Darth_Scelestus Posted October 10, 2012 Share Posted October 10, 2012 Good evening, gentle forum-goers! This is the first installment in a series centered around the Sith Lord Kyravi. As this takes place approximately one month after the end of Act III of the Inquisitor story, there will be spoilers. However, I will try to keep them to a minimum and give some warning. --------------------------- PART ONE Kyravi looked more like a down-on-his-luck spacer than a Sith Lord. No lightsaber hung from his belt, a fact of which he was uncomfortably aware. “What is this?” Kyravi snapped. “I asked for an entire battle group and you bring me six commandos. Six.” Solir looked at his lord in exasperation. “Most men won’t work for free, my lord,” he said. “Consider yourself lucky that some are still loyal – or stupid, if there’s any difference – enough to come at your call.” The Terminus-class destroyer Malevolence’s main hangar was discouragingly empty. Three single-pilot Dagger V-3’s were clustered near the left wall in various states of repair. A few cases of munitions and fuel were stacked near them. In the center of the vast hangar was a large, ungainly lander, shaped like a bullet and covered in too many dings and dents to count. From this craft issued half-a-dozen fit, compact individuals, each carrying multiple packs and strapped with weapons and ammunition. These six wore heavy battle suits, rated for use in the vacuum of space. They walked like veterans, and joked with each other as they unloaded their gear. They called themselves Omega, as in, the last people you’d need to call on to get a job done. They were mercenaries, killers for hire. Associating with them left a bad taste in Kyravi’s mouth. Still, they had proved their usefulness in the past. And it wasn’t like Kyravi had any other options. “Captain Keboth-Don,” Kyravi said. “I must say I’m surprised to see you here. Solir did tell you that I would be unable to pay for your services, yes?” The Zabrak grinned, showing a mouthful of red ceramic teeth. “This is your lucky day, Sith,” he said. Keboth-Don gestured at the other five members of Omega. “It seems our interests and your interests happen to line up perfectly, for the moment. That slimy piece of Hutt excrement, Maronis, decided to cut costs and fire us – literally.” Kyravi noticed the still-healing burn scars along the back of Keboth-Don’s left hand. “I see.” Solir sniffed, his large Mon Calamari eyes narrowing in distaste. “I warned you not to work with him.” “Shut it, fish,” snarled the biggest – and ugliest – of Omega, a Nikto named Grin. He took his name from the pair of scars that stretched laterally from each side of his mouth. Keboth-Don made a soothing gesture in Grin’s direction. “Settle down, soldier. Save it for the enemy.” With one last long, careful look at the surly green Nikto, Kyravi turned away, gesturing for Keboth-Don to follow him. “Solir,” he called, “escort our friends to the lower barracks.” Keboth-Don became more businesslike as they exited the hangar. “I didn’t realize when I brought Omega here just how . . . weak you really are.” Kyravi’s eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at the Zabrak. “Watch yourself, mercenary,” he warned. But Keboth-Don was unimpressed. “You have a single destroyer with barely a skeleton crew. You have three damaged fighters in your hangar and no infantry, not even a squad. You don’t even have a lightsaber.” “I have the Force,” Kyravi growled. “And I have a plan.” --------------------------- I'll admit, this intro is a bit slow, but don't worry, things will liven up tomorrow. Over the next few days, you'll see more of who these guys are and what's happening in the universe. If you didn't know and couldn't tell, this is my first big post on the forums. Please let me know if there is anything I can do formatting-wise to make it easier to read Let me know what you think! I'll have Part Two up sometime tomorrow. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Vesaniae Posted October 10, 2012 Share Posted October 10, 2012 Your formatting is fine, and your prose reads clearly and well. I look forward to reading more of your work! Seeing as you're new, might I also suggest checking out the Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread? It's a good place to get yourself known and introduce your characters to the community. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MilaniGrey Posted October 10, 2012 Share Posted October 10, 2012 .. What Vesa said! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Adwynyth Posted October 10, 2012 Share Posted October 10, 2012 Yup...good start. I wanna see more! