I Am Become Death ~ Plague of Dis [Finale]

[Dmitri]

I Am Become Death

Finale of the Plague of Dis

"With order comes chaos,

with chaos comes destruction,​

with destruction comes death,​

and with death comes new order."​

​

The sleek sable tiles of the Clairvoyance’s command bridge were greeted by footsteps. The boots belonged to a Sith Lord named Geist Weiss. It was difficult to mistake the Illusionist. To the common man, he appeared to be a man made out of metallic silver, sporting a navy blue suit. No weapon was identifiable, giving him the appearance of harmlessness. But harmless he was not. Geist Weiss, otherwise known as Darth Somnus, was a member of the Dark Council and a master of the Force. Normally a pleasant man, he found his patience tapped with vexation.

Two days ago, a mysterious message was transmitted to the Imperium. “The ion rotor is complete.” Strangely, it had been sent from the Mercer Research Base on the Planet of Dis. The Imperium had written off the base as gone with the pandemic that claimed the planet. Still, the news was intriguing. According to Colonel Terqui Barrel, a Stormtrooper once stationed at the Mercer Research Base shortly before the pandemic quarantined the planet, the research on the ion rotor had been nearing completion for some time, just requiring final calculations. The transmission, the Rodian theorized, was automated, sent by the base’s AI.

Unfortunately, the plague was still a factor. The pandemic was a mystery, its symptoms and prognosis unknown. A few transmissions that had escaped the planet told stories of the dead walking. Nightwing was suspected, but unconfirmed; the Imperium had Nightwing tightly stored in its secret laboratories. As such, Terqui and the others wrote them off as words of hysteria.

The ion rotor was a vital piece to one of the Imperium’s plans. They could restart the research on the ion rotor or they could retrieve the completed project on Dis. Uncertain what they would find, Geist Weiss had commissioned a dozen Stormtroopers and two Sith to venture to the Planet of Dis, to serve as the advance team for the Clairvoyance. The Birikad shuttle had left Kashyyyk and no word has reached the Clairvoyance since. Geist Weiss had broadened his senses and could tell the Sith were alive. Geist had worked with Viole and Arkteleus in the past, and thus was troubled that they had not communicated, nor had General Sev’s highly praised Major Crarda’opuza’uose sent any progress reports. Though the Clairvoyance was to pick up supplies on Kashyyyk, Geist cut its time on the Wookie homeworld short by half a day by ordering the Star Destroyer to depart immediately.

The voyage had continued in silence, no word from the advance team. The only surprising report to reach the Illusionist was word that Nathanaeu Bastele had been captured and Darth Vereor was on his way to Reckoning to deal with the former Chief of State personally. Geist had taken to his quarters after debriefing Rookwrr, but now was back in the command bridge. The Wookie, having sensed the Sith Lord’s movement, made his way to the bridge as well, his footsteps muffled by fur. A lieutenant moved out of the way as Geist approached the Star Destroyer’s captain.

“We shall be exiting hyperspace shortly,” reported the captain.

“Excellent,” Geist said, a little irritation in his voice. His thoughts throughout the journey had been on what could have muted the advance team, though fighting for attention to his concerns about how Bastele was easily captured. Geist had heard rumors of quarantining measures in place on Dis, but if communications were being jammed, it made no sense that the Mercer Research Base’s transmission could have gotten through. Then again, being military-grade, it could have broken through the public domain jamming system, if one was set. Jamming after all was a matter of the strength of a signal, and imperial bases spared no expense. But even then he was still concerned why the Mercer Base’s occupants never transmitted before.

The lieutenant hovered behind the shoulder of a helmsman. Addressing entire bridge, the Sith lieutenant began counting down the time till reentry into realspace. When zero departed his lips, the rays of blue and white were replaced by three orbs polluting a field of white-specked blackness. The Planet of Dis was closest, with Erinyes coming over the horizon. The pale grey Dinea floated in loneliness to the left, the moon once thriving with mining following Dis like a shadow.

“So this is Di-” The words were barely out of the captain’s mouth when the ship suddenly began to shake. Those standing gave nearby stationary objects a fierce grasp. While the captain took to his seat, the two Sith defied the movement with sheer will and the power of the Dark Side. Before a minute’s length could be reached, the shaking ceased. However, several monitors radiated warnings and errors.

