Versai Chronicles “Deception” - Chapter XIII – Attrition
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

    Corrie’s eyes gaze down from the catwalk, seeing her father just below her, trying not to make a move she glances over towards the opposite end of the room, where Cire has chosen to continue his assault on Val, both now locked in heated combat once more, Obi Wan’s blue lightsaber to razor sharp Sith Sword.

Val’s eyes narrow with renewed strength, knowing here and now with the room sectioned off it was indeed the final battle…no more games, no more halftimes, this time Cire wasn’t letting anything hold him back from fighting with everything he had. Val’s eyes focused as Cire lunged angrily with overzealous swings of his Sith Sword, each countered by Val’s swift moves of his blue saber, from left to right, forward, a spin, and a forward block in succession. Not wanting to overheat the use of his golden saber, now fighting with the blue blade. The paths of the two duelists seemed to play out history once again as both Cire and Val found their fighting spaces leading back up the menacing catwalk. More rickety this time with the heavy damage from the parameter blasters, now permanently offline thanks to Cire’s missing throne.

Cire didn’t speak as much as he used to, it was apparent that Val was being led into yet another scheme of his. As Val blocked another shot from Cire’s Sith Sword, Cire suddenly pulled back and waited for Val to swing at him. Finding this highly irregular, Val stopped his attack in mid movement, raising a curious eyebrow.

CIRE – Aww come on Val, take my head off! You don’t think I might be up to something do you?

VAL – (growls) NO MORE GAMES!

As Val fakes a swing towards Cire, he notices that Cire taps a button on his wrist device. Suddenly from Cire’s knees, six darts tear through the fabric of his pants so fast Val has no where to go. The darts pierce Val’s thighs with their razor sharp tips. Val’s eyes narrow a moment as his vision goes blurry. Cire then takes his time, kicking Val square in the groin.

CIRE – NOTHING LIKE A BLAST FROM THE PAST EH? YOUR TRIDENT LAUNCHERS PACK ONE HELL OF A KICK WOULDN’T YOU SAY!

Val’s vision fades in and out of focus as toxins in the darts start to fight with his immune system. Cire holds nothing back, taking his Sith Sword, slashing Val across his left thigh, leaving a deep gash that slices clean through the duelist suit. With Val dropped to one knee howling in pain, Cire capitalizes on the weakness, grabbing the Obi Wan’s lightsaber from Val’s hand, switching off the button. Before Val can clearly gauge what has gone on, Cire takes careful aim, then hurls Obi Wan’s second lightsaber towards the endless throne abyss. Out of Val’s force pulling range, he is forced to watch the symbol of one of the greatest Jedi Master’s ever to grace the universe, fade from view…out of touch and out of sight, hurling through the darkness below.

CIRE –  BINGO! ONE DOWN! ONE TO GO!

Val’s eyes still blurred in shock narrow towards Cire’s joker faced grin. For years Val has carried Obi Wan’s lightsaber around since acquiring it from the Death Star, with all of his might he guarded anyone from taking it away and now it seemed fate decided against his will to place its destiny upon a different road.

Val focuses all his frustration and strength into a fierce punch, screaming at the top of his lungs putting all he has into the force guided swing.

VAL – (swinging) SCREW YOU!

Val’s fist whips around, nailing Cire point blank into an uppercut. The impact sends Cire flying up then across the room. Cire hits the division shield and is bounced backward like a pinball machine into one of the support struts to the catwalk, timing his grip he grabs on to the last rail and pulls himself up and onto another catwalk to the far south of Val’s position. Val channels the force best he can to enhance his attributes of sight, as he rips out each dart from his thighs. I was a clever sense of irony that Val had used the very same device, “Trident” launchers when he was a bounty hunter many years ago. Ironic that the same tactic he used to gain the upper hand was not used against him in similar manner, although his darts didn’t have quite as potent a toxin.

With his distance gained, Cire moves to a panel along the wall, retrieving a small microphone like device, similar to Lando did in Cloud City. The device then sends a direct linkup to Draven’s ship.

CIRE – (voice alteration) Draven, have the fleets arrived?

Draven, sitting confidently in his chair smiles complacently gazing to the Liberation armada through a viewport, under the guise of his engaged clocking device. Hearing Quillion’s voice, he responds.

DRAVEN – Oh quite punctual too I might add. Yes I have the entire (yawns) fleet in my view, we’re awaiting your orders to obliterate them as instructed.

Cire glances over to a power level reader along the wall as well, having transferred control of his “surprise” from his defunct throne chair to anywhere in the room there is a console operational, giving the proper access code he continues his plan, talking to Draven while keeping a close eye on Val. Suddenly his wrist link begins to beep, as a larger, louder rush of air and grinding gears floods the room in audio from whatever it is above all their heads. Cire’s eyes gleaming with delight as he glances to the screen, displaying the Liberation armada.

CIRE – It is time, make sure everything is in place and do not fire until you get the…signal. Stay clear of its trajectory.

DRAVEN – (clasping his hands) Understood…what of Lance Jade’s flagship? May I destroy it?

CIRE – NO! I want him left somewhat alive until the final moment he sees he has failed…then destroy him and what’s left of his allies. Focus on the cumbersome ships first, if possible try not to completely blow them up…better to leave them adrift and useless and hopelessly lost when their life support systems fail.

DRAVEN – (slightly annoyed) Very well Lord Quillion, actually…I see another target that will suppress my hunger...a MC-90.

CIRE – Avoid the signal Draven I cannot stress that enough! I am currently in a meeting with Valaryc Versai…you might say we’ve just about ended our aggressive negotiations. The weapon will fire at random and give you plenty of help pruning those thorns until Kero arrives to clean up the trimmings.

DRAVEN – Why do we need Kero anyway, what is his purpose? I can take them out myself!