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Darth_Scelestus Posted October 10, 2012 Author Share Posted October 10, 2012 Thanks for the feedback I'll head over to the Short Fic thread as soon as I get a chance. As promised, here is Part Two. ---------------PART TWO Aboard the Vulture, in the hangar bay of the Malevolence “Check, Vulture iss go for launch. All ssysstemss green.” “Then hit it.” The Vulture’s engines hummed as it rose from the floor of the Malevolence’s hangar. Kyravi glanced anxiously at the battered interior of the lander, wishing once again that Omega had brought something a little less . . . dented. The Sith Lord and the commandos were crammed together in the small sitting area. The Vutlure looked bigger from the outside, Kyravi reflected, on account of all its armor. The human seated across from Kyravi was Korral, Omega’s sniper. He was a few years younger than the Sith Lord, with dark features and a serious expression. His customized rifle was nestled between his knees, the tip of its barrel almost touching the Vulture’s low ceiling. Korral caught Kyravi’s gaze without flinching. “You’re the first Sith who’s ever told us not to shoot a Jedi, you know that?” “Dead Jedi are rather useless,” Kyravi stated. “Dead Jedi can’t help me.” “All Jedi are pretty useless,” Korral grumbled. “They’re too busy preaching love and harmony to protect their people.” Kyravi blinked. “Do you have a problem with my orders?” “No,” Captain Keboth-Don interjected, glaring at his subordinate. “He doesn’t.” Korral dropped his gaze to his weapon, fiddling with it and adjusting the arrangement of the ammunition belts slung across his chest. Next to him, the Nikto, Grin, leaned forward. “Hey Sith,” Grin called. “I bet I get more kills than you.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Grin,” the Echani woman, Kella, snorted. “Even without a lightsaber, a Sith can lay an army to waste.” “We’ll see about that,” Grin chuckled. “How come you don’t have a lightsaber, anyways?” Sarik asked. He was the youngest member of Omega, another human. His round face and big eyes enhanced his appearance of youth; he looked no older than sixteen. “I have not yet had the time or materials to replace my last blade,” Kyravi said. “It is a delicate business, and not to be rushed.” “Brace yoursselvess back there.” The Trandoshan Skipper’s voice came to them over the intercom. “We’re in range of the sstation’ss cannonss.” At that moment, the Vulture began to shudder. The shields were holding, outdated as they were; unless they took a direct hit, the vessel was unlikely to suffer any real damage. The lights in the crowded rear compartment dimmed as all nonessential power was routed to the defenses. They sat in grim silence for a full two minutes as Skipper guided them through the firestorm. The intercom crackled to life again. “Breaching now.” The Vulture, rocketing towards the small space station, suddenly spun about without changing its trajectory. The rear of the lander slammed, hard, against the hull of the station. A combination of shaped explosives and fusioncutters blasted a hole in the station’s hull as the Vulture’s rear access hatch extended a self-sealing tube around the new entrance. The commandos and the Sith Lord unfastened their crash webbing, jumping to their feet and readying their weapons. The noises coming from the rear of the ship ceased. Skipper joined them in the passenger bay. Captain Keboth-Don reached out and opened the access hatch. The boarders exploded into action. Three of the commandos leapt out of the Vulture and went left, the next three went right. Kyravi stepped into the station behind them. They were in a long, wide corridor that curved away in both directions. No enemies were yet in sight. Keboth-Don called up a map of the station – a droid factory known as Ikuma 6. “We’re right on target.” His voice was muffled by his helmet. “Head right to Sector Besh.” They went at a steady jog, armored boots clanking on the metal flooring. Kyravi rolled his shoulders, trying to adjust to the unaccustomed weight of his armor. He immersed himself in the Force, absently disengaging the safety on his borrowed blaster rifle. Then he was diving forward, crashing against the wall, his Force-assisted reactions far ahead of conscious action. “Take cover!” he commanded. Omega sprang apart. Ahead, a blast door spun open to reveal a troop of battle droids which opened fire. Kyravi surrendered control to the Force. He aimed and fired faster than thought, downing a dozen droids in half as many seconds. Omega regrouped, checking for injuries and armor damage. None had taken a serious hit. Ahead of them, the way was cluttered with smoking metal corpses. Grin grunted. “Nice moves, Sith.” “What did I tell you?” Kella asked smugly. “Enough chatter,” Keboth-Don barked. “Sector Besh is just ahead. Ready the charges.” They