. This was called 'scarring out the rats'. They did not though. Instead, they turned to face Raynor.

"You are correct. This place should be guarded. There is a chance all the guards left and were caught by the original mission. We should continue. Can you place the charges? Or give me instructions on how to do it myself." The question seemed to be checking on Raynor's health, without asking directly. It was clear Emzie was distressed about Raynor's health but was too focused on the mission.

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"Right, the charges," Raynor muttered. He should have known that. He hated that he hadn't known that. The wear and tear on his body and mind was beginning to show. He turned, seeing that Emzie had the charges on them. Raynor knew more or less how they functioned - they were standard issue, the sort used on all jobs like these. But a relatively new design for the Grand Army of the Republic - an older droid might not know how they worked. "I can do it," Raynor assured Emzie, reaching out with a shaking hand and grabbing the bag of charges.

He started towards the core, only to stumble and fall to the ground, the bag of charges spilling out around him. Then, the last line of defense of this droid factory showed itself. It came up from the ground, a horrific and noxious gas. Raynor's vision immediately began to blur. He cursed under his breath. Some Jedi were able to hold their breath for extended periods of time, calling on the Force... but he had already called on the Force so much. And the gas started to sting. Emzie would register that this gas was a chemical warfare weapon used by the Separatists to take out organic matter, whereas droids and whatnot would remain unharmed.

"Place... the... charges..." Raynor choked out, before he lost consciousness.

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MZ-33, Protocol Droid
29 pts (Light-Side)

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If Emzie was capable of blinking they would be. Staring at the no unconscious body of Raynor. Quickly they went over priorities in their mind. A decision was made. Emzie dragged Raynor out of the room and back into the hallway, checking for more droids. Emzie knew the basics of first aid. This was not a scrape. But they figured fresh air would be good.

They also had no idea how to set the charges. Raynor could not. They could not. But they had the spare lightsaber that Raynor had removed from the not-a-droid-droid. Fine. Brute force it would be. Emzie returned to the room. Turned on the lightsaber and started dragging it through the machines.

It was not easy. The parts that Emzie figured would be the best to destroy the system was hard to reach. She had no desire to throw the weapon. The weapon was also hard to manipulate. Some of the machines stopped working. But Emzie assessed the situation and knew it would not be enough. And Raynor needed to be returned to the Bacta tank. The mission. Was it already too late?

There had to be something to stop the factory. A self-destruct. But it wouldn't be here, which meant they would have to find it. Get to it. And survive the whole thing. They picked up the bag of spilled charges and placed it back in their storage compartment, where they also placed the now turned-off lightsaber.

Emzie left the room pulling up the map. Picked up Raynor again and started following a new path.

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Raynor remained unconscious, unaware of the looming threats surrounding them. In his dream space, he saw something terrible. It was himself, violently disfigured, clinging to life on a distant moon. His Jedi robes were in tatters, his lightsaber gone, and his eyes... they were filled with pure hatred. Raynor watched like a distant observer, unable to do anything, as this version of himself clung to life through the power of the dark side. It was gathering around him more and more with each passing moment, swirling darkness that threatened to devour him and everything it touched...

"No, no, no..." Raynor murmured in his sleep. "Not...me..."

As Emzie moved along their new path, they would find more signs of the destruction wrought earlier. One hallway was littered with the bodies of Republic soldiers and droids alike, making it almost impossible to navigate. At the end of the hallway, two bodies in particular would stand out. One was the body of Jedi Master Sevrina Mozh - a Bothan woman. And the other was the body of Commander Firtick, CT-4827.

Commander Firtick was still breathing.

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MZ-33, Protocol Droid
29 pts (Light-Side)

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Emzie mourned the loss of another Jedi. They paused at the breathing body of one of the clones. Someone was alive. Emzie gently placed Ryanor on the ground again and moved to Commander Firtick's side. They checked and found a few wounds, and one on his head explaining why he was unconscious. It took a bit of work but Emzie was able to bring the Commander to consciousness.

"Be gentle Commander, but I need your assistance. Commander Raynor has lost consciousness due to some gas. We are unable to complete the original mission. The secondary option of the self-destruct is the best option we have." What had already been almost a suicide attack was now likely to be the only option. But the Republic needed them.

Commander Firtick seemed to be concussed but at least he could stand. They must hurry. Emzie lifted Raynor back up and continued following the path. Expecting Firtick to follow.

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Commander Firtick was not unaccustomed to loss. Nor were they unfamiliar with the idea that they might die on any of these missions. To lay down their life for the good of the Republic was a high honor; but to continue to serve her would be an even greater one. Their head was pounding and they reached up, feeling the site of the wound tenderly. They felt dried blood crunching underneath their fingers - one of the clankers must've gotten them good, but not good enough. They were still in this fight. "Sorry, what's your designation?" Firtick asked the droid.

"My memory's a bit hazy, you'll have to forgive me," Firtick apologized. It must've been the head wound. They could remember bits and flashes - the droids coming upon them seemingly out of nowhere, the General going down... but the specifics, such as how they had gotten there, and what the backup plan needed them to do exactly were escaping them at the moment. "But the self destruct option... We won't all get clear. Take me to the designated point, and then I want you to clear out with Commander Blake. And that's an order, trooper."