CIRE – Idiot! Have you not learned that in order for all this to function we need TEAMWORK! You alone can’t provide the backup providing anything should go wrong. They outnumber you greatly! We need reinforcements to ENSURE victory.

DRAVEN – Agreed. What am I supposed to do when Kero arrives?

CIRE – What else? Allow him to board and watch the fireworks. Both of you, I gather will remain cloaked while his forces and ours puts the final touches on the NR and VT’s defeat.

DRAVEN – Very well. Then I wait for the signal and unleash judgment day correct? What is the signal specifically?

CIRE – (grins) A very big flashlight.

Val closes his eyes a moment then opens them, trying to purge away the blurry effects of the toxin, using his mastery over the force he is able to begin fighting the venom as his immune system with the aid of the force begins to form blurry shapes into recognizable structures. Val’s eyes slowly beginning to refocus as he glares towards Cire, with his golden saber gone, he unclips his first lightsaber, extending the golden edge towards his prey, enraged at the loss of Obi Wan’s second lightsaber, an icon now well out of view.

VAL – (roaring) CIIIIRRRRRRRRREEEEEE!!!!

CIRE – I’m going to have to call you back Draven, business has picked up.

Cire pushes a button marked “engage” on the control panel along the wall as the sequence of lights has reached its maximum setting, the red leading to yellow, leading to green denoting whatever the surprise was it was now fully charged and operational.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – AIR CONDITIONING UNIT/PIPE MAZE

Meanwhile as the fleets await a break to the silence, and Val prepares to unleash his fury upon Cire, Corrie still evading her father’s detection the view shifts oddly enough to Obi Wan’s lightsaber. The weapon is now displayed rolling along the lower floor beneath the throne room, hitting a pipe hard that it has just enough momentum to fly further across the floor, gaining new speed as it approaches a open air duct, disappearing down the chute, where a rush of powerful gusts of wind hurl the unit through a labyrinth of interchanging pipe lanes, like a car streaking through traffic, to a destination only fate knows.

The weapon is flipped around several times as the view shows it passing by a corner, clanging hard off a corner, tossed down another dark series of pipes, all the while propelled by the rush of air flooding the slim tunnels, passing by various rooms, through the cooling units, as curious Killian Drones gaze upward seeing the weapon only briefly race by the ceiling ducts, hearing the clanging of steel meeting steel dwindle off into the distance and into silence.
 

EXTERIOR:  XYQUINE - THE KILLIAN CITADEL - ROOFTOP

Outside of all the chaos, as the thick purple clouds of Xyquine billow overhead, giving birth to a menacing lighting storm, the sounds from above the catwalks within grow steady now then very silent. Outside everything seems moody and cold but then there is a small flicker of light that builds on one of the three crystalline towers capping the Citadel. The roof of the Citadel itself contains ruby red crystalline shafts that extend from a two wells, baring a forty-five degree slope. Each of the crystals contains the same slope for good reason. The crimson brilliance building in intensity from the shorter, red crystalline structure soon reaches a blinding intensity as a beam of pure red energy jets across the roof, towards the adjacent crystal gem, both now building a equal amount of luminosity, until another fluctuating tentacle of energy jets skyward into the tallest of the three structures. Building a triangular formation of moving energy, now two lattice paths extend from both side structures. One beam connecting the two, the other beams joining the very top of the biggest crystal, where its brilliance overshadows both smaller crystals combined in its blinding buildup of power into one supreme beam of deadly force.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

Inside the throne room, the energy buildup overtakes any other sound in the room, even louder then Val’s humming yellow edge or Cire’s Sith Sword grinding into metal. Val cranes his eyes towards Cire as he grinds his saber edge into Cire’s weapon. Cire just laughs loudly, glaring to Val with a wider, more devilish grin.

VAL – WHAT HAVE YOU DONE CIRE!

CIRE – (grinning happily) I have given rebirth to the power of the past Val, in its dazzling red brilliance…watch your future end!

CORRIE – JINN HELP US ALL…HE DIDN’T!
 

EXTERIOR:  XYQUINE  – “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

As Cire completes his line, the buildup of energy suddenly rips through the atmosphere of Xyquine in a band of blazing red light, shearing through the gravitational pull, it is the signal Draven was instructed to wait for as Cire’s version of a Death Star superlaser, unleashes its red beamed furry on the nearest target, a formation of ISD’s instantly reduced to rubble in a menacing series of explosions as the energy beam instantly slams through their defenses with its pure broad range, engulfing the vessels in ruby oblivion.

Cire’s special surprise, the CrimsonEye superlaser had awoken.

LANCE – SHIELD UP NOW! OPEN FIRE!

No sooner does Lance give the order for the fleet to open fire on the four vacant Shadow Serpents do they see their green turbolasers pass through the vessels, as foreign projectors are revealed just under their bows projecting nothing more then holograms of the vessels.

LANCE – IT’S A TRICK!

Marc on Destiny’s Light is heard barking over the communication systems.

MARC – (com) ALL SHIPS ASSUME A CIRCULAR FIRING PATTERN! WE KNOW THESE BASTARDS ARE CLOAKED! LET’S DRAW THEM OUT! FULL SPREAD!

Carefully attuning their aim so they don’t wind up shooting at each other, each vessel fires a 180 spread of laser fire, hoping to hit something they cannot see as a few Shadow Serpents already moving too fast to track are momentarily revealed before they too open fire, in unison but Lance and Marc are not aware of the power The Killian have attained to fire while cloaked, as Draven aboard his ship watches in delight before joining the melee.
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – BRIDGE

Draven smiles as he watches the Liberation armada fire blindly, hoping to hit craft, too fast for them to keep a steady lock on. Many of the Killian ships take impacts but the turbolasers bounce off the Luxor armor as the Liberation armada’s own fire is meticulously aimed to bounce back, impacting the shields of their crafts, knowing in would be inevitable this would happen having prepared for the reverberation. What they are not prepared for is the Killian’s most secretive weapon, as special turrets begin to extend from the hulls of the Shadow Serpents still in cloak, the Liberation armada completely unaware until the first salvo of pink spheres is unleashed.