moved into the next room, stepping carefully over the droids’ remains. Two members of Oemga went to each of the rooms doors, closing them and taking up firing positions in case of intruders. Sarik, Omega’s demolitions specialist, began unreeling a length of cable from a pouch on his hip. “Detcord,” he explained, winking at Kyravi. “Cuts durasteel like butter.” He laid the detcord out in a circle ten feet in diameter, then cut the line. “Everyone who wants to keep their limbs attached, back outside,” Keboth-Don barked. They retreated to the corridor, lying prone among the dismantled droids. The captain looked to Sarik and nodded. With a cheerful grin, Sarik thumbed the detonator. Kyravi hastily clapped his hands over his ears as a quick, surprisingly quiet boom sounded from the next room. Omega rose as one, racing to the newly-created gap in the floor. Five fastened magclamps to the edge of the hole – from these issued long, thin cords by which they would rappel into the room below. The sniper, Korral, knelt to provide covering fire. Kyravi stepped to the edge of the opening as Omega descended. The floor was a good twenty meters below and strewn with the debris of battle. More than two score of battle droids were closing in on a pair of Jedi, who stood with their backs together, their lightsabers weaving a web of energy around them. Kyravi hopped over the edge. He fell past Omega, drawing on the Force to cushion his landing. He alighted in the midst of the battle droids, his boots hitting the floor with a soft thunk. The closest droid was already turning to inspect him, doubtlessly classifying him as a threat. Kyravi swung his blaster rifle up and fired a quick burst into the droid’s chest, sending it toppling down. Kyravi continued his attack, spraying another four droids with blasterfire as they recognized the threat in their midst. Then Omega landed around him, weapons blazing. From above, Korral fired round after round into the mechanical platoon below, never missing. The battle was over in less than a minute. From their position in the center of the debris field, the two Jedi -- a male Cerean and a young woman – cautiously held their ground, lightsabers held ready. Omega had their weapons trained on the Jedi, wary for any sign of an attack. Kyravi stepped forward, casually letting his rifle hang against his chest, suspended by its shoulder strap. “Jedi Ium-Os-Nam. I’ve heard great things about you.” He inclined his head politely toward the Cerean, whose tall, conical head was topped with a knot of dark hair. “Who . . . what . . . are you?” Ium-Os-Nam asked cautiously, eyeing Kyravi’s armor and weaponry. “I am Kyravi, Lord of the Sith,” Kyravi stated, his tone edged with a hint of pride. “But, believe it or not, I mean you and your companion no harm.” The young woman’s mouth quirked in an ironic half-smile. “Yeah, right. A friendly Sith. That’s believable.” Kyravi frowned at her. “If I had wanted you dead, I would’ve let the droids finish you.” Ium-Os-Nam didn’t lower his guard. “If you aren’t here to kill us, what do you want?” Kyravi’s chin rose in distaste. “I need your help.” “Jedi don’t get involved in Sith politics,” the Cerean stated flatly, his eyes narrowing. Kyravi gave the Jedi his best, most honest smile. “You misunderstand. We share the same goals here. We both seek the downfall of Lord Maronis.” He stepped closer, palms upraised in a placating gesture. “The thing is, neither of us can do it alone.” Ium-Os-Nam glanced at his companion, then extinguished his lightsaber. “Consider me intrigued, Sith. Do you have a plan?” “Always . . .” --------------- Still not much in the way of backstory, but never fear, that will be coming in Part Three -- likely tomorrow. Please keep the feedback coming, especially if it's negative Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
shanesuhboss Posted October 10, 2012 Share Posted October 10, 2012 I love it so far! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Darth_Scelestus Posted October 15, 2012 Author Share Posted October 15, 2012 (edited) So, I was working on Part Three, then I thought, I can do so much more with this story. So I revised my outline, moved some stuff around, and decided it was time for a flashback. Be warned -- there ARE some spoilers for the end of the Sith Inquisitor Act III storyline contained in this part. Not much, but enough that, if you are trying to avoid spoilers, you might want to skip this post. ---------------PART THREE Bridge of the Terminus-class destroyer Malevolence, three weeks after the rise of Darth Nox “My lord, Lord Erriant is requesting permission to come aboard.” The comm officer, a young ensign named Nerron, fidgeted anxiously, nervous in his master’s presence. “Erriant?” Kyravi