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“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, I’m going as fast as I can”
“… twist”
“What?”
“It’s ‘don’t get your knickers in a twist’”
“No, it’s not”
“No, it is”
“Is not”
“It’s not knot!”
spoke up their Talz companion, interrupting the back and forth between the slicing Twi’lek and the ever vigilant Sith lord standing guard. She took pride in her more elicit skills, but one can only do so much, no matter how much a techno-lacking Force wielder demands a door be opened this very instant.
A sound of disgust emerged from her throat, “Is now really the best time for this? Just help me get this kriffing door open”
Letum stayed in position, deflecting blaster bolts left, right, and center, as Broonmark pushed the hefty durasteel door. Vette helped too. “I thought you said you could slice it?!”
“I did, but that last explosion knocked out the compound’s power just now!” the crew had landed back on Balmorra. Rebel insurgents had found new life in the renewed conflict between Empire and Republic forces. With more open backing, controlling the planet had become a far more challenging task for Darth Lachris. It was an obvious choice to request the Wrath’s aid once again.
The assault on the stronghold before them was proving to be brutal. It came at no surprise, the struggle was to be expected, but Imperial Intelligence had failed to note the influx of droid forces. It seems they didn’t keep track of the rebels’ progress in retaking and repairing the droid factories. A mistake which would have to be corrected. Later, however. Now was the time for battle. The frustration was merely another source of fuel. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. He had always found this to be true, any time, any place. A battlefield was simply one of the most obvious expressions of this truth.
“What you lack in expressions you make up for in sheer ability to get into places you don’t belong”
“Hey…! Was that a compliment? I can never tell with you” she gave him a playful shove as he chuckled. He made walking backwards on a battlefield staring down the barrel of nearly five dozen battle droids armed to the teeth almost appear a simple task. It certainly impressed a girl, she gave him that.
Broonmark simply gave a groan,
Their lord cleared his throat before activating comms to the second-strike team, “Pierce, give me good news”
His response was tinted with static and patchy, but what came through confirmed they had made it in through the old sewer system, though he certainly complained of the smell. Checking in with Jaesa, her own Sith strike team had eliminated the left flank of rebels and their mechanical assistants. Why couldn’t his job have been that easy? Then again, he taught her well. Sometimes he thought he taught her too well.
“Alright, then let’s head inwards.”
“Forward onto the breach?”
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more”
“Of course you know it verbatim”
It’s true, it was one of his favorite pieces, and he had plenty of time to study back at the academy. Shapeskearean works are classics. One line stuck out to him in particular; Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage. So true a statement for a Sith. Rage against one’s foe, against their struggle against you, against the very fact that they do not submit and thus force you into conflict. Disguise it, deceive them into thinking they have a chance to overcome you. Then, at the final moment, let loose upon them. Though, in a way, he admired them. Many of his ‘colleagues’ would call it a dangerous sentiment for any number of reasons, but he couldn’t help but appreciate their tenacity to fight a far greater enemy, one which would show little mercy. There was honor in that, he thought.
But now was not the time for stray thoughts. Now was the time for action, for bloodshed, and rivers of crimson to flow.
One fell after the other. Letum and Broonmark stood back to back, drawing in foolish combatants with cover from afar by Vette’s trusty pistols. She had remarkable aim when they had first met, and it had only improved since. A bolt from her blaster could pass within a centimeter of his head and he’d not flinch. Usually. Most of the time.
Dozens upon dozens flooded from this doorway and that corridor and wait… the ceiling duct? The hell? One couldn’t fault them for creativity he supposed. Not that it helped them much, they died all the same. The Talz’s fur was coated and matted in red, sweat dripped off the Sith’s brow, and Vette merely stretched her neck. Sharpshooting would make anyone tense, especially with so much on the line.
It became quiet. Too quiet. The smoke which hung in the air had finally settled to reveal at least a hundred corpses before them. Vette found it distasteful, but Broonmark puffed out his chest and proclaimed the three of them great warriors. The quiet, however, had proven to be a threat just as thought when Pierce checked in again, this time under heavy fire and blocked on his route to the objective. How many of these rats are there? Letum thought, surely their numbers are dwindling. Apparently not, since Jaesa had encountered her own block. Rather massive battle droids were preventing her from meeting up with her master.