Though the event had shaken him physically, Geist had rejected attempts to let it shake him emotionally, to have the anger boiling blow. Pushing it under the surface, he addressed the crew. “What was that?” A technician imparted a report. Some sort of energy had been present when the Clairvoyance had entered the solar system. However, fifty-two seconds later, the energy dissipated. A Zeltron at a console reported sensors picking up a large explosion on the planet, a giant tower detonating around the time of the disruptor field’s cancellation.

Geist’s mind immediately wandered to a conversation with Arch’elie’lia, the former CAIN Director. She had told him once about the disruptor field on Lehon and plans to relocate it. He had assumed it was being sent to Chiss Space, where it would be dismantled and reverse engineered. However, he never expected to find one at Dis. Another question tugged at his mind: How was the tower destroyed? Vowing to get answers in the coming future, he had a suspicion the advance team had something to do with it.

They may have just saved our lives, thought Geist. However, there were five powerful Sith on board, so Geist suspected the Force could have been used to prevent the Star Destroyer from crashing. His train of thought was corralled to focus as several crewmen reported several system failures. Keeping track of each, it sounded like the Star Destroyer would survive. Unfortunately, the engineers would not be resting for some time.

Geist turned to face the Wookie in the room. Rookwrr had let not even a yelp or howl escape his mouth, and silence continued to define him. However, as eyes locked, or so the Wookie assumed due to the ignorance Geist’s illusions shed, the Wookie became much more attentive. “Rookwrr, go to the starboard hangar. Prepare a shuttle and take a squad to the planet. Find Major Rarda and the others if you can. I want you to find out what is going on.”

The Wookie let out a growl, voicing unfamiliarity with the schematics. The captain barked at the lieutenant. “Govan, get him a ‘pad.” Bowing slightly, though with annoyance one could only feel in the Force, the Sith lieutenant pulled up a map on his holopad and forfeited it to the Wookie. Rookwrr stalked out of the command bridge, as if hunting prey.

The Planet of Dis stared at Geist Weiss with eyes of death. Death had made its home here, and darkness bubbled from its britches. This husk of a trading hub between the New Sith Imperium and the Chiss Ascendancy was now nothing more than a hell. The siren planet had lured in imperials to its surface with more sailors to come, but Geist could sense soon it would sing a new tune, its swan song. The Force was clear the Planet of Dis was at its grave, Erinyes approaching closer and closer as an angel of death.

“Your Eminence, a bogey has appeared on our sensors, leaving the planet,” reported the Zeltron. The human next to her supplied Bogey 1 as a K-type Nubian yacht, an older model. It was attempting to leave. The Sith Lord felt the power accumulated in that ship. The Force was strong in that metal cocoon. Not a single Force user, but ten of them. Two signatures he recognized as Viole and Arkteleus. However, sensors picked up more than fourteen occupants inside. His own senses told the Illusionist that Ashla burned in the hearts of five of the Force users. Their presence was forged too skillfully to not be trained.

“What is the status of our tractor beams?” Geist inquired quickly. A human fumbled with his console, then reported that only one was online, albeit running on 42% power. “Capture Bogey 1. I want it brought aboard, starboard hangar.” The Clairvoyance was about to have company. The Sith Lord was feeling better about sending Rookwrr to the hangar. He should be able to deal with any troublemakers. Geist’s feet transported him to the communications officer’s booth. He commanded the officer to relinquish the headset. The officer hailed the K-type Nubian yacht. The Sith Lord spoke into the mic: “This is Lord Geist Weiss aboard the Clairvoyance. Prepare to be boarded.”

Seconds later, a voice contacted the Star Destroyer. “Clairvoyance, this is Private Athin Aldamar of the Imperial Navy.” The name intrigued the Sith Lord. He knew of Aldamar. The pilot was one of Rarda’s men, previously under Rufus Scryer’s command. After Scryer’s temporary confinement from the Second Battle of Klatooine, Aldamar had found himself swinging from battlegroup to battlegroup, first under Lospheira Fi’s command for the Yag’Dhul invasion and now a part of the Battlegroup Invincible. “Getting the Major now,” Aldamar added.

Static visualized the movement in the yacht’s cockpit as the Chiss major arrived. The major greeted Clairvoyance by reading off his authentication code. Aldamar had failed to supply one, though the pilot had not given the opportunity for one.

“What is the status of your mission, major?” Geist inquired.