DRAVEN – We have the signal, fire at will! LET THEM TASTE OUR RAGE!

Draven’s mechanical eye gleams with a flicker of red, as he slides his mechanical left hand under his chin, feeling the Calypso rock from a few lucky shots by the Liberation armada. Useless as it is, Lance Jade soon realizes what advantages The Killian possess.

Pink spheres of energy from specially developed pulse cannons butcher various ships in the Liberation fleet like swiss cheese. The steady pulse of pink gives Lance and Marc something to aim at but by the time their flagships unleash a salvo of green fire, the Shadow Serpents already move out of detection, unleashing lines of pink sphere fury from every direction.
 

INTERIOR:  MC-90  – “DESTINY’S LIGHT” – BRIDGE

MARC – RELEASE THE FIGHTERS! WE’RE NOT LETTING THIS GUYS TAKE US DOWN WITHOUT ONE HELL OF A FIGHT!

Marc grabs on to a panel before him, as his ship is rocked by a flurry of pulse cannon fire. Crew members in the pits are thrown from their seats as the deadly energy balls pass right through Destiny’s Light’s shielding, as if it wasn’t even there, doing the same to various other ships in the fleet.

Five Carrack cruisers are viciously dissected as three Shadow Serpents train their aim on the hapless targets and open fire. Streams of TIES and “Wings” swarm from the underbellies of the Liberation fleet, buzzing like hornets as they add more “visual” detection fire that allows some of the fleet to begin to see the Shadow Serpents in flight, each impact of even a weakened laser bouncing off the Luxor Armor giving away the chameleon ripple off the elusive craft.

Marc then starts to wonder as another powerful blast takes out the propulsion of his vessel how the Shadow Serpents are so easily defeating the massive fleet numbers against them. As he is forced to watch the damage through a spark spewing screen, he starts working his fingers along a data pad, cycling through all known tech going back to the Old Republic days desperately searching for an answer.
 

EXTERIOR:  XYQUINE  – “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

Lance watches the fighters add more light to the enemy positions, programming each into his ships computer, unleashing hell from his SSD. He uses any form of ammo he can come up with and is delighted to see that a hail proton torpedoes find their mark, shattering the cloaking devices on three of the fifteen Shadow Serpents.

LANCE – Lock onto the source of the proton torpedo explosions and fire everything we got.

Lance’s SSD unleashes a menagerie of ammo upon the three Shadow Serpent vessels and they explode in a shower of blazing debries but as quickly as he takes pride in taking out three ships, he notices that the fighters are starting to dwindle in number as unidentified vessels pour from invisible doorways in space.

The vessels are known as “Specter” fighters, which contain smaller versions of the same shield penetrating pulse cannons. They are sleek, with wings that fan out to the left and right at slight angles. Their cockpits seat a single Killian Drone pilot. (Think Cyclonus design). Each of the formations start chasing down various TIES and WINGS of all kinds, spewing their shield penetrating energy balls, making short work of the fighter craft although some of the enemy vessels are taken down by TIE advances, Interceptors and other highly maneuverable craft. The balance of the battle seems to teeter from one side to the other, as Lance and Marc as well as Rear Admiral Kalin use the hunt down and destroy strategy to locate a few more Shadow Serpents, knocking out their ability to cloak, but still not able to do much damage to the energy retardant Luxor Armor.

Lance clenches his fist as he sees a Nebulon B frigate carved like a turkey in pink balls of hatred. Having to witness the carnage, he growls low in his throat knowing that if the battle continues in this stalemate the Killian will outlast the Liberation fleet’s resources pitted against the cloaking deceptiveness of The Killian’s fleet.
 

INTERIOR:  MC-90  – “DESTINY’S LIGHT” – BRIDGE

Marc is knocked out of his chair as another blast of enemy fire strafes along the surface of his MC-90. Ordering the deployment of cluster bomb pods to buy him some time as the Specter fighters pick away at the giant beast of a ship like annoying flies buzzing around a carcass.

Marc desperately hunts through the ships known weapon logs as he argues with a automated computer.

MARC – NO! I WANT TO SEE UNUSUAL TECHNICAL SOURCES! NOT OBVIOUS ONES! I WANT TO KNOW HOW IN THE HELL THEY ARE GETTING THROUGH OUR DEFENSES!

Marc cycles through Shi’do tech, on through Black Sun weapons and history profiles of the Suncrusher. Hitting a series of buttons he starts to browse back through the records of history to the Old Republic ships going back even deeper, looking up Sith cloaking technology on Darth Maul’s Sith Infiltrator, to the technical capabilities of the Trade Federation Droid Control ships.
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – BRIDGE

Draven watches the images and ships in his view screen whip by him as his own flagship weaves its way through decimated shells of vessels rendered powerless and lifeless by the power of The Killian’s special “rift” pulse cannons. Draven runs a finger down his chin, adjusting his ponytail as he stands with his legs slightly spread apart, shifting his balance to the movement of his vessel, beaming with pride as the Liberation armada is reduced to a smaller fleet, most of their ships reduced to hovering paperweights in a matter of minutes into the battle.

He then sights the prized possession in the fleet, spotting the Vindicator. Glancing to his men aboard he gestures with his finger towards the SSD outside his viewport.

DRAVEN – All craft, cripple Vindicator, then turn your attention to Destiny’s Light.

Having beamed these words over an open communication, it rings through every craft in the battle, as another powerful burst of crimson energy from Xyquine’s surface blast a group of 10 already lifeless Quasar attack destroyers to rubble.
 