Broonmark was sent to flank the droids while Vette and Letum made their way into the bowls of the complex. It was massive, and had they not procured blueprints beforehand, they’d be well and truly lost. Something to thank Pierce’s skills for yet again. Letum had to admit he was hesitant to take on such a… colorful individual such as him at first, fearing for a tendency of disobeying orders, but he was just as loyal as Quinn and just as sharp too. He’d come to rely on the man a great deal and made sure he knew his efforts had not gone unnoticed.
“Sir, I don’t mean to rush you, but it’s getting a little too hot down here for comfort” that was saying a lot coming from the Major.
Finally, they had made it. It appeared a handful of the Major’s men had fallen, but not so many as to lose the position. Fine soldiers, the lot of them. Letum would see that their sacrifice would be repaid with a dozen rebels each in kind. Families would be contacted, loved ones sorrowed, but maybe, just maybe, a conflict ended. Red blades cried out, cutting down all before them. The Sith would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this. In fact, he reveled in it. The carnage, the bloodshed, the fear in the eyes of his foes. It was rare he found an equal in combat, however, to his misfortune. Slaughter was all well and good, but there was something special about truly earning a victory over one’s enemies.
At last, after what seemed to be hours of combat, the blaster fire had silenced. A limited ease settled through the sinews of the survivors. One must always be on edge in the middle of a battle, however. If you’re not, the chances of death rise significantly to higher levels than are comfortable. For most, at least.
“Thanks for the assist, sir, much appreciated”
“Report, Major”
The man before him straightened to attention, “We’re not far from our objective, only a few hundred meters of tunnels and we’ll reach the generators”
Quinn spoke up next, appearing from behind Pierce, “Yes. I must admit, the Major’s been more than competent. Got us this far, at the very least”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Captain”
Letum was reminded of old couples spitting back and forth, and the image of the two in polka-dotted dresses and crocheted shawls was more than amusing. Only Vette noticed the smirk on his face and in fact mirrored it. Yet another inside joke for later, “And I trust the explosives have remained intact?”
“Of course, m’lord, we’re professionals!”
Quinn muttered something under his breath. Probably something mildly venomous.
“Alright then, let’s carry on…” he paused, activating his comms once again, “Jaesa, has Broonmark reached you?”
Static crackled in his ear, “Yes, master. The droids have been dealt with. Do you want us to come to you?”
“No, hold your position. Once we rig this place to blow, we’ll need to exit quickly. I’d rather you not get caught up in the blast”
“Aw, master, you care!”
A few chuckles were shared amongst those around him before a solid glare silenced them in stifled coughs.
Deeper they delved, a heavy jog keeping them on schedule. It was mysteriously quiet, just as before, leaving Letum’s eyes shifting to his peripherals. One minute passed, and then another, and before long heavy pants sounded out behind him.
“Alright, m’lord, we’re not as freakish as you. Let’s pause a moment, yeah?” Quinn went to reprimand her outburst but thought better of it. The Sith seemed to allow it, and the Captain’s protests were rarely—if ever—successful.
“Fine, fine, but make it quick”
“Yeah, we’ll do that” she said, sticking out her tongue in his general direction.
Pierce knelt into a sitting position, pulling out a water pouch. Of course, he had to wash the water down with something, so he followed it with a swig from his flask. A very large flask for a very large man. The commando chuckled, nodding his head in Vette's direction as he offered her a swig, “Why His Lordship indulges your bratiness I'll never understand”
The Twi’lek scoffed, yanking the flask from his hand. She used a bit of her shirt to wipe the mouth of it before taking a long sip, “Sleeping in a Sith’s bed has its advantages, I guess” Vette said, smirking as she took another sip, bathing in the shocked silence that now surrounded her.
This was as good a time as any to assess the plan and he desperately wanted to change topics. They had encountered more resistance than expected anyhow, adjustments may be necessary. The Good Lord cleared his throat, echoing throughout the tunnels, eventually dissipating into the sound of an eager predator thirsting for violence. “The elevator is three blast doors down, yes?”
Pierce coughed as he scrambled to put out a death stick against the bottom of his boot, now nearly standing at attention, “Er, yes, that’s right, sir”
“Should we encounter any problems?”
“Aside from half an army between us and it, and perhaps even more reinforcements from the lower levels? No, not really”
The crew chuckled at that, mostly the regulars, however. Those not accustomed to working so directly with Sith, let alone the Empire’s Wrath, were far more skittish. Rather amusing, really.