“The package is in hand,” Major Rarda reported. “We ran into difficulties. A disruptor field was active on the planet, causing the Deliverance to crash; it has since been neutralized. Private Aldamar, myself, and Crusaders Krayzen and Nixar were the only survivors. I am requesting immediate quarantine measures be put into effect for Dis. The planet is overrun by zombies. Phirisan disease, they call it; some sort of parasite.” Geist could tell in the major’s voice that even the Chiss knew how preposterous that sounded. However, General Sev had not hinted that Rarda had a sense of humor, even an inappropriate one. The death that consumed Dis’ soul was evident to Rarda’s credibility. He had felt death in the form of life, and thus finally the puzzle was fitly put together with clarity.

Rarda’s report was not finished. “We’ve picked up some survivors.” His voice lowered in octave. “Five confirmed as Jedi, or at least affluent with the Light Side of the Force. We also came across…” The Chiss seemed to search for the right word. “…non-hostiles. Two members of the Hutt Cartel and Derro’an’nuruodo from the Chiss Ascendancy.” The name was familiar to Geist. Derro’an’nuruodo had been the successor for directorship of CAIN during Arch’elie’lia’s reign as Grand Imperator of the Chiss Ascendancy. After Arch’elie’lia returned to CAIN, Geist hadn’t heard anything of the man since. Private curiosity wondered if Derro’an’nuruodo had taken to retirement on Dis. If so, relaxation of his final years had evidently been caught with a hitch. “We’ll need reinforcements when we land.”

As the K-type Nubian yacht got closer and closer to the Clairvoyance, Geist could tell that one of the lights shined brighter than the others. This was no ordinary Padawan or Jedi Knight. Whoever they were, this man was a Jedi Master; a member of the Jedi Council, for all his intel knew. The current Jedi Council was a mystery except its leader, who had foolishly proclaimed her title to the Sith months ago.

Ending the transmission after giving Rarda orders to disembark immediately upon landing so the ‘package’ could be given to Terqui, Geist retreated from the communications officer with haste, his destination the exit. The captain let out a little peep, as if about to inquire where the Sith Lord was going but then changed his mind. Rarely was it smart to question a Sith Master or Lord, let alone a Dark Councilor. He did however send Govan after him in case he required assistance.

In Geist’s mind, there was only one place he should be. The place where he would meet this Jedi Master.

Larik Novan was glad to finally be rid of the hellhole called Dis. When he had offered to help the Rebels in their plight against the Imperium, this had not been what he had in mind. He had envisioned helping in attacks such as the Reckoning operation that was underway. Instead he found himself being sent on a wild bantha chase, playing babysitter for Caden Ansgar, Ben Losan, Techaro Ioka, and Sionann Ione. He didn’t care for Xanthus, the rebel agent. There was something dark about the man, a lingering shadow that had not yet extinguished. However, he kept his mouth to himself. He had learned too many times with pretty ladies at bars that sometimes one should just not say anything.

When forces unknown caused their ship to crash, his first thoughts had been that the imperials were behind it. This belief was compounded when they ran into krakking undead. Zombies, of all things, were low on his expectations. Then again, the Will of the Force was a fickle mistress. He was surprised to learn from Rarda and the Sith that the Imperium was not responsible for the Phirisan disease; initially wary of their claims, he began to believe their story after Ben Losan and Xanthus recounted their adventure at the Mercer Research Base. Justification for his vexation with the Imperium was diminished further when some Chiss named Derro’an’nuruodo revealed the ship crashed because of a disruptor field the Chiss had installed years ago. Derro’an’nuruodo, Viole Nixar, and Caden Ansgar had seen to the neutralization of that threat. He was forced to just be pissed with the situation in general, rather than using the Imperium as scapegoats.

For all the years he had fought against the Imperium and its Sith minions, he had not expected deliverance from hell to be aided by two Stormtroopers and two Sith. An imperial pilot named Athen or something of that sort was currently flying all of them off the planet aboard a K-type Nubian yacht the imperial, Techaro, and that Zeltron woman had found.

Sitting in the cargo bay with most of the others, Larik noted that the survivors had segregated themselves. The two Sith were closest to the door, the feline Sith Ark having helped the human Sith Viole aboard the ship. The Stormtrooper major had left for the cockpit a couple minutes ago. His Jedi companions were all sitting to the left of him as the Chiss who had shut down the disruptor field was in a discussion with a couple forest rangers. The two Cartel members were uncomfortably sitting on different sides of Xanthus. Xanthus, he noted, was also scanning the area.