frowned. “Did he say why?” Nerron quickly reviewed the data scrawling across his terminal. “No, my lord. He, uh, requests to speak to you privately, as soon as possible.” Kyravi snorted. Lord Erriant never requested anything, he demanded. “Calm yourself, ensign. I don’t kill my servants without good reason.” Fear was good when it kept people in line. It was a tool all Sith learned to use early in their careers. But when it got in the way of efficiency, when it stifled innovation and improvisation, it became an obstacle – and Kyravi greatly disliked obstacles. “I . . . yes, my lord.” The newly appointed Sith Lord – Kyravi’s Master Lord Iolis had named him such only three weeks earlier – moved to the bridge’s forward veiwports, searching the vast vista of space for the approaching vessel. He spotted it, still far out but closing fast. In the Force, it reeked of the dark side. “Direct Lord Erriant to dock. Inform him I will await him in my quarters.” The slight would not be lost on the pompous Erriant. Kyravi was eagerly anticipating putting the man in his place. Kyravi walked quickly from the bridge. Solir, his Mon Calamari advisor, fell into step with him as he entered the ship’s main corridor. “Lord Iolis has been trying to contact you,” Solir said. His voice was calm, but his Force presence, minor though it was, was tinged with . . . uncertainty. “Why was it not put through to my personal comm?” Kyravi demanded. Solir shrugged. “Something seems to be distorting the signal. Nerron is trying to establish a connection.” “Something is worrying you.” It was not a question. They were entering Kyravi’s quarters, a set of sparsely furnished rooms. “I’ve been unable to establish communications with his mercenary force. They were supposed to contact me when they finished the contract on Nal Hutta.” “You think the source of the comm distortion is on our end?” Kyravi asked, settlng into the chair behind his desk and reviewing the first in a small stack of datapads, reports from variously archeological dig sites and translations of ancient writings. Solir remained standing, and Kyravi noticed that he kept one large eye on the suite’s single entrance. “We may have a saboteur aboard the Malevolence.” Kyravi frowned, closing his eyes and leaning back as he concentrated. He drew the Force through him, sifting through the emotions that presented themselves. One person in particular leapt out at him, a presence burning with dark purpose. With a carefully projected sense of calm, Kyravi activated his holo comm. “Captain Dallos, destroy Lord Erriant’s vessel. Immediately.” The captain responded at once, clearly alarmed. “I'm sorry, my lord, but Erriant has already docked.” “Then vent the hangar to space. Kill him.” Kyravi did not waste time waiting for Dallos’ reply. He sprang from his chair and sprinted out the door, Solir at his heels. The Force throbbed with rage as Erriant, somewhere toward the mid of the Malevolence, engaged the ship’s security. Solir darted towards the dormitories, likely to rouse the marines. Kyravi grasped the hilt of his lightsaber and increased his pace. Then the blast door between Kyravi and the swirling whirlwind of the dark side that was Erriant was blown open. Kyravi slid to a halt, using the Force to anchor himself in place and send a bolt of blue-violet lightning through the opening. Stepping through the doorway, Erriant caught the bolt on his burning red blade. He was tall, and wide of shoulders, heavily muscled and garbed in dark battle armor. He was a member of the dying race of Sith, a Pureblood, and he was not one to let it be forgotten. Lord Erriant’s lips twisted in what might have been a smile, and a low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Is that the best you’ve got, Kyravi?” Eyes narrowing in concentration, Kyravi gestured with his free hand towards one of the fallen sections of the blast door. The hunk of metal shot off the floor and through the space Erriant had occupied a mere second before. Erriant’s evasive jump carried him directly into Kyravi’s follow-up attack, another bolt of Force lightning. Grunting, the Pureblood botched his landing, nearly slipping to a knee as his legs spasmed. Erriant struggled to gain control of his limbs. Then Kyravi’s saber was sweeping down at the exposed flesh of Erriant’s neck. Erriant threw himself sideways and shoved Kyravi with the Force, buying just enough time to get his feet under him. Then a ceiling panel smashed down on Erriant’s back. Kyravi darted in close again, flicking his saber at Erriant’s face and neck, the only areas not covered by the Pureblood’s armor. Erriant intercepted a dozen of Kyravi’s blows, then went on the offensive, using his massive strength and greater reach to batter Kyravi down. Kyravi