The Battle of Coruscant -- The Galactic Congress Hall

[Jaqen H'ghar]

He saw some Imperial Troops come forward to cover the now revealed Sith scum. As they approached and began to open fire he quickly raised his free hand using Force Blind, a bright blast of the light side of the force, blinding to all in front of him sprung from his palm just as the Sith finished his introductions. Merlin threw his saber out with the force, slicing down two of the blinded troopers and as the silver blade returned he moved closing the gap once more on what he hoped was a startled at worst and a blinded at best Sith Lord.

Merlin had been studying the Sith for years, and as a seasoned Marshall of some thirty plus years knew better than to engage in conversation in the midst of battle. Instead he gave himself over to the flow of Vapaad as his blade slung out once more, this time striking downward, but again the lightsaber changed direction, like a record skipping it stopped just long enough for Merlin to go a foot farther left and forward, causing the angle of the blade to switch from a forward downward blow that might've cut the sith lord down the middle, to attacking his back at a downward angle that would slice through the middle of Weiss's back and end at his belly button should it connect.

 

[Dmitri]

Dialogue was useless in the duel, it appeared. Merlin ignored Geist and raised his hand that held his lightsaber. The Sith sensed the quick build-up in Merlin's hand as he raised his hand. Mentally cursing, Geist backed up and raised his hand to cover his eyes, which were closing themselves. His eyes succeeded in closing in time, but his arm was unable to shield the bright radiance. However, due to the black cloth that covered his eyes, some light was blocked. Nonetheless, it stuck his eyes a bit.

The Imperial Knight was proving himself an nuisance. He knew the man held skill, greater in swordsmanship than his own. Geist hypothesized he had greater reserves in the Force stamina-wise, but the lightsaber would prove to be a problem. Engaging direct, which the Imperial Knight demonstrated to be fond of, was not a good idea. As such, when Merlin approached the Sith, Geist unleashed the Force telekinetically again. This time more like two same polarized magnets being rejected against each other, two positive attractions rejecting each other. Though while the force applied on Merlin was brazen and forceful, Geist had his own more graceful, in which he'd be able to regain his composure and balance easily. During his transition in the air, Geist pulled out the sonic blaster he had his hand on, drawing it and fired simultaneously for as long as he could at Merlin, adjusting aim where needed, in order to attack Merlin, hopefully dissuading him from further attack. After all, sonic attacks weren't blocked by lightsabers. While he had hopes they would be able to damage Merlin, the illusionist held no delusion that victory would be possible, at least easily.

It was no longer a fight to obtain victory, it had transitioned, for Geist, an impromptu choreography of forcing Merlin to retreat or allow Geist the opportunity to flee. Geist didn't believe he would be penalized. After all, he wasn't a combatant. His task had been to infiltrate the compound and locate Bastele, capturing or neutralizing him if he could. As Geist regained his footing, he used the Force to toss a grenade from one of the fallen Stormtrooper's belts whose body stood around between Bastele and Merlin, granted with some distance. However, the Sith was ready for interference from Merlin. In fact, he expected it. Once Geist sensed interference from Merlin, he would telekinetically trigger the grenade before it could even alter course, detonating, hopefully the shockwave disrupting Merlin. Granted of course, Merlin could challenge the sonic blaster attacks, which the grenade could provide useful disruption to Merlin's flow in an attempt to avoid being shot. Geist only hoped his ploy would work. Beads of sweat were beginning to form. His stamina with the Force was good, but his physical exertion would complain after a while.

OOC: I took the liberty to assume the Stormtroopers were carrying grenades. If you want, I can remove it, but I thought it would be better if the grenade was placed further away from Merlin so that it wouldn't damage him (more likely disorient him), to allow more opportunities for either of our combatants for retreat. I'm guessing Merlin would prioritize the Chief of State's safety over capturing a Sith.

 

[Livgardist]

Gutterson pulled his head down low, gritting his teeth as he looked around. The Galactic Alliance was losing this battle. Screams, blaster fire, explosions - everything mingled and mixed into the crazed infernal chaos of war and misery. He fired off a couple of shots at some approaching stormtroopers. Two of them fell, the others went down moments later to find cover. The battle was lost, and it was time for Gutterson to begin to think about retreating. Unable to get a response on his question out of the Head of State, he made his decision; He needed to leave, before it was too late.