He too is looking towards the next move, Larik thought. The Jedi Master just wished he knew what his move would be. They were being piloted by an imperial, so he suspected the pilot may try to take them to an imperial stronghold; after all, Dis was in Imperial Space. The Jedi on board had made it no secret they were Jedi, and it was amazing the Sith had kept restraint so far. But it was a necessary restraint, Larik knew all too well. They had been fighting for their lives against hordes of zombies. They needed each other if they were to survive. Tolerance was a necessary evil, for both sides. However, now they were flying away from the dire situation. It was all up in the air now. He suspected the imperials were up to something, especially when that major went to the cockpit.

Larik broadened his senses. He had never learned Theran Force listening so his ears were ineffective to learn anything, but he could borrow someone else’s. He pinned down Liile Glegor’s mind in the Force. The former Senator had been stuck on Dis long before imperials or rebels showed up and it had taken a toll. Now, flying away, he was finally relaxing, a dream desired for weeks. The relaxation came with an unknown catch to the Senator, in the form of his mind’s defenses lowering. Trying to not be as invasive as possible, Larik used Glegor’s ears to listen into Rarda’s conversation.

“…confirmed as Jedi, or at least affluent with the Light Side of the Force…”

Any rest his body was attempting to achieve was instantly annihilated. He had thought there would be more time to formulate a plan and escape. However, Rarda’s report, as he listened further, suggested the timetable was much shorter than initially anticipated. Suspicion entered his mind as he realized they had not entered hyperspace yet. The Jedi Master immediately opened himself to the Force, forsaking Glegor’s mind for greater clarity. He realized a great darkness was approaching. A Sith Lord, no, two, were approaching fast. Life flowed around them, their vessel an Imperial Star Destroyer. The lurch he felt earlier began to seem more and more like a tractor beam as he kept thinking about it.

Larik touched the minds of all the Jedi, warning them of what was to come. Xanthus seemed to have already realized they were heading to a Star Destroyer. If Arkteleus and Viole knew what was coming, they were doing a good job concealing it. His eyes noted Rarda returning to the cabin, taking a seat next to the Sith. The man’s mind was fortified, but he could sense the anticipation wrapping the Chiss’ mind.

The Corellian decided to test the waters. “Where we headed?” His voice was friendly, as if asking an old friend what cantina they were going to.

“A commercial freighter is in the system. We’ll land there where we’ll arrange separate transportation,” the major reported in a matter-of-fact voice. Like hell we are, Larik thought. Nowhere in the galaxy was an Imperial Star Destroyer carrying two Sith Lords considered just a commercial freighter. He had to give the man credit thought. He lied well. The Force, however, paid no heed to the facades of liars.

Larik sat in silence as the yacht made its way to the Star Destroyer. In those precious moments, he congregated with his fellow Jedi telepathically. Rushed, the plan they came up with was brazen and foolish. However, desperation propagated such tactics, sometimes breeding success. His hope was failure would be a bastard not met on this adventure. They had encountered too much misfortune already. If he was gambling man, he’d say Lady Luck was bound to shine favorably upon them this time.

As Caden slowly made his way to the cockpit, the imperial pilot Athen shouted from the cockpit that they were entering a hangar and to brace for landing. Moments later, a thud heralded a safe landing. Mjolla stood up first, stretching her legs and testing gravity. Everything in working order, she and her fellow Cartel member made way to the ramp first as it began to descend. However, three steps into their advance, vision showed the occupants of the yacht that a welcoming party was there to greet them. However, the Stormtroopers’ balloons were their rifles, their helmets their party masks. A Zabrak Sith Lord stood in center stage, one of the few noticeable aliens. A Rodian and Wookie were visible behind the line of Stormtroopers, all their weapons raised.

As Rarda disembarked and made his way to the Rodian, the Zabrak spoke up. “I am Scyphodeeiruus. You would be wise to listen to my command. Lay down your weapons and surrender. You are now prisoners of the New Sith Imperium.” The arrogance in his voice was revolting. There was no one greater than a Sith Lord, the Zabrak believed, and his voice shouted that to the galaxy. He would not tolerate dissidence, from anyone. Derro’an’nuruodo looked like he might protest but kept his mouth shut. The Chiss followed the two members of the Cartel off the yacht. Stormtroopers led them to the side. However, no one else made a move for the exit. Larik felt a little amusement in seeing the Sith Lord’s lips twitch is frustration. However, he was less thrilled about Scyphodeeiruus reaching for his lightsaber, Viole and Arkteleus mirroring.