retreated back the way he had come, now trying to put as much distance between himself and Erriant as possible. He snapped off a trio of lightning bolts, but his opponent caught them on his saber. Then Erriant stopped pursuing. He extended a hand in Kyravi’s direction, focusing. Kyravi stopped backpedaling and waited. He felt something large and heavy come hurtling towards him from behind with back-breaking speed. Kyravi wited until the last possible instant, then leaped above it, flattening himself against the ceiling of the corridor with the Force. As the object – a durasteel crate – rushed past below, Kyravi gave it an extra Force shove. The crate slammed into Lord Erriant’s chest and knocked him off his feet. He slid five meters before finally coming to a rest, the crate pinning him to the floor. Kyravi approached his fallen foe cautiously, unsure how much damage the crate had done. As he saw Erriant’s right hand twitch towards his fallen saber, Kyravi prepared to pounce. Then, his danger sense *****ling, Kyravi spun about and dropped into a defensive stance. A dozen marines had been approaching from behind, their presences drowned out by Erriant’s aura. They were soldiers from the Malevolence, people Kyravi recognized from the crew’s mess hall and the ships corridors. And they were pointing their blaster rifles squarely at Kyravi’s chest. From the floor, Erriant began to laugh. “I underestimated you, Kyravi.” “Don’t feel too bad,” Kyravi replied, his heart sinking. “There’s a lot of underestimating going on around here today.” Kyravi weighed his chances. If he engaged the marines, he could probably kill them all without getting hit. But by the time he was done, Erriant would have regained his feet and be attacking from behind. If Kyravi finished off Erriant before the Pureblood could recover, the marines would shoot him in the back. And then whatever chance Kyravi had was lost as Erriant shoved the crate off his chest and leapt to his feet, lightsaber in hand. Kyravi waited for Erriant to order the marines to fire. He waited for Erriant to lunge forward and shove a lightsaber through his heart. Neither happened. “In the name of my Master, Lord Maronis, servant of Darth Nox of the Dark Council, I place you under arrest for the murder of Lord Iolis.” Kyravi could hear the smug tones of victory in Erriant’s voice. “Lock him in the brig.” --------------- This takes place approximately one week before the events of Part One. I hope it helps everyone understand a bit more about what is going on in this little corner of my Star Wars universe Part Four will explain a bit how Kyravi got from where he was in Part Three to his circumstances in Part One, as well as continue the main storyline. I'd like to say I'll have Part Four up tomorrow, but I'm not certain. Edited October 15, 2012 by Darth_Scelestus Typo -- ship class Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Darth_Scelestus Posted October 17, 2012 Author Share Posted October 17, 2012 This is another flashback. Spoiler'd for length. ---------------PART FOUR The Malevolence, in orbit around Dunston VII, two days after Lord Kyravi’s imprisonment “Alright, they’re gone,” Ensign Takon whispered. Like so many of the officers in the Imperial Navy, he was human, born and raised on Dromund Kaas. He knew that, when the Sith were involved, it was best to avoid picking a side. He knew what happened to those who displeased the Sith. And he knew that, sometimes, you had to pick a side, and that when you did, you d*mn well made sure you won. That’s why, when the Pureblood Lord Erriant had come aboard and placed Lord Kyravi in the detention cells, Takon had helped hide Kyravi’s Mon Cal aide, Solir, from the search parties. As Kyravi’s closest companion, everyone knew that Solir would be the rallying point for any effort to free the captured Sith Lord. Takon and a few – so very few – like-minded individuals had pilfered cutting tools from Engineering and carved a square meter out of the floor beneath one of their bunks. They shoved had Solir down into the tight space between the decks, and smuggled him food and water as often as they could. One of the more daring members of the conspiracy, Corporal Tannis (of the Malevolence’s marine complement) had snuck into an escape pod and launched, hoping Lord Erriant would believe Solir had escaped. The Malevolence’s gunners had picked off the escape pod within minutes. But security sweeps had died down after that, and Solir, kept updated about the happenings by the small loyalist group, judged it time to attempt the rescue. Now, Solir, Takon, and three marines made their way cautiously through the corridors towards the brig, relying on their insider in Security – Ensign Karasa – to keep their progress hidden from