INTERIOR:  “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

Lance watches people scatter around him in utter panic as a flurry of pulse cannon fire hammers into the broadside of his SSD. This followed by more and more patterned raids, strafing the surface of his massive command ship, again passing clean through the shielding of his ship. Lance begins to understand what is going on after his ship is rendered 50% useless, using the last of his power to run a fluctuating frequency on Vindicator’s shields. This proves only half successful as the pulse cannon blasts are so continuous even with a fluctuating signal, the shields have little time to adapt.
 

INTERIOR:  MC-90  – “DESTINY’S LIGHT” – BRIDGE

Marc hears Lance’s plan and does the same, shortly before half of the Killian invaders then turn their attention on Destiny’s Light. Having had more of a heads up, Marc is able to repel most of the incoming fire, launching all the fighters he has from the hanger bays, as he watches swarms and swarms of combined X, B, E, and Y-Wings join forces with TIEs. Several Shadow Serpent crafts begin to grow too overconfident and add more deadly power to their shield penetrating weapons by sacrificing the power to their cloaking devices allowing the fleet to freely lock on to their locations and fire. However with their supply of solid ammo depleted, the turbolasers, ion cannons, and batteries are useless and little by little the Liberation fleet is overtaken by the smaller Specter crafts and the remaining 12 Shadow Serpents.

Another beam from the CrimsonEye erupts from the crystalline towers into deepest space, reducing a formation of unstable VSDs to atoms. The unstable state of their cores causes the vessels to erupt in a blaze of hellfire, while most of the other ships do not explode but hover lifelessly, riddled with countless hull breaches. Bodies of VT and NR crew float deadly still in space, life support systems on many of the Liberation armada’s vessels rendered useless and with that death arrives.

Destiny’s Light takes heavy fire once again, as a salvo of pink light rips into its organic looking surface. Floor by floor, deck by deck people are tossed hard into walls as equipment bursts into flames, hurling deadly debris like shrapnel. Still Marc holds his composure, refusing to give up in battle trying to find the solution, as if Draven can read his thoughts suddenly his voice booms over the communication channel.

DRAVEN – Still looking for the origin to our technological advantage Admiral Jade? Let me tell you of irony, irony is using something bred for peace and using it for war. A concept used for defense using it for destruction. You will not find our weaponry in your Imperial, Black Sun, Republic, or even Sith manuals.

MARC – WHO ARE YOU! IDENTIFY YOURSELF!

DRAVEN – Greetings, I am Grand Admiral Draven Thross I represent The Killian Fleet, you are hopelessly outgunned, surrender or parish.

Marc thinks to himself, “You’re right Lance, it’s always the same motto.” Then slams his finger down on a counter signal and barks into the mic.

MARC – (com) SAVE YOUR BRAVADO THROSS! WE WILL NEVER SURRENDER!
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – BRIDGE

Draven slowly paces along the bridge to the Calypso, smiling with glee as he taunts Marc on Destiny’s Light. His body language displaying the highest of delight in the thrill of combat, having the distinct upper hand waiting for Kero Fear to arrive with the final coupe da grace, to drill the final nail in the New Republic and Versai Tech’s coffin.

DRAVEN – You leave me little option Admiral Jade. I wish I could be there to see your face when I tell you…our weaponry is based on…Jedi technology.

MARC & LANCE – (com) JEDI???

DRAVEN – Ah yes, in fact I believe he was the greatest of your race…Master Arca. Pure genius you know, it makes no difference to tell you this information, in your current state even Yoda could not save you now.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (RIGHT SIDE)

While the battle rages on in the deepest space. Returning to the right side of the divided Killian Throne Room, Val and Cire continue to duel, dragging their battle back up into the catwalks as they did before as Cire’s Sith Sword clashes with Val’s only weapon left, his luminex yellow lightsaber. Kor having worked his way along the accessible portions of the catwalk on the right side of the room, slowly creeps up on Corrie, who is transfixed on Cire and Val’s epic confrontation and the single panel nearest the dais that controls the divider shield, her goal is to either deal with her father or shut down the shield, whatever comes first.

Suddenly she hears footsteps closing in on her at a high rate, as Kor dashes towards Corrie, training his blaster on her back and firing. Corrie with the advantage of the force is able to shift her body away from the deadly fire just in time, though her arm does suffer a knick, leaving a burning mark on her left forearm. The pain is manageable as Corrie dashes along the catwalks, desperately looking for some form of weapon to use against her lunatic father.

KOR – (running and firing) I HAD SUCH HIGH HOPES FOR YOU CORRIE! YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN MY OFFER WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE! COME ON FACE YOUR DESTINY LIKE A MAN!

Corrie closes her eyes a moment hearing another voice entering her thoughts. Evading her father once more for the moment, her brown eyes peer through the darkness, falling upon the source. Propped up behind a pillar just barely in view, still significantly injured, but on one knee now is Terra, gazing right back at her communicating telepathically.

TERRA – (telepathic) Corrie, listen to me…that room over there, where the door has been blown off. Go to it, I’ll distract your father…there are weapons there, use my spare jumpsuit. HURRY!

Terra grabs a long cylinder pipe to her left, and then slowly she sneaks up behind Kor as he secures his aim on Corrie. Drawing all of her strength, she swings as hard as she can against Kor’s back thigh, causing his shot to miss as he pulls the trigger and topples downward off balance. The blaster bolt tears into the ceiling as Corrie does a forward flip off the top of the catwalk, landing on her feet like a panther. Spotting her target, she sends a swift roundhouse kick to Kor’s chin, whipping his body hard into one of the catwalk support struts, splitting his forehead wide open as his blaster skids along the floor. Terra shouts to Corrie to get moving, as she grabs the pipe, hurling the weapon hard against the back of Kor’s skull, temporarily knocking him unconscious.
 

INTERIOR THE KILLIAN THRONE ROOM – HIDDEN PASSAGE

With the force fueling her speed, Corrie dashes into the same alcove where Val stole Quillion’s duelist attire, but this time as she sees the cylinder cases her target is the outfit, Terra designed for herself.