Larik felt were his comrades were positioned. To his relief, Caden had made it in time. He had reached the cockpit before the ramp had extended. The Corellian shouted, “Now!” Suddenly the Jedi inside the cargo hold unleashed the Force all had summoned in those precious seconds. Viole and Arkteleus were thrown out of the yacht like tumbleweeds, knocking into Stormtroopers. The Padawan and Knight chased after Viole and Arkteleus. A thump could be heard from the cockpit. With Larik’s senses focused on the enemies in the hangar, the Jedi Master could not tell if Caden had succeeded in knocking out Athin or if the pilot had thwarted Caden.

The Stormtroopers that had avoided being hit by Sith body-bags immediately began firing. Larik’s erected lightsaber swatted away as much blasterfire as he could. A couple rangers joined in the firefight, aiding the Jedi. One ranger was struck by imperial blaster fire, collapsing. Larik deflected blaster fire back at the enemy. Two Stormtroopers were hit, one of them struck fatally. The Corellian attempted to aim ricochet at Scyphodeeiruus but the Sith Lord simply dodged them with a step to the left here, a step to the right there.

Larik grimaced. Techaro was occupied with Viole and a couple Stormtroopers while the Padawan was busy dodging Ark’s strikes. Scyphodeeiruus was slowly approaching. Larik didn’t like the idea of taking on the Sith Lord single-handedly. Without breaking eye contact with the Sith, Larik shouted, “Xan, we need to eliminate the lord.” Xanthus began to walk forward, his pace increasing each step. Before Larik knew what was happening, Xanthus charged forward. “Wait!” Larik shouted. They needed a plan. Xanthus, however, had other ideas. Scyphodeeiruus tensed for a second, preparing for a strike from Xanthus. However, the rebel suddenly jumped into the air, yelling “ROOKWRR!”

Scyphodeeiruus, realizing he wasn’t the target, grinned. The Sith Lord pounced toward Larik, blade extending in for the kill. The Jedi Master was quicker, bringing his lightsaber to intercept the strike intended for his abdomen. Lacking momentum, Larik retreated back a foot, to prevent the Sith Lord from attempting to overpower him. The Sith Lord raised his hand and lightning shot out from his fingertips. The lightsaber absorbed the energy, but his retreat had not given him the proper footing yet. The force of the attack caused him to lose his balance and be knocked down. Not allowing the lightning to be relit and strike him, Larik let his movements evolve into a cartwheel. When the Sith Lord unleashed his electrical fury once more, a Stormtrooper was electrocuted instead.

As Larik stood up, his peripheral vision comprehended that the fight was not going in their favor. A Rodian had joined in the offensive against Sionann, tipping the odds in Ark’s favor, though a few rogue shots almost struck the Crusader, to the feline’s annoyance. Techaro had slain Viole’s assistance, but had taken a shot to the abdomen, her movements slowing, pain a hindrance. Xanthus and Rookwrr were going all out, carrying little for the actions of those surrounding them. Rogue swings from their lightsabers scalped more than one Stormtrooper’s life.

Larik couldn’t afford to let distractions sap his attention. Scyphodeeiruus was quick on the trail, coming towards him. The first strike this time aimed for the neck. Larik ducked down, the lightsaber sizzling across the tips of his hair. His blade down, he flung out his fist as if to punch the Sith Lord with his lightsaber. The Zabrak was quick on his feet. He took a step to the side, the beam instead scrapping across his armor, sparing skin.

Larik kept the initiative alive. Compounding his movements, Larik lunged forward, this time letting the blade rise up from the torso to the Zabrak’s shoulder in the pattern of a crescent moon. The Sith Lord struck his lightsaber against Larik’s, halting Larik’s plan. Larik kicked Scyphodeeiruus in the chest, causing him to stumble back, weapon arm shaking away from its defensive position. Letting his speed hasten by the Force, Larik swung the lightsaber against the Zabrak’s ribs.

Larik let a grin creep into his lips in satisfaction of his maneuver. However, his eyes were astonished when the blade was halted by the armor. Though the armor had taken a beating, it had managed to soften the blow and prevent penetration. This time it was the Zabrak’s turn to grin, a cackle following suite. “This armor uses pieces from a Mandalorian I captured and killed during the genocide. You’re weapon is useless.” Larik hated to admit that the armor made this fight much more difficult. The armor was spread across his body, giving little room for a blade to pass through. Though it wasn’t full Mandalorian armor, the pieces were placed well. The neck was protected by a metal turtleneck. The recent tactic had caught Scyphodeeiruus off-guard, but Larik doubted such results could be replicated.