any of Erriant’s men. The ship’s intercom beeped to life. “Attention, all personnel: brace for jump to hyperspace. Repeat, brace for jump.” Takon cursed quietly. “Those repairs should have taken them longer. Erriant must have kept Engineering up all night to get the drives stabilized.” Solir gripped the small sidearm that he carried with him at all times. “We still have a few hours before we’ll reach Dromund Kaas. Plenty of time.” That said, it was clear that everyone felt a new pressure, a new sense of urgency. They reached the secondary entrance to the detention center without incident. The doors they needed to get through were closed, and likely sealed, but Ensign Karasa opened them remotely. Solir led the small group in, all crouching low with their weapons drawn. The detention center was much more crowded than usual. It was obvious that Lord Erriant was taking no chances with his prisoner escaping. Solir did a head count as he raised his sidearm, noting at least fifteen targets. Then he opened fire. The lieutenant in charge of the shift, Nelsoc Reynning, one of the most petty men Solir had ever met, dropped to the floor with a hole in his chest right above his rank insignia. Takon had managed to secure himself a blaster rifle from the armory the day before, and got two of the nearest security guards with his first spray. Another five were dropped by the rest of the group. The security guards reacted quickly, diving to cover and returning fire. One of the marines in Solir’s group tossed a frag grenade into the center of the room, and suddenly there were a lot fewer defenders. From her place in the main Security Office one deck above, Ensign Karasa sealed all the exits to the detention center and cut all comms. Her supervisor could override her commands, but first he’d have to notice something was wrong. The last of the security guards fell, outflanked by Solir’s marines. Moving quickly – all the blasterfire must have been noticed by now – Solir grabbed Lieutenant Reynning’s access card and headed to the long row of cells. He opened each as he went, unsure which contained Kyravi. The Sith was, of course, in the last cell in the row. Kyravi was huddled on the cell’s single bunk, his hands bound by stun-cuffs. From the look of him, he was drugged. The cuffs yielded to the dead lieutenant’s card, and Solir jabbed Kyravi with a syringe of adrenals someone – likely Takon, that man had definitely earned a promotion – had nabbed from the medbay. The stuff worked fast. Within a minute, Kyravi was sitting up and rubbing his hands, trying to get his blood flowing. “Where am I?” he asked. “Still aboard the Malevolence. It’s been two days.” “Quick work,” Kyravi said, getting to his feet. “I expected to wake up on Dromund Kaas, just in time for my execution.” He paused. “They’re framing me for Lord Iolis’ death.” Solir grimaced. “So I’ve heard. Maronis is making a power play.” “I realized that.” Kyravi held out his hand expectantly to Solir. “My lightsaber?” Instead, Solir placed a blaster pistol in the Sith Lord’s waiting hand. “Erriant smashed it. Try shooting people, it’s actually rather fun.” Kyravi regarded the blaster contemptuously. “Hmm.” Ensign Takon appeared at the cell’s aperture. “My lord, there’s a security detail trying to cut through the main door.” “Any word from Karasa?” Solir asked. Takon shook his head. “She might be dead. From what I understand, she wasn’t sure how well she could hide what she was doing, once they caught on to what was happening here.” Kyravi made for the small cell’s exit, the adrenal shot adding a bit of a bounce to his step. “Let’s get moving. Solir, do you have anyone on the bridge?” “No, I didn’t have enough time. I had hoped to get Ensign Nerron on our side, but apparently he’s disappeared.” Kyravi didn’t slow. “Interesting.” He approached the detention center’s main entrance, a set of thick blast doors that someone was trying very hard to cut through. “They’ll switch to explosives in a moment,” Solir noted as the cutting beam faltered. Kyravi’s lips twitched in a feral smile. “No they won’t.” He closed his eyes and extended his left hand towards the door. He expanded his perception, reaching out with the Force, allowing his fury at his betrayal and capture to fuel his power. He located the small, flickering presences of the assault squad beyond the door. There were ten of them; two had small, inanimate packages on their belts, perceivable in the Force as bundles of destruction. It was so simple to set them off. The resulting explosion shook the floor, and the blast doors bulged ominously. They held, though severely weakened. Kyravi surveyed his troops. “We go now to the bridge and retake this ship. Each of you will be rewarded for your service when all of