Here is the specifics of the outfit Corrie sees before her…
 

THE BLASTER DAMPENING JUMPSUIT

Terra’s jumpsuit is colored a very deep brown so that it stands alone from every other Killian uniform in the ranks much like Anakin’s attire compared to the Jedi tunics. The shade of brown is similar to Qui Gon Jinn’s robe with a red “cat’s eye” insignia used by Crymson Vachon along the back, and also placed on the left breast. The fabric is a blast dampening material that can absorb a small amount of blaster bolt energy, until the area absorbing reaches a degree of heat that can no longer repel further energy introduced to it. The outfit appears fairly basic, but very imperial in its formalities. The main difference between an imperial outfit and Terra’s design is that the blast dampening fabric is one single jumpsuit, with a zipper and a series of Velcro straps that secure across and up the back. The fabric is also thermal controlled by wires embedded in a layer behind the blast dampening material which keeps the wearer cool or warm, depending on the environment.
 

THE BELT/HOLSTERS

I’m going to make this simple, “Lara Croft” in Tomb Raider about covers its design with Crymson’s “cat’s eye” in lue of the skull on the buckle, although there are currently no clips available to “side load”. With easy magnetically held holsters for the maximum amount of blaster draw, via a signal button pressed on the matching blasters. You might be wondering why Terra who is best with javelins would bother placing such detailed attention to blasters. With most of The Killian armed only with lightsabers or blasters, arming herself with her javelins and blasters lent Terra more options then a typical Killian Warrior. Although the belt is capable of stealth, it has not been completed yet and is therefore unavailable.
 

KILLIAN ARMS 434 “DEATHHAMMER” PISTOLS

These blasters are highly sought after Bounty Hunters in their “Merr-Sonn” form, and it is no surprise that Quillion pirated the specs on the design, making his own knock off “Killian Arms” version of the “DeathHammer” series. The blaster has a design similar to the blaster used by Han during ROTJ in the “skiff” scene, but has a substantially sized carbine chamber around the muzzle and a site to aim. The weapons are the same model issues to High Admiral Kor, but the power packs within the handles contain a BLUE strip.

Corrie wastes no time repeating the same process as Val, looking for the nearest computer console though much lighter then his rage filled moment, hurling the unit into the transparasteel glass already fractured from the explosion prior. The shards shower along the steel floor of the room, as Corrie glances behind her to make sure no one is looking, hoping Terra can hold off her father for just enough time as she removes the slave outfit from her body, little by little until she’s completely nude, grasping the brown jumpsuit, pulling it up around her using a reflective piece of sheet metal as a mirror, pulling up the zipper and placing the Velcro straps across her back. It is a tighter fit then she would like, causing her body to conform very lusciously to the taut brown material.

CORRIE – (speaking to herself) Oh yes Val would get a kick out of this thing, and its not going to help prove my father anymore wrong about drawing too provocatively. Oh well, no time for complaints.

She quickly grabs the belt, and wraps it around her hips, as she grabs the blasters and slides them into the custom fit holsters. She glances around for any other clips but all she can seem to find are the two fresh ones in the gun handles with blue strips.

CORRIE – (speaking to herself) Ugh must everything be a gamble! I just hope these guns haven’t been fired recently or this is going to be one short standoff.

CORRIE – Well Daddy, its time you learn that a woman can fight just as fierce as the boys can.

Glancing towards the exit to the room, she spots Val’s tattered, dissected sleeveless trench coat spread out on a table, what Val did not see laying just below it is another trench coat, this one was more ancient in his wardrobe, a replica of the one used back in his “hero” days. Figuring Val would gain some egotistical advantage with his signature attire, she grabs the coat then makes her way towards the exit, running one last check on her blasters, pulling back the safeties…ready for battle.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – AIR CONDITIONING UNIT/PIPE MAZE

Meanwhile as the fleets await a break to the silence, and Val prepares to unleash his fury upon Cire, Corrie still evading her father’s detection the view shifts oddly enough to Obi Wan’s lightsaber. The weapon is now displayed rolling along the lower floor beneath the throne room, hitting a pipe hard that it has just enough momentum to fly further across the floor, gaining new speed as it approaches a open air duct, disappearing down the chute, where a rush of powerful gusts of wind hurl the unit through a labyrinth of interchanging pipe lanes, like a car streaking through traffic, to a destination only fate knows.

The weapon is flipped around several times as the view shows it passing by a corner, clanging hard off a corner, tossed down another dark series of pipes, all the while propelled by the rush of air flooding the slim tunnels, passing by various rooms, through the cooling units, as curious Killian Drones gaze upward seeing the weapon only briefly race by the ceiling ducts, hearing the clanging of steel meeting steel dwindle off into the distance and into silence.
 

EXTERIOR: ALPHA XERIDIA – THE VERSAI MANSION – PLATFORM

With the intensity building, and the final pieces in Cire’s wicked board game almost in place, leaving the adrenaline rushed corridors of The Killian Citadel, and the heart pumping action of space, giving a momentary rest to the flooding of tensed emotions, the scene wipes slowly towards the more pleaseant landscape of Alpha Xeridia.

Having some time passed now, the Versai Mansion renovation has taken up speed greatly. Already the blaster riddled, carbon scored walls were filled in and painted over, hiding the image of the property having been drug through hell and back. Inside likewise, the droids had replaced the old scorched fabric curtains and cleared out the dead remains of fallen XIM droids. Lon Wol was now ready to get underway, with only the destination “Xyquine” etched in his mind. Through reviewing records captured by Val’s mansion security cameras he was able to watch most of the battle occur, from Crymson’s attacks, hurling Val through windows to Corrie and Isis fending off approaching battle droids.