In the critical second Larik had attempted to use to figure out what to do, Scyphodeeiruus used the Mandalorian iron on his arm to swat away Larik’s lightsaber with his elbow then used that arm to grab Larik’s arm. With acrobatics a male was rare to sport, Scyphodeeiruus raised his leg up and kicked Lari’s weapon arm hard. Despite the carnage of the hangar drowning out a lot of the noise, the Corellian ears still heard the cracking of bones. Larik’s training immediately activated, helping dissolve much of the pain, making it bearable. However, the force of the blow had led to him dropping his lightsaber.

Scyphodeeiruus’s other hand raised. Larik suddenly was thrown back by an invisible blast, hitting the wall furthest from the shuttle. The Sith Lord lazily walked up to the Jedi Master, passing two Stormtroopers who stopped firing to let the Zabrak pass. For the Stormtrooper on the right, that had allowed a ranger freedom to aim more carefully, sniping the Stormtrooper. The Stormtrooper fell down, dead.

Larik attempted to ease himself up, but only had his other hand to assistance. His weapon arm was already swelling. He could barely move his fingers. His primary arm was all but useless. The Force was already moving to heal his arm, but it would not do him well anytime soon. Just as his legs were rotating to lift him from the ground, Larik felt a sudden pressure knock him onto the ground. Scyphodeeirus was now at his feet, looking down at the Jedi Master who was on his back.

Larik’s mind wandered to a memory of before he was recruited into CorSec. His father had been a lieutenant CorSec, a muscular man who was good at his job. Larik was in the middle of a set of pull-ups. “Larik, my boy,” Larik’s father told him. “Your body is a temple. Always be in shape, for you never know when your body will need to react suddenly or chase down a criminal.”

“I’m already in shape,” complained the young and foolish Larik, the boy attempting to erase the panting in his breathing. A smirk spread across his father’s lips. “Oh really? Then your exercises should be no problem. How about we increase that count to 100?” Before the boy could protest, his father continued. “You should always be prepared to give more. At any moment you should be able to give a pull-up or push-up upon instant demand. That is a skill anyone in shape who’s worth their salt should be able to accomplish.”

Scyphodeeiruus’ sneering words brought Larik back to reality. “What, no witty remark? No proclamation that striking you down will only make you stronger?” Larik’s lips spread and shut three times. The Zabrak couldn’t make out the mumbling, demanding Larik to repeat. Scyphodeeiruus’ leaned in slightly to hear better.

Larik repeated the two words. “No homo.” Larik’s good arm summoned his lightsaber. His lightsaber, feet away, shot into his hand. Larik lunged up with only his hips and back for support and raised his hand as fast as he could. He activated the blade when it was pointing at the only opening he could find: the area between the Zabrak’s legs where the Mandalorian iron could not be placed without hindering mobility, which the Scyphodeeiruus’ earlier acrobatics suggested was not something he desired. The beam tore through the armor and penetrated the Zabrak’s body. The beam disintegrated the Sith Lord’s internal organs.

Scyphodeeiruus collapsed on top of Larik. Larik coughed as his breath was suddenly forced out of his chest. Greedily sucking air back into his lungs, he used the Force to push the Sith Lord’s body off of him. The Rodian seemed to notice his superior’s demise and raised his blaster to avenge Scyphodeeiruus. However, the Rodian’s maneuver cost him his focus on Sionann. With Sionann’s blades locked with Ark’s, Techaro managed to decapitate the Rodian as Viole was occupied with a ranger’s blaster fire. The Rodian’s headless body cradled onto the ground. Just as Larik was about to thank Techaro, the lift doors opened. Larik could feel the Dark Side seething from the door. Two individuals walked out of the lift. One was a human whose power was similar to an acolyte’s level despite wearing an imperial lieutenant’s uniform. His companion was unmistakable. Larik had felt a strong presence, but had not expected the Illusionist to show up. It was Darth Somnus.