He suddenly noticed a man on the floor, a khil with what looked like several blaster burns in his robes, lying on his stomach on the ground. A twitch told him the man was still alive. He let his weapon fall onto its sling on his back as he moved up to, crouching, and carefully moved the man onto his back. The wounds were cauterized, so putting him on his back was not dangerous in terms of blood loss. He recognized the man then and there as Liile Glegor, the Foreign Relations Chairman of the Galactic Senate. No doubt an important man and one well worth rescuing, even if he could not rescue his intended target, the Chief of State.

"Lie still." He muttered, unsure if the man could even hear him. He seemed dead, or nearly dead - but Gutterson, knowledgeable in first aid and combat medical treatment, had faith he could bring him back to life. He opened his right leg pocket and pulled out equipment in the form of a medical kit, packaged in radiation sterilized vaccuum plastic, which he tore open with his teeth. As he did, he brought out not only bandages, but several so-called "auto-injectors", canyles designed for easy combat use. He frowned for a moment, thinking, before deciding on a course of action and getting to work.

He started by moving the man back on his stomach. He brought out his karambit, and without hesitation cut open the man's robes to expose the blaster wounds. Out of his pocket he took a roll of bacta coated bandaid tape. He tore off several pieces of the thick bandaid construction, and placed over each of the wounds. Bacta immediately began to filter into the man's blood, though only in small enough doses to begin to heal the physical wound itself. Gutterson rolled the man over on his back again. Then, he picked up two of the auto-injectors. Putting one in his teeth, he "uncorked" the other, by removing its orange plastic cover, revealing the yellow cylinder inside.

He took a deep breath before pressing it against the man's leg, the yellow plastic cylinder's end pushing hard against the man's leg. He removed a red plastic ring from the top, a "safety" that kept the needle from being released before its time. Then, he slammed the butt of the item, releasing the needle, which immediately shot a five cm injection needle straight into the senator's leg. Five cc's of purified kolto was shot into the man's alien bloodstream. Immediately it began to react with the body. The alien still remained unconscious though, and Gutterson took a deep breath as he picked up the other auto-injector, which had an angry red color to its plastic cover - a warning.

"This is going to hurt like nothing you've ever known, brother." He muttered in a low voice that almost was drowned out by the chaos around them.

He removed the plastic cover, and pressed the yellow, 10 cm long cylinder against the alien's thigh. Then he took a deep breath before removing the safety, and slamming the butt with the palm of his hand. A five cm long needle was once again shot into the alien's thigh. What came after was worse, though. An entire 10 cc's of purified adrenaline was shot into the man's bloodstream. He would experience pain beyond his wildest imaginations from it, when it shot through his veins like liquid fire, right through to his heart, where it would feel like somebody was tearing it apart with their bare hands. At least, that was the effect it had on humans. Gutterson knew little of how an alien responded to adrenaline - but he felt relatively certain that without it, the man would die or go into coma.

He gritted his teeth as he waited, hoped, for the man's awakening.

A blaster bolt whipped past his head. He pulled it down low, unholstered his slugthrower, spun around towards the target, and shot the man, an Imperial soldier, twice in the chest, followed by one shot to the head. He gritted his teeth. They needed to get out of there, or they'd get swarmed, and killed or captured. Neither of which was something he wanted.

"Shit..." He muttered. Looking back to the senator, he said in a low voice, and unusually compassionately: "Come on, you damn pencil-pusher...don't give up."

 

[Brandon Rhea]

“Grenade!”

Bastele didn’t know who shouted it. Maybe he did, he didn’t know. All he could remember was seeing the grenade flying towards him, from a direction he couldn’t recall, and watching as it exploded into a fireball right in front of his face. Someone jumped on top of him before the blast hit, but it wasn’t enough. The Chief could feel the fire licking at him, he could smell the scent of burnt skin as it started to peel off his face and body, and he could feel the blood oozing out of his sides.

He laid there on the ground, stunned, and as he did he looked at the doorway of the Congress building and saw something that told him what he already knew. He saw the end of the Alliance racing down from the sky.

(OOC note: Bastele continues in this thread).

-----------------------------​

A few minutes later...