Lon licked his lip silently as he watched Sacul approach from the east, his mind tentatively focused on leaving Alpha Xeridia and joining the fleet, to see what assistance he could lend to the rescue effort. With his X-Wing the Night Stalker equipped with highly efficient hyperdrive systems and brand new state of the art equipment, Lon was ready to depart. Sacul even found some pieces of Luxor Armor in the hanger bay, which was now grafted to the upper wing sections of Lon’s vessel as well as down the center of the ship, truly now it did appear no longer a beat up hand me down from the Rebel Alliance, it was in its own right Lon’s personal ship and would stand out from any other around it.

In addition to the upgrades, higher grade shields were also added to his X-Wing. For some strange reason, perhaps in a effort to cover all of his bases in combat, Val has set the shields to operate on a fluctuating frequency, which unknown to him or Lon, would now make The Killian’s “rift” pulse cannons useless against him.

Lon stands next to a ladder, leading down the side of his vehicle as he looks to Sacul approach. In Lon’s right hand is his helmet, his attention focused as one of his two lightsabers clangs against the rungs of the ladder.

SACUL – Are you sure you have to leave Master Wol? I was just starting to enjoy the company of a competent human, not these floating tin cans around here.

LON – (snickers) I thought you droids liked each other?

SACUL – Oh it’s all binary this and 001, 002 that, it gets so boring!

LON – (sighs) You know why I have to go Sacul. I have to do whatever I can for VT, I owe that and more for what Val has done for me. I want to make sure he comes back here personally.

SACUL – (nods) Well after my little incident with a SD-10 the size of a semi…you people can have your war. I’ll stick to dusting pictures!

Lon smiles softly, then begins to ascend the ladder, dropping it to the floor with a kick as he settles into the cockpit switching on various buttons which hum and beep in succession. The roar of the engines begins to get stronger, as they power up. Almost deafening stirring up the leaves and grass around them, Lon bides his final farewell to Sacul.

LON – I want you to take care of yourself Sacul, don’t go getting yourself suck behind any strange pillars again, ya hear me? And don’t stay in the pool too long, it makes your skin all wrinkly!

Lon of course was referring to the nutrient tank, and Sacul chuckled in response processing the “joke”. Even though Sacul had been fully restored physically, his memory was still trying to catch up with stored data from the past and at the same time process new memories. One was formed as Lon smiled to Sacul from his cockpit, as the raised trapezoid canopy began to lower.

SACUL – Good luck Master Wol! May Kenobie’s light guide you!

LON – (smirks) I don’t need no stinkin Force Master for direction.

Lon sticks his tongue out referring to Val’s strict guidance pulling him from the path of the dark side. As he gazes to Sacul one last time, his thoughts drift to his wife, Xola. He imagines she stands upon a balcony, her hair flowing in the wind as moonlight shines off her pink toned breasts, shielded by a sheer blue dress calling to the stars for her champion to return to her side. This is what Lon lived for; adventure, danger, and coming home to a goddess baring herself to him in his bed. Before he could enjoy the spoils of war however, he had a job to do. Flipping another switch, the canopy locked into place, his X-Wing ready for flight. Raising a thumbs up gesture to Sacul, Lon’s sleek black, gray, and red striped craft lifts off from the ground, spiraling trees around the exhausts roaring from the burning red-orange engines then veers off into the sky.

Sacul can see the afterburners like four stars stacked evenly slowly fade from sight into the distance as the Night Stalker disappears into space. Taking a deep breath and turning back to the mansion, Sacul stores the departing memory in his thoughts then paces back into the newly restored, highly polished dual doors of the mansion.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (RIGHT SIDE)

Lon departs towards the raging battle in space, as Val hears the CrimsonEye weapon discharge at random intervals, seeing the red beam flashing across the view screen of the battle waging in Xyquine’s atmosphere. His blood boils with anger, but he keeps it in check as he hopes to wear down Cire’s killing blows, slamming his Sith Sword into his shimmering golden edge, back and forth the two duelists continue to battle high in the catwalks in the background, but for the moment the scene focuses more on Terra glancing to the entrance to where Corrie resides.

Her eyes shift back towards Kor, suddenly she realizes Kor is no longer unconscious. Quickly, still healing from her injuries, no where near the force levels of Val or Crymson, she weaves her eyes left and right, then looks above her, limping with more strength along the floor, craning her head around a vacant pillar.

KOR – CORRIE NEVER TOLD ME SHE HAD A NEW PLAYMATE! COME ON OUT SUNSPOT BEFORE I BREAK YOUR FRIEND IN TWO!

All of a sudden she feels an arm wrap around her neck, cutting the air off to her windpipe as Kor grabs her from behind, attempting to strangle her. Terra gasps desperately, as Corrie detects her current crisis with the force, dashing down the hallway at breakneck speed. Still too far to come to Terra’s aid, Terra channels the force towards one of her javelins stuck in a piece of machinery, drawing the rod from the damaged metal, rolling the deadly stiletto across the floor. With a desperate slam back, she forces Kor’s body into the pillar, jamming his spine into the irregular support strut.

TERRA – BREAK THIS!

Grabbing the javelin in her hand, Terra slams the tip clean through Kor’s left leg, as he howls in agonizing pain, feeling the slender shaft passing clean through flesh and bone. Grasping his leg, he sends his knee into Terra’s ribs, with enough power to fracture them. Though Terra is able to absorb most of the impact, the wind is knocked out of her and she drops to her knees.

Kor hobbles his way back to his feet, leaning against the pillar behind him to support himself, his hand grabbing the other blaster in his right holster training the weapon towards the back of Terra’s head.

KOR – Courageous girl…but futile. I despise you force users.

TERRA – Why? Are you jealous that younger people like me can wipe the floor with senior citizens like you!

KOR – We’ll see who will be wiping your thoughts off the floor girl. Farewell!