Scyphodeeiruus’s death and Geist Weiss’ arrival caused a few fighters to pause, to seep in all the stimuli as possible, as if a critical junction was about to be passed. One voice broke through the near-silence. “Everyone stop where they are! Move or he dies!” Larik’s eyes shifted toward the yacht. By the ramp stood Caden, his blade near Athin. The pilot’s stance was weak, as if concussed and disoriented. Larik found amusement that Caden had the balls to try to make demands of the Imperium, especially one of them being Darth Somnus. Larik’s plan had succeeded, to a point. He had expected a welcoming committee, albeit not as large. If the Jedi could force the Sith off the yacht long enough for Liile Glegor to get the yacht ready for lift-off, the Jedi and rebels could get back on board and fly off before a tractor beam could lock on to them.

Geist’s face let no emotion escape, nor did the Force betray his thoughts. No lightsaber in hand, Somnus raised a hand, as if to give the order to stop. However, in that moment, Larik realized their mistake. Geist’s hand was not a signal, but a command. A command of the Force. Athin was flung out of Caden’s grip and landed near the lieutenant. The lieutenant helped the pilot up.

“This charade has lasted long enough,” proclaimed Geist. “You can either surrender or you can be killed where you stand. You may be able to take out the Stormtroopers in this room, but there are hundreds aboard this vessel. You cannot take all of them out. Escape is a fool’s dream.”

No, thought Larik. We did not fight through hordes of zombies just to be captured here. Larik turned to face Techaro and Sionann, their lightsabers on guard for any sudden movements from Arkteleus and Viole, the Sith circling the Jedi like predators to prey. He didn’t know them well, but he would not let them suffer under the hands of the Sith. “May the Force be with you.” Opening himself to the Light Side of the Force, he let the power flow through his body. His body no longer felt as tired as it had.

Viole and Arkteleus were turning their heads to address the coalescing power when they were suddenly thrown once more, this time striking the wall. Techaro and Sionann seemed to instantly understand what they needed to do and immediately raced to the Nubian yacht. Xanthus Larik noticed was still trying to kill the Wookie named Rookwrr. The anger flowing through Xanthus indicated to the Jedi that he would not heed his last request. As such, he forced his resolve onto Xanthus. Picking up the rebel, he threw him into the yacht. Caden was shutting the ramp the moment Xanthus’ body entered the ship.

The lieutenant drew his lightsaber as Stormtroopers turned their attention to Larik and fired. Larik jumped into the air and landed in the middle of the huddling Stormtroopers, his feet knocking a Stormtrooper onto the ground. Larik’s lightsaber sliced through Stormtrooper armor, silencing three. He jabbed his blade into the fallen Stormtrooper’s chest before the two surviving Stormtroopers could turn their rifles and shoot at him. Larik’s blade deflected the bolts towards his enemies. One Stormtrooper fell. The lieutenant blocked the bolts aimed at him while no bolts struck Geist, as if they too afraid of the Dark Councilor to hit him.

The thrusters on the yacht became alive. Viole and Ark ran away from the thrusters, avoiding a cooked fate. The yacht lifted from the ground and shot out of the hangar. From their vantage, Larik and the Sith saw turbolaser fire shoot at the yacht, failing to hit a target. Geist waited patiently, as if expecting the vehicle to cease any moment. His anticipation was ruined when the K-type entered hyperspace. Geist immediately contacted the bridge. “Why did no own attempt to entrap it with a tractor beam?” A small squeaky voice sang from the communicator, reporting the tractor beams were too disarrayed from the disruptor field, the usage to herd the ship into the hanger in the first place draining any strength they had. A single tch escaping Geist’s lips, Geist turned his attention to Larik. The last Stormtrooper hadn’t fired yet, as if fearful his fire would be redirected into his face. The lieutenant’s blade was out, but the Sith kept their ground, awaiting Geist’s orders.

“Proud of yourself?” Geist taunted. “Your friends managed to escape. They have escaped the machinations once written on their timelines. Alas, you will not be sharing their fate. I can feel you losing stamina with each passing second. You were low when you attacked Scyphodeeiruus and you’ve been relying on the Force ever since.” Larik hated to admit that the Sith Lord was right, he was on reserves and they were quickly being depleted.

Geist, taking no step towards Larik, bombarded Larik’s mind with the Force. The Jedi attempted to resist, but could not hold off the single command rushing into his mind, breaking his mental bulwarks.

“Sleep.”