Said Wrath looked across their faces. Men, women, and everything in between. Even a few aliens. While many amongst them were newer to the Wrath’s Legion, the rest were amongst his finest soldiers. Each battle hardened and proven loyal. They would follow him beyond the borders of the galaxy if he asked, and he knew it. Whether or not he would was another matter, one he didn’t care about in the moment. What he did care about was getting these men through the end of the mission. A little morale boost wouldn’t hurt.
Darth Letum spoke to them about why they were there—stability, order, control. This resistance was trying to destroy the safety and peace of the Empire (long may it reign). He spoke to them of who and what they were—elite Imperial troopers, agents, and commandos. There was a reason he requested their transfers; they were the best. Finally he reminded them of home. Not his, though he kept it in mind, for it was a finely crafted hunk of durasteel hurling through the cold, unforgiving void. But there were others who inhabited that hunk of durasteel, others he had come to know as friends… as family.
He gave a final nod to the group “Now, perform your duties well, stand your ground, and kill more of them than they do us” More time passed than he would have liked, but such was the way of things, “Alright, let’s head out, no time to spare—” he made a point of reaching his apprentice once more, “—Jaesa? How are things on your end?”
He received nothing but static. Perhaps a broken word or two, but nothing remotely definable.
“Should we go back and—?”
“No, the mission takes priority. She’s a big girl, and she has the Talz with her”
“Fair point”
They continued on, making short work of the first blast door only to be met by the half army Pierce spoke of earlier. Fantastic. Truly. No matter, nothing they couldn’t handle. It was more of the same, really, lots of blaster fire, lots of saber swinging, a few grenades here and there. Was that a rocket just now? Huh, the Major knew where to hide all manner of things it seemed.
Taking a rough body count, the dead seemed to be… roughly eighty-five of their foes, two of their own and one wounded. A fourth escorted the injured man back the way they had come, fairly confident it was clear. Letum was hesitant to share the confidence, but the strike team couldn’t be hindered either.
The second blast door was no trouble either, yet there was a suspicious lack of enemy forces. Had they finally run out? Doubtful. That doubt proved true when they had to blow the third and final door open—the base was old and rusted, the deeper bowls seemed to be weakened by time and old age—there were nearly as many men as before and a handful of droids beside them, bi and tripedal alike.
“I have to commend you, Imperials, you’ve done well coming this far!” a rather scarred and beaten looking man stepped forth, almost pushing aside his own troops as he did so, “But I have to ask you to turn back now. After all this fighting there’s no way—” he leaned in, squinting ever so slightly, “—well, I’ll be damned, the reports were right! I thought they were all just pissing their britches in the chaos and fear when I heard of red blades, but there is indeed a Sith amongst you!” at the mention of the word made his men recoiled, and he shoved one yet again as if to reprimand their reaction, “Don’t mind them, they just have no manners”
‘Manners’, right.
The aforementioned Sith stepped forward to meet the would-be challenger, “I am Darth Letum, Empire’s Wrath, conqueror of—” oh how he hated being interrupted.
“I know who you are—” the enemy commander, or whatever his rank was, reached up and pointed to his faulty eye, “—I was there the last time you took our world. You took my eye too”
“Ah, I see… apologies, but I really can’t recall your face, I’ve cut down so many since I became Sith it’s hard to keep track. Besides, I can’t say I’d with to remember it in the first place” that last bit earned a snort from Vette off to his right.
The man before him simply scoffed and drew the blaster from his hip; not kindly appreciated by the lord’s fellows, “Figures one of your kind would say something like that, good men and women—”
“Not likely”
“—have died here, you son of a bitch, and you think you can make jokes?”
“I, in fact, can, as I am certainly capable of doing so. They wouldn’t have died had they simply kneeled”
“We will never yield. We will be free”
“What, free under the guise of the Republic?” everyone took pause, listening as intently as they could with blasters pointed at one another, “The same Republic ruled by money and backroom deals steeped in corruption? Senators who pay bribes, assassinations, and make deals with criminals? That is the ‘freedom’ you aim for?”
Now there were those questioning their loyalties, like school children looking around for the approval of their peers.
“We are building a new empire, reforging it into an opportunity for all. Where humans and aliens alike can prove their worth and earn station, rank, and due rewards.” He turned, a slowly sweeping his arm in a wide arc to particularly display the aliens alongside the humans—it always seemed weird that the rest of the galaxy were the aliens when the humans were but one of many, but he made it a point to never underestimate people’s stupidity. His future would prove that he never truly learned his lesson, however. He continued on, sensing the effects his words were having “We are building an empire where we rule and govern through loyalty and passion rather than fear and intimidation.” it was a tad ironic given the planetary situation, but rang true enough for some, “Lay down your arms, and I promise you will be spared and treated fairly. If you do not, you shall meet my blade on a very deep and personal level”
Those who now doubted their cause tenderly rested their weapons upon the ground, kneeling with hands on their heads with near instinct. Letum in turn could sense the pride and renewed vigor of those behind him. Even Vette, oddly enough. Perhaps he really had changed more than he thought since leaving Korriban.