Terra senses the danger, pulling a rod from the floor and ducks just in time as the rod’s length jerks Kor off center as he pulls the trigger missing his target. However as he prepares to fire another shot from his DeathHammer pistol, suddenly his eyes shift to two blaster bolts firing at his heel, barely missing their intended mark. Trailing his eyes towards the source he sees Corrie, dressed in her new catsuit attire brandishing two blasters in her hands, aiming towards his chest. This time Kor is the one diving for cover as he staggers to another pillar, Corrie’s blaster shots hot on his heels.

KOR – THE SUNSPOT HAS WEAPONS???

CORRIE – I TOLD YOU GRAND GEEZER KOR! DON’T CALL ME SUNSPOT!

Kor scowls in frustration, being bested by his own daughter. Waiting for the right opportunity, he spins along the floor in a roll, grabbing his other blaster using both to fire at Corrie, nailing her along the back but the special fabric of her outfit absorbs the shots and leaves her uninjured as he looks to his blasters in disbelief. Both father and daughter weave back and forth between pillars and busted equipment shells, blaster bolts flying in all directions, most missing Kor while some find their mark on Corrie showing experience does exceed youth, yet in the same manner Corrie’s wits to don Terra’s blaster dampening catsuit allows her to escape serious injury.

KOR – QUILLION YOUR GUNS ARE CRAP! THEY CAN’T HIT THE BROAD SIDE OF A RONTO!

Cire counters across the room through the divider shield as he directs Val’s saber into the railing, a rain of sparks showering the floor below on the right side of the room.

CIRE – THAT’S BECAUSE OF HER OUTFIT YOU DOLT!

Corrie leaps behind the right fire pit as the roaring fire shields her presence from Kor, his attention searching along the torched walls and back up towards the catwalk.

KOR – Corrie, come out, come out, where ever you are. You can’t resist forever.

CORRIE – (behind the pillar) I have no intentions of resisting you Father, I have intentions of ending you.

Kor paces around, listening to the origin of Corrie’s voice as he leaps around a corner, spotting her, missing his aim at her head from the strain to his pierced thigh. Corrie feels one of his shots tear through her shoulder, as her blaster resistant fabric reaches its limit in that area, this one the right seething her teeth together, forced to topple to the ground rolling away as Kor closes in on her.

KOR – Ah yes, so typical of you women…you always seem to slip and fall at the worst possible moment.

CORRIE – But you idiot villains leave yourself wide open when THEY ARE FULLY ARMED!

Corrie quickly pulls the triggers in both her blasters. Two shots burst from each blaster, finding their mark. The first shears through Kor’s left thigh, dropping him to the floor, the other grazes his cheek. Unfortunately for Corrie the two shots are the last left in both of the blue striped energy packs in her blasters.

KOR – (bursts into laughter) You were saying? Your outfit protects you daughter, but between your eyes, you’re mine!

CORRIE – BY ANAKIN’S SEVERED HAND! NO! NOT LIKE THIS!

Kor curls his lips in a malicious smile as he reaches for his blasters, bringing both up towards his daughter, his fingers twitching to pull back the triggers. Suddenly as he pulls the triggers back.

TERRA – (shouting)  HEY ADMIRAL! HEADS UP!

A giant computer monitor smacks Kor with a earth shattering CLANG! clean upside his head, knocking him out once more. Corrie gasps expecting the worst, and then slowly opens her eyes glancing to the monitor in disbelief.

Terra having moved her way to towards the dais stairs smiles back.

TERRA – (smirks) I think you’re starting to grow on me Miss Dublon.

Corrie smiles back, nodding her thanks as she looks to her father fallen before her feet, face first into the floor. A large gash raked across the back of his silver haired skull from the impact of the monitor, Terra hurled at him with the force.

TERRA – Quick get his guns away from him! He’s not going to be out of it forever.

Corrie glances towards her blasters, then looks towards her father’s. She then let’s a devious scheme develop in her head, shifting her gaze towards Terra beaming a wide brimmed smile.

CORRIE – No, I have a better idea.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

Glaring to the duel of blasters and wits on the right side of the throne room, Val glares towards Cire as another burst erupts from the top of the Citadel, destroying another salvo of ships in the raging ship battle above. His brown eyes narrow as he calls on the force to fuel his attributes of strength and speed. His gathered strength however is short lived as suddenly his eyes blur out of focus.

Cire glares, grinding his teeth together, taking the opportunity to uppercut Val’s jaw with the hilt of his sword, knocking Val back onto his back, as he spews a line of crimson into the air. Still seeing blurred shapes he can’t figure out why the poison induced into his system is reviving itself again. Then he sees the source. Just before the uppercut to his jaw, and his glance to the monitor, Cire shot another dose of the trident darts into his thighs.

Having pain centers triggering all over his body, Val was immune to the impact. Growling at the top of his lungs he tears each dart out of his thighs, glaring back to Cire through a blurry field of vision. Trying to depend on his Form B skills again, he is able to sense Cire’s incoming swipe towards his chest.

Using a mockery of Val’s signature kill move, Cire knocks Val’s saber blade into the air, then whips his Sith Sword across Val’s exposed midsection. Having been infected with new toxins to fight, Val is not able to pull away from the entire brunt of Cire’s swipe. A deep gash slices his midsection, through the battle suit but just enough not to be fatal, but painful nonetheless.

VAL – ARGGGHH!! HOW CAN YOU FIRE AGAIN??? THERE’S ONLY 6 SHOTS WITH THOSE THINGS!

CIRE – It’s a good thing I improved upon your first model Val. My Trident launchers can fire an extra load as you have just learned.

Having Val on the ropes, Cire seeks to repeat history going for Val’s golden saber, switching off the blade. However drawing all his concentration, Val grabs Cire’s hand holding the Sith Sword and tears it from his grasp. Both fighters appear to trade weapons, as Cire glances towards Val’s personal lightsaber in his hand. As Val becomes aware that he now holds Cire’s Sith Sword in his grasp.