Darth Somnus strolled out of the med bay. As soon as he left the med bay, the doors sealed behind him. Quarantine measures were now in effect. Geist was not about to risk Clairvoyance to an outbreak of Phirisan disease. As such, the survivors would be isolated for the journey home. Athin, Rarda, Viole, and Ark were given a separate wing. Their prisoner was currently confined in the cargo bay, guarded by Rookwrr and Govan plus an entourage of Stormtroopers.

The High Arcanist entered the command bridge, Clairvoyance’s captain waiting inside. The bridge was more crowded than before, engineers hard at work. Despite a couple consoles in pieces as the wire guts were exposed, the captain assured the Illusionist that the engineers reported that they were ready to go. Shields and weapons were operating under agreeable standards and at least a dozen corridors were without power or air, isolated with blast doors.

The captain stared at the lonely egg called Dis. “What should we do about Dis? Should we contact Darth Vereor?” Almost instantly the captain realized he overstepped his boundaries. He had no authority to speak like that to a Sith Lord, an action generally met with fatal consequences. However, Geist was feeling good about the prize he had bagged and let it go unchecked.

“That won’t be necessary.” Though the captain didn’t have the security clearance, Geist knew Darth Vereor was busy at Reckoning. He would not take away the Dark Lord’s pleasure with a matter he could deal with personally. There was, after all, only one thing to do.

“Dis must be destroyed,” Geist declared. The captain and several crewmen stopped what they were doing as if trying to figure out if they heard right. Geist knew it was the only logical course of action. The Phirisan disease was a very luring weapon to add to the Imperium’s arsenal. However, Geist had used Blue Shadow to annihilate an Imperial Knights hideout years ago, dooming the planet of Cyrillia in the process. The Planet of Dis was already doomed, and he had no intention of allowing the galaxy to share its fate.

“Put some distance between us and Dis,” Geist ordered. A helmsman complied, the Star Destroyer making its way closer to Dinea. Geist closed his eye, forcing all distractions from him. Oral stimuli he pushed out of his mind. There was only himself and the Force. The pool was beauty eternal, whether the Light Side of the Force or the Dark Side. However, for what must be done, he had to pool from the source he always did: the Dark Side. Coalescing power into his control, he let the Force flow through him. He was a master of the Force, taming it to his will. The chaotic winds of the Force struggled to resist, but he tightened his fetters. He fed on the death and destruction that polluted Dis, empowering himself, strengthening himself. The Dark Side was flowing through him, sticking to his soul like the plague. He would use its power to accomplish its goals, but it would never leave him.

His will forged into new shapes. It grasped the one object that could sink the Phirisan disease forever. Geist would become a god of death and destroy the Planet of Dis. Using his extensive power to take hold off Erinyes itself, he unleashed his will upon it. Erinyes resisted, not easily spurred from its course. Dis’ gravity had been its siren, but held contempt on the new voice in the wheels of fate. Geist felt his energy draining exponentially. His illusions shattered, his armor visible. Headache was a warning sign that effects unseen were plaguing his body.

Geist recalled the famous Jedi stanza. Do or do not, there is no try. He would not try to destroy Dis. He would destroy Dis! With a sudden surge of power, Geist’s pushed the moon all at once. Erinyes had been creeping closer and closer towards Dis, and Geist had pushed it over the edge. The attraction turned fatal as the moon Erinyes began moving with visible speed.

The Illusionist collapsed onto his knees, no energy left. An officer managed to save Geist from a humiliating head plant into the tiled floor. Geist’s eyes struggled to look up to see the view adorned before them. As the Star Destroyer captain ordered shields to be raised, Geist saw Erinyes crash into the Planet of Dis. The two celestial bodies exploded into a majestic flow of fire and rock, death unleashing like a hurricane. Pieces of Erinyes and Dis were shot outwardly. A couple smaller pieces slammed across the Star Destroyer’s hull, shaking the ship to the core. Alarms blared from consoles, but the ship managed to survive the assault. As a large fragment hurled toward the Star Destroyer, the helmsman turned the ship hard to starboard, Clairvoyance narrowly avoiding destruction. The Star Destroyer was fortunate in that many pieces were ensnared by Dinea’s gravity, the moon becoming bombarded into glass. Geist could feel the moon Dinea breaking from the stress. It would not survive the ordeal, at least in one piece.

Geist’s voice was hoarse, his lips struggling to obey. “Get us out of here.” The captain didn’t need to be told twice. Calculations to enter hyperspace were being compiled as darkness consumed Geist Weiss.