Across all means of communication, be they nearby HoloNet screens, personal communication devices, military communication systems, and more, a small hologram of the injured Alliance Chief of State, Nathanaeu Bastele, appeared before everyone who could see it. His face was shredded, with one of his eyes practically hanging from the socket. His body was torn apart, with his insides visible. It was a gruesome sight, showing just how bad the battle was. If the Chief of State could be this hurt, anyone could. Anyone could be killed.

But he had a message to send, one more important than what happened to him. It was garbled, with the chaos of the battle and Sith jammers preventing it from fully being reached, but there was enough to understand what Bastele was saying:

“This is Nathanaeu Bastele. A Sith warship… descending… Jedi Temple. I don’t know… planning but... If you can hear… evacuate or head underground… all costs. Coruscant… gone. The Alliance is falling. Save yourselves and… Force… with you.”

With that, the transmission faded away. The end of the Alliance had come.

 

[TAC]

The Chief of State had long moved on from the now fallen Galactic Senator. The Khil man was no longer a factor, no longer a force that anyone considered on the battlefield- not that he had ever been a dangerous opponent, but he had at least been there. Now the crippled Senator was another casualty, not yet lifeless, but devoid of movement or threat. Forgotten in the chaos of destruction and the important events unfolding.

He was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Except.

Except.

When a man, with no sworn allegiance for the institution that Liile Glegor put his life on the line for, decided differently. When a man, and one that the Foreign Relations Committee Chairman had never before laid his eyes on, decided differently.

It wasn't a pleasant good morning. Not like a sunny day on Belnar, the sun peeking from behind it's millions of majestic buildings reach upwards to the sky. And certainly nothing like the warm plains where Glegor had grown up, the beautiful feeling of a pleasant fall day. Instead, as Liile Glegor again regained consciousness, he felt his blood boiling. The man felt his heart pumping so hard it might jump out of his chest, his brain threatening to melt. His mouth opened to scream, his back arching in pain, but no sound emitted from his mouth.

Around him, the battle had shifted away, explosions and violent fighting ensuing. Over the loudspeakers an oddly familiar voice spoke, but Liile heard nothing but the sound of his own heart, beating loudly in his head. Three words rang in his head, then. He wasn't sure if he read the man's lips, or if his hearing was coming back, but he heard them. Registered them. And he knew in that moment they would carry him through.

Don't.

Give.

Up.

Even in the face of impossible odds, and certain defeat, the Foreign Relations Committee Chairman- the Senator from Belnar- had never given up his hope. His dreams. He had never thrown the cards in and walked away. And whether he'd be damned if he started today. A loud gasp escaped from the Khil's body as his muscle suddenly relaxed, and he fell back onto the ground exhausted. His arm came up, latching onto that of the mercenary's. He managed a single nod to the man.

It was time to go.

 

[Livgardist]

Music

Things were coming to a head. The Alliance lines were collapsing, the Imperials pouring across the battlefield. To anyone who looked beyond their own line of fire, overlooked the entirety of the battle, it was obvious that they had lost. Perhaps it was just Gutterson, with the cold, calculating frame of mind of a hardened mercenary, that saw it. But they were losing, and they were losing badly. Then, a grenade exploded nearby. He felt shrapnel clink against his armor. And then, the man he had been sent there to rescue, began making a transmission, to all Alliance forces.

He was battered. He was bruised. Bloodied.

Beaten.

An eye hanging out of his socket. The man was a walking corpse, and Gutterson saw his mission turned into a disaster. The man admitted defeat, giving the orders that should have been given many weeks ago, the order to retreat. Go underground, go off-world...get away from the sinking ship that was Coruscant, before the Sith pulled everyone down and devoured them. The Alliance was falling. A cold hand grasped Gutterson's heart. Not just a hand of fear - he was above letting fear control him - but of anger - anger for the man to admit defeat, even in the very moment when it was imminent.

To admit the destruction of the nation that so many people had died to protect, and were dying right now to protect. Yanking that fading glimmer of hope out from right under their feet. They needed to live to fight another day - not be told to abandon all hope and flee.

Throughout the years Gutterson had fought, bled, and cried for the Alliance together with his fellow contractors, he had never doubted it, until today. He got a bitter taste in his mouth as he continued putting down suppressive fire on the advancing Imp forces, buying time. A feeling of disappointment in his stomach. He wanted to throw up and throw himself at the Chief of State to strangle him, all at the same time.