“Cowards, each and every one of you! The rest, with me—attack!” in that moment he drew a blade from his back. Not new and fancy and flashy, but old and worn and proven, decorated in old blood and scars. Men and women around him drew their weapons in kind and those who had knelt shrunk further into their surroundings.
Letum leapt forth, screeching a deep howl as he brought his own blades to bear; the shimmer of the vibroblade grew bright against the crimson, echoing a fierce resonance of battle. They met again and again, the rebel commander almost matching the Dark Lord move per move. Letum, however, was better, utilizing every overt movement, every minute shift, every twist of wrist and twitch of muscle. His opponent was brave to face him in single combat amidst such violence, but he had only fought Imperial scouts, perhaps the occasional commando. Nothing on this caliber. Bit by bit he was beaten back. Bit by bit fear arose in his eyes. Once more, the Wrath was bathing in the violence and chaos of it all. It was a wonderful sensation. The pounding in his ears. The ache of his sinews. The force brought to muster by his skill and raw power. He knew he was going to win, they both did, and yet the commander fought on. Admirable, if foolish, and worthy of respect. Then again, they both also knew there would be no mercy or quarter—that time was gone. Now was the time for the blood of warriors to flow.
Blaster bolts sung around them, somehow missing them for the most part. Oddly enough, at least in the commander’s eyes, Letum protected him from those which would have felled the commander. This inspired more than a little confusion and concern alike, an excellent distraction to exploit. Little did he know that it was so the pleasure of the kill would be his and his alone. The lord saw the fatigue settling into his foe’s stance. His form drooped ever so slightly with each strike. Troops on both sides fell one by one. Fear approached the back of his mind, worrying Vette would be among them. Instead of pushing this fear aside he pulled it to the surface. He would use it to harden his resolve. He had his fun, now it was time to end this. The commander’s blade was held off from an overhead strike with Letum’s off hand saber, with his main hand landing the final blow in the perfect opening; a stabbing motion through the abdomen of the man before him. His eyes pulsed wide in shock, in pain, head tilting down ever so slowly to take in the sight of his own death. There was a sad realization in that look, and yet… pride. Yes, pride. Letum could sense it. Pride in the fight, pride in the struggle, pride in his own skill against a superior foe. That pride was well earned. He was met with a nod from his killer, the red blade in his gut deactivating with a burning hiss. The scent of charred flesh accented that of the smoke. Blaster fire thinned out slowly, Letum’s live blade deflecting this shot and that. Before long, the rebels were either dead or fully submissive. Pierce ordered his men to detain those who had surrendered, with his lord’s approval of course. They led them away the path they came, leaving even fewer men to lead onwards. That didn’t matter though, the path would be clear from now on. This was their last stand, and it had failed.
A corner turned and they met the elevator shaft. Something was amiss. Again.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Pierce leaned through the open door, spitting downwards, “Seems the bastards took out the elevator, or left it at the bottom. Either, way, I’m not sure we have enough cable to get down”
“Good thing we brought plenty of spares then, eh?” Vette gave a smile as she pulled out her own and began to gather the rest from those present.
“Aye, this could work. Could, being the operative word”
The Twi’lek simply scoffed at the Major once again, albeit in a playful manner, and got to work. She tied one after the other until she had fashioned a sufficiently lengthy rope, “Someone feel like helping me out here?”
One of the new recruits was feeling brave and went to take a step forward only to be blocked by Letum’s arm, stepping forward to hold her waist as she leaned over the pit they would soon be descending. Good thing she didn’t have a fear of heights. Or maybe she did, he couldn’t remember. It was only a few minutes before she finished her work and had Letum pull her back onto more or less solid ground. Explosions sounded overhead, but at least they were too deep to be shaken by them.
“Excellent work, seems tomb robbing has served you well”
His lover looked to him and grinned as slyly as a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard. Not the usual grin, but he knew what it meant, what was coming all the same. She saw an opportunity and she was going to take it come hell or high water, lacking entirely of remorse and mercy.
“Knot a problem, Sithy-boy”