this is done.” He looked to Solir. “When I find Erriant, stay out of the way.” Then the blast doors were smashed open by an invisible force. Kyravi darted through the opening and the carnage beyond, flattening an unfortunate officer who failed to get out of his way. Solir and the rest of the group brought up the rear in a brisk trot, weapons readied for battle. A dozen brief skirmishes slowed their progress. Each time he engaged the enemy, Kyravi looked eagerly for Erriant, and each time he was disappointed. The arrogant Pureblood seemed to be hiding, perhaps waiting for Kyravi to expend his strength. It only added fire to Kyravi’s hate. The entire journey to the bridge, Kyravi cultivated that hate, that rage, sharpening it into a weapon. He held his power in check, though, like a man with his finger on the trigger of a very big gun. At that moment, no one on the Malevolence mattered as much to Kyravi as Erriant. The door to the bridge loomed ahead as Erriant began his assault. The first casualty was Ensign Takon, who got caught in the edge of a tremendous Force wave aimed at Kyravi. Kyravi shielded himself from the attack, staggering slightly but unharmed. Takon was not as fortunate; he slammed against the left wall of the corridor, bounced off the ceiling, and fell in a crumpled heap. Erriant had gathered a eighteen marines – the remainder of the ship’s complement – and masked them with his presence, which hung all over the ship like a great cloak and made it impossible for Kyravi to get a fix on him in the midst of the chaos. Now Erriant’s marines sprang from hiding and exchanged shots with the few men who backed Kyravi. Kyravi’s counterattack shook the corridor. Bodies bounced around, thrown from cover and against the walls. He rejoiced in his power. Never before had he drawn upon the dark side so strongly. He felt invincible, immortal – until a marine shot him. The offending marine died almost before Kyravi realized he had been hit. It wasn’t a serious wound, but it would slow him, distract him. And Kyravi realized that Erriant had been waiting for just such a moment. The Pureblood joined the fray, flinging himself out of a side corridor and bisecting one of Kyravi’s men with his red lightsaber. Then he jumped at Kyravi, intending to impale his bladeless foe. Kyravi swatted Erriant out of the air. He pointed at Erriant’s saber with one finger and the blade’s hilt crumpled, extinguishing the weapon. Erriant watched with dismay. “I have you now, Erriant,” Kyravi hissed, gathering the Force in his left hand in preparation for a blast of lightning. He drew on the swirling emotions of the skirmish being waged around him, savoring the strength they gave him. Combat was . . . glorious, he decided. He’d have to remember to do it more often. But then, one of the last of Erriant’s marines – the rest having been killed by Kyravi’s attack or the skilled shooting of his men – threw a grenade. Kyravi redirected its flight away from himself and his men harmlessly, but the second of distraction allowed Erriant time to retreat. Kyravi watched his foe fleeing, his instinct telling him to run him down and kill him. Regretfully, he let him go. Without the emotions of the battle to sustain himself, Kyravi felt drained. Even the adrenal’s effects were lessening. His arms were shaking, he noticed in surprise. “Secure the bridge,” he rasped, wishing he had some water. “Then we cut off the air. Everyone not with us dies.” No one fought them. With Lord Erriant’s retreat, everyone quickly decided that they had always been, and would always be, Kyravi’s men. The bridge was sealed. Kyravi stalked to the Flight Control Officer’s station. “Can you lock down the hangar?” “No, my lord,” the FCO responded hesitantly. “Someone has remote control. They shut me out.” Then, “My lord, we’re falling out of hyperspace!” Kyravi sighed. “It isn’t you fault. We’ve had a member of Imperial Intelligence with us for the past several weeks.” Solir, now standing next to Kyravi, asked, “Who?” “Ensign Nerron, our former non-Communications Officer. And I must say, he is very good at his job.” Kyravi watched over the FCO’s shoulder as, on a screen displaying the interior of the Malevolence’s hangar, Lord Erriant’s shuttle escaped into space. Frowning, Kyravi turned and went to stare out the forward viewports. “Disable life support throughout the rest of the ship,” he commanded. In an aside to Solir, he added, “I think this went rather well, don’t you?”--------------- This was supposed to be just the first part of Part Four, but it ended up being longer than I expected. Part Five, which is almost done, will pick up where Part Two left off. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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