**** it.

Then, his eyes were drawn towards the senator that he had, only moments earlier, worked so hard to save. The one man, bloodied, and beaten, who as a final act of defiance, had shown signs of life even at the very brink of death. The man was spasmodically twitching, jerking in agonizing pain, trying to cry out where his lungs were paralyzed with the painful effects of the adrenaline injected into his bloodstream. He was alive. He was victorious, because he was alive.

**** it. There's still one good act left for this dog of war to do today, Gutterson thought to himself. He made his decision. From this day on, he was no longer an Alliance contractor. He was a soldier for hire. Not to the highest bidder. But to the worthiest cause. Whether it be the remnants of the Alliance, the lonely systems resisting the Imperial dominance, or anything in-between, he would be there, ready to fight their wars for them. If they were worthy. He would fight not for whom, but for what was right. And right now, his final mission on Coruscant was to save as many people as he could from the Imps.

One person first of all.

He reached out, and grabbed the senator's extended hand, pulling him on his feet with a strong arm, and placing the senator's own over his shoulders. He unholstered his gun. His voice was not his own - it seemed distant, foreign, when he shouted: "Anybody who wants to get off this planet, follow me! My ship is on the roof, ready for takeoff." He shot the Chief of State a single glance, and called out to him, uncertain if he would get through to him: "Come with me if you want to live! I am not waiting any longer. Now is your last chance to leave." Without waiting for a reply, he began to move towards the rear of their lines, and the stairs leading up. An explosion detonated close by, raining dust and debris over them. He ignored it.

He pressed a button to his communicator, and shouted into the microphone:
"Jeeves, you better get the ship ready for takeoff. We're coming in for a rushed extraction. And get the damn chaff system working, pronto! We're going to need it. We're definitely going to need it."

"As you wish, Master. Would you like me to prepare some t-..." Click.

"Take this, sir." Gutterson offered the senator his sidearm. "Shoot only when you're certain you can hit your target. Conserve your ammo. Leave the grunt work to me." He picked up a short blaster from a dead Alliance soldier. Normally he hated blasters, preferring to rely on slugthrowers - but this was no time to be picky. Do or die..., he reminded himself.

 

[Jaqen H'ghar]

He saw the grenades go by, heard them go off and the cries that followed signified they had hit the leader of the Alliance. He was a good man from what Merlin knew of him. In all the confusion that battle brought his senses the Force hadn't alerted him to the grenades past the fact that they were out of range to do any real harm to himself so long as he kept his charge and that was what he had done. He wasn't sure if Bastele would live, or if he was even still alive. In that moment he channeled all the chaos and confusion, all the emotions that were battling within him into one pure thought, into one fluid act. He would strike down the Sith that once more caused the galaxy such pain. He couldn't strike them all down, but Geist Weiss as he called himself was surely there.

He drew on all his strength and speed in the force, letting out a yell that could be heard over the din of battle and would crush any infront of him, including the sith unless he got out of the way. Indeed many were knocked back unconscious by the concussive force that followed.That Weiss might escape however wasn't an option in Merlins mind, fueled by the conflicting forces within him he did what Vapaad taught, master the chaos of battle within you to ride the storm and like a storm he moved quick as lightening, his blade swining down, moving so quickly in multiple strike patterns that to the casual onlooker he appeared to have multiple arms and blades. There was no quarter given in his attack, should one land his enemy would fall.

((after this post, my next one will be Merlin falling back and escaping as this thread is winding down but I wanted to give Weiss a chance to respond appropriately.))

 

[Dmitri]

Geist had miscalculated. He had expected the insurgent Imperial Knight to attempt to save the Chief of State. Instead, he had ignored the threat to the man's life and had let events carry out. The grenade detonated. From his angle and the smoke, Geist couldn't tell if Bastele was alive. He couldn't afford to siphon some of his senses to inspect, as he had a more pressing matter to deal with: the annoying Imperial Knight.

With his sonic blaster, he fired off a couple shots, but ceased and he realized the energy coalescing in Merlin. He had to get out of here. Out of her now! Geist yelled a command to a nearby Stormtrooper unit. "Kill the Imperial Knight!" While a couple Stormtroopers were occupied with attacking Alliance forces, shooting at Gutterson and company, five others turned their attention towards Merlin. However, before they could even fire, Geisted an attack forging in Merlin's attack. It was too late. The attack was coming. Not even taking time to warn the Stormtroopers, Geist knelt down slightly then unleashed a strong Force Push underneath himself, as if similar magnetic poles were rejecting each other. Just in time, too. Less than five seconds later, a Force Scream laid carnage to the battlefield. Most of the Stormtrooper squad he had requested assistance from were thrown away. He didn't know if they were dead or just unconscious. And frankly, in such a frenzied and panicked state, Geist didn't care. He only cared about getting out of here. He had done his job. He had infiltrated the Congress Hall and supplied intelligence to the Sith. He had confirmed Bastele's presence at the government sanctuary. His job was over. No point in staying.

As Geist began his descent, he cursed his situation. In his haste, he had dropped his sonic blaster, which could get past his defenses. And worse, Merlin was not relinquishing ground, unleashing techniques the blinded the eye visually of detecting which was the real attack. He was coming for the Sith. But the illusionist was no longer fighting. It was time for a tactical retreat, to escape the saber's swings. Just as Merlin had condensed energy for a powerful attack, so could Geist. The illusionist was famous for his complex and simple attacks, people believing he was dependent on them. Indeed, he had a tendency to overuse them. But that did not mean he neglected the basics. The first type of techniques taught to Padawans and acolytes.

Force Push. Before he even landed, the alchemist began coalescing his energy into a last stand. Then, he unleashed his energy outward, in a hemispherical fashion. The shockwave would not only hit Merlin as he approached, but those nearby such as Stormtroopers or Alliance soldiers. More importantly, it would strike the foundation of the building itself. Upon hitting the walls, cracks jettisoned. A pillar collapsed on a Sith acolyte. The room was likely doomed to destruction, though the power was not strong enough to bring down the rest of the building.

Those who were smart would aim to retreat as well. The integrity of the chamber was compromised. Through the confusion, as parts of the ceiling fell, Geist used his remaining energy to boost his run through Force Speed. Retreating with a Crusader named Barrel, they ran for the exit and, if allowed, out of the building. Stormtroopers, unprivileged to the Force, ran as fast as they could out of the pandemonium. Some unfortunately wouldn't make it, and Geist was partly saddened by that, but survival was overriding instincts and logic. He would survive. He had to survive.

As that chamber of the Galactic Congress Hall began to collapse, it mirrored symbolically what was happening across the planet, and soon the galaxy. The Galactic Alliance had collapsed. There may be survivors, but its strength and power had been broken. Now it was up to the New Sith Imperium to pick up the pieces. It was now up to the New Sith Imperium to establish Order.

 

[Jaqen H'ghar]

As the Sith leapt into the air Merlin's attacks went on against the oncoming imperials who fell like flies before a God. He could sense the fear in his enemy, and without realizing it had fed on it coming to the brink as he sliced through enemy after enemy attempting to fight his way to his target who was now making a calculated escape. The force push had slowed him, and with the din of battle all around he could not catch his enemy. When he sensed danger, this part of the building starting to take to much structural damage he considered charging in still. When he realized it would be suicide though, he stopped and began to back away defensively. If he followed it would be in pure revenge and wrath that was not focused on upholding the ideals of the empire but upon personal wrath. Dignity, not depravity. Duty, not dominion. The Knights code rang reproachfully in his mind. He had made an oath, indelibly linked himself to a higher purpose. The realization served as a reminder as to how the light could get lost amongst the dark. He had almost succomed to a darkness he had not realized had grown within him through all his sorrow and loss over these long years...now however was not the time to examine this as a stray bolt across his arm painfully reminded him of this fact.

He could not find Bastele, and was unsure of if the Chief of State had even survived. It was unfortunate, but many had given their lives. Unfortunate, but not unique. His mind refocused once more and a realization had hit him that he had a greater duty to survive, and he couldn't do that if he was here when this battle came to an end because they were not going to win. Using the remaining power he had gathered he cut his way through the field until he was at one of the doors leading further into the building. He couldn't stay here, but he would certainly find another way out, even if he had to cut his way out. Merlin too made his escape, and as he progressed further into the halls he realized there was more damage to him than he realized. His armor had protected him well, and kept him alive but it was clearly damaged and his muscles burned with the exhaustion that was taking its toll after such a long tumultuous battle. He channeled the force more, allowing him to move as quickly as one could under the given circumstances. Bodies littered many of the halls, and when he finally got down a few levels there was just silence punctuated by the occasional explosion and shaking from above.

After awhile, he found an elevator leading down to a docking bay for speeders, and climbed inside one. He checked the systems and made sure everything was running apropriately before activating it and easing out, quick as he could into the chaos that the speeder lanes had become with the evacuation.

(((aaaand exited the story, officially))

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Life itself was dying. Coruscant, in this moment, was the closest any mortal would ever come to understanding what it would be like if Death reached out its cold hands and reaped the Force, or God, or nature, or whatever it was that made the universe spin. On the surface, and even in orbit, every living thing felt the destructive power of what the two tiny figures atop the hull of a Star Destroyer were doing. Life was being drained, sucked into the blackened and decrepit soul of a curse called Skywalker.

Those adept in history might have drawn a comparison to the ancient Dark Lord of the Sith called Darth Nihilus, a devourer of worlds, and life, and all the energy around him. Like that Dark Lord of old, Andraste was a wound in the Force, craving all of its energy and devastating everything in her path. No being escaped feeling its impacts; they felt drained, weak, like even the simplest of tasks required strength of herculean proportions. Escaping Coruscant, or even hiding, would feel like an eternity.

The planet itself was breaking. As the Empress drained the life and energy from all around her, the Dark Lord Vereor was ravaging the surface. A storm of pure Force energy was growing; lightning, real lightning and not artificially created from satellites, struck down from the clouds from all directions, in all streets and crevasses in the city, tearing swaths through buildings and dirt. The energies even reached into space, tearing apart ships and disrupting systems on so many others. The wind howled all through the sky, and tornadoes formed to destroy the artificial world that they were touching down on.

The temperature was dropping. At once it felt sickeningly hot but also colder than the snowy wastes of Hoth. The rain falling from the sky froze, turning into shards of ice as it fell, stabbing through the heads and bodies of countless thousands, if not more. The carefully constructed weather of the once-great capital of the Republic and the Alliance was torn asunder. The planet itself was now just as much the enemy of the Alliance as the Sith.

Yet at the center of all this madness was something beautiful. At the Jedi Temple, above which the Imperial Star Destroyer sat, a beautiful aurora was forming. Dark and dangerous energy collided into a green display of dancing lights, one that could have been a calming sight were it not for the life being drained from everything below it. At the core of this beauty, though, was something rotten, for the light was not a mere byproduct of the attack. It was the attack itself. The dark energies and lightning being displayed was the eldritch energy sucked into the very heart of this labyrinth by the Dark Lord himself, a reflection of the souls being sacrificed for more power.

Anyone with any sort of psychic awareness, be they Jedi or anyone even remotely attuned to the Force, could feel as those souls were taken and twisted into a dark purpose for which the Force should never have been used. It was a warning, a reminder of what the Chief of State said across the HoloNet.

Leave or die.

 

[Kaeb]

Congress Hall
Before the storm...​

Slicing through the conflict that raged across the surface of the world, a few lights could be spied coming to a stop over a decimated structure still engulfed in scattered remnants of fierce battles, the lights had finally reached their final stop. Descending closer and closer towards the broken surface, the light of the rag tag rescue fleet's engines began to extinguish, as the ships themselves were consumed by the black smoke emanating from countless raging fires. The structure had suddenly become more visible, revealing the details of it's destruction, as countless cracks riddled through it's walls, surrounded by rubble and smoking debris. But like many structures that now lay in ruins on the surface of Coruscant, this was not simply another building, another bundle of concrete lost to war, this was a symbol of the Alliance. What that symbol represented was surely up for debate, as within it's halls it had contained the hopes and fears of an entire galaxy, but it had also displayed a clear penchant for bureaucracy and tyranny. Such was the nature of politics. Such was the burden contained within the halls of the Galactic Congress. But all of that had now been tarnished, replaced with chaos and death. Each and every ship of the fleet unhinged their docking clamps in unison, unleashing their enormous docking ramps on top of the rubble, casting up clouds of dust as they did so. Footsteps echoed down the ramps as hundreds of souls now saved from across the world now left the interior of the vessels responsible for their rescue, in order to rescue others who might need to be saved. The first boots on the ground belonged to the one who had engineered the operation, one whom had never truly embraced leadership before today.

Whisper winced watering eyes against the clouds of dust that enveloped them after their landing, and then began pressing forward into the back structure of Galactic Congress, with her companions behind her and her ships at the ready, she sought others who wished to survive the devastation. Broadcasting from her ship on all frequencies, that rescue had arrived.

 

[Livgardist]

Gutterson was starting to feel strange. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt cold, displaced. He shook his head to clear his mind, gritted his teeth as he pulled the senator with him onwards. An Imperial soldier showed up. Gutterson shot him twice, and moved past him before he had even fallen down. The lines had broken, and the Imps were now everywhere. Sweat was pouring down Gutterson's forehead. He felt feeble almost. Something strange was going on. He shook his head and threw a glance at the senator as they moved on.

"Hey! Stay awake!" He barked at the man. "We're almost there!"

They were in the back of the Congress building, and now the stairs leading up towards the roof were in sight. Gutterson breathed heavily as he dragged his comrade onward. Several more Imperials appeared. Gutterson fired off several blaster bolts, and they scattered and fell. He gritted his teeth. Then, a violent explosion shook in front of them, throwing both of them to the ground. The unsettling sound of rubble, stone, bricks falling, walls collapsing, reached their ears. Gutterson cried out in agony as a brick fell on his leg. He struggled to see through the gray mist of dust. As he struggled to get back on his feet, he realized with a cold feeling of horror that the stairs had collapsed, and on the floor above, a violent fire was raging.

"Shit..." He hissed. Moments later, he added in the communicator: "Change of plans, Jeeves. We won't be able to get to the ship. I need you to find me an alternate evacuation, and then get the hell out of here."

"As you wish, master. I'm receiving transmissions from a person claiming to evacuate civilians, due eat of your current position. I advise you to seek them out and inquire about transport off-world. Addendum; I am picking up strange readings related to midichlorian activity, possibly force usage of the Dark Side on an enormous, almost planetwide scale. It originates with the Imperial fleet, though I am unable to tell the nature or exact source of it, but I would advise hurry and caution."

"Wilco. Now get out of here. We'll rendezvous at the usual location when this is all over."

"As you wish, Master. Good luck."

Gutterson pulled the alien onto his shoulder again, and began to stumble outside through a hole in the eastern wall. He coughed, but focused and kept his blaster pistol ready. He heard screams, blaster fire and explosions behind him, but paid it no attention. The dust was tearing at his eyes. He had dark patches of sooth in his face, his usually blonde hair was caked a golden dirt brown of blood and dirt and sweat, his armor stained with the same. His legs were soft as gel from the strain on them, as every other muscle was.

Somebody appeared before him. He raised his blaster.
"Halt! Who goes there?" He asked, a low, bone-chilling voice, ready to blast the person at an instant.

"Hold your fire, please! We bring rescue!"

Gutterson tentatively lowered the blaster. As it turns out, the person was right. A large ship was waiting for refugees to take them off-world and away from the dangers of Coruscant. Seeing no other alternative to their own escape, Gutterson risked the unknown factor, and took the senator with him onboard the ship where they joined with others seeking to leave Coruscant before it fell. They were saved, but their Alliance was lost.

As they left the crumbling planet in the dust, Gutterson realized that on this day, everything had changed.

Everything.

 

[TAC]

The ship.

The edges around Senator Liile Glegor's vision blurred as Gutterson pulled him towards their escape. Around them, the world was crumbling, falling. The fall of the Galactic Alliance had come. They had put everything into this war, and every last bit into this last stand off here at Coruscant. There would be no more coordinated actions able to stand up to the Sith after this. What was the point then?

As they stumbled towards the last transport, though, Liile saw two children. One of them Rodian, the other Human, holding hands as they raced towards the transport. They were separated by the adults that had run ahead, indicating that their parents were among them and probably dead. But together these two beings raced together for this transport, as explosions erupted around them and bodies littered the landscape.

That connection.

That was what it was all about.

Senator Glegor pushed onward, with the support of the mercenary, as they boarded the ship a few dozen seconds later. The Senator lost consciousness, and was immediately brought to the on-board med center, placed among countless injured. When he woke they would be far away from Coruscant, and even farther away from the idea of the Galactic Alliance.