VAL – ANYTHING YOU CAN DO CIRE! I WILL EXCEED!

Wasting no time before Cire can re-ignite his own weapon, Val evens the score with a quick swipe across Cire’s own midsection, the blade shearing through his prized silver dragon suit coat, leaving a line of red staining the shimmering dual dragons as Cire both reels back from the damage and feeds off the pain with the dark side.

CIRE – UGHHH!!! DAMN IT VAL, JUST DIE ALREADY! I’VE PUMPED YOU WITH ENOUGH TOXINS TO KILL A DEWBACK!

VAL – (struggling to keep his vision straight) IT’S CALLED CONDITIONING CIRE! MY BODY IS WISE TO YOUR TOXIN! YOU FORGET THAT I’VE ALREADY FELT IT BEFORE BACK ON TABANNOPLIS!

Val starts to regain his focus over his vision, as the force and his immune system fight off the second dose of venom. Cire gasps in shock as Val expertly wields his own Sith Sword more skillfully then his Form K tactics. With controlled grace, Val sends Cire running down the catwalk floor, just now entering Cire’s mind to do the same thing and turn Val’s weapon on himself, flicking the switch as the golden blade extends outward, both metal and energy clashing against one another as Val’s eyes stare into Cire’s teal blue orbs…Cire knows that Val is getting his second wind and in his current position, despite his deceptive attempts with his knee pads empty, he is once again no longer in power.
 

INTERIOR:  XYQUINE  – “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

While Val clashes with Cire on his own level, deep in the bowels of Xyquine, and Corrie hatches her own scheme to unleash on her unconscious father, back up in the heat of battle suddenly all firing of weapons from all ships have ceased.

Knowing that depleting their resources against ships too fast to track, the remaining 12 Killian Shadow Serpents evading anything thrown at them, and having already depleted their solid ammo, Marc and Lance trust in the force for a miracle. They stand on their demolished bridges gazing out their view ports as one Shadow Serpent, the lead one known as Calypso drops its cloak.

As sparks sputter from heavily damaged control panels and decimated monitors, both bridges are lit by emergency power, bathed in red. The CrimsonEye superlaser on Xyquine’s surface finally has exhausted its build up power supply, waiting like a snake as its generators slowly rebuild their charge, the red beams of energy passing between the crystals having been severed completely.

LANCE– (on a secure channel) Why isn’t he finishing us off? He knows he has us right where he wants us.

MARC – (com) I think he is either wondering the same thing…or waiting for something.

LANCE – (com) Waiting for what? Do you think he knows we can’t take him?

MARC – Well you predicted that he would introduce himself in typical villain form, so I’m going to predict that he is going to page us any minute, gloat about how intelligent he is on the battlefield then state the terms of our surrender, in which case we will tell him to go shove it up his tailpipe and go down fighting with everything we have.

LANCE – If it should come to that Admiral Marc Jade, it has been a honor serving with you.

MARC – (com) It has been an honor and a privilege to serve you Sir, never before have I had such pleasure in serving a President. Most of them are arrogant power hungry death sticks.
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – BRIDGE

No sooner do Lance and Marc exchange their formalities does Draven decide to open a channel to their flagships. Sitting within his Captain’s chair, he clasps his hands in front of him (Mr. Burns like) with a wicked grin upon his lips, the slight facial hair of his chin pressing into his gloved mechanical hand.

DRAVEN – (com) I can see you Lance…Can you see me? Of course you can. I have allowed you these precious minutes to breathe so I can explain to you exactly why I have beaten you. From my days in the New Republic, your faction Marc Jade, limited my genius. I was overlooked for promotion while drunken pirates like you “President” Lance Jade were given high ranks on a silver platter.

LANCE – (com) Spare me the superior warrior complex, if you’re going to shoot me then shoot me and be done with it.

DRAVEN – (com) Oh no, I’ve been instructed to spare your lives for the moment. I’m expecting company you see, in a few minutes time what is left of your pitiful rebellion will come to an end, and your presidency, your democracy, and your claim over the universe will be broken.

LANCE – (com) Waiting for who? If you’re so damned mentally gifted why do you bother depending on someone else to finish your battles? Let me guess…you weren’t an only child growing up were you Draven? I can see it clear as day…you’re the runt of the litter.

Draven’s face contorts to pure rage, straining the aged lines in his cheekbones as he holds his finger over the firing button to his ships weapons. Having to fight off the intense urge to destroy Lance aboard his drifting, smoldering SSD his finger literally shakes over the trigger as he yanks his hand back balling it into a fist, striking the first thing in his vision, one of the crew named Bedo Lies.

The female has no time to react as Draven’s gloved aggression instantly impacts her skull. With his blind anger, Draven succeeds in cracking the skull, and shattering the neck of his main gunner, as Bedo falls dead to the floor.

DRAVEN – (shouting as the other crew tremble) LAUNCH THAT USELESS CARCUSS OUT OF A MISSLE TUBE!

Suddenly, Draven’s anger is suppressed as another voice echoes over the communications channel. This one the voice of Kero Fear, unmistakable from its deep raspy mechanical tones which are deeper then even Vader’s voice, with a slight echo.

KERO – (com) Admiral Draven Thross, my Armageddon fleet is about to emerge from hyperspace, see that your remaining Shadow Serpents are cleared from the wreckage of the Liberation armada so I may have full access to their vulnerabilities.

Draven smiles in demented pleasure glaring to his other staff on the bridge, who react without a word spoken making preparations to alert all of the remaining Killian fleet to gather on one side of the area, leaving the disheveled Liberation fleet wide open to the east. As all of the Killian fleet gather in formations of four, dropping their cloaks. They wait patiently for Kero’s fleet to arrive.

The proud Admiral, consumed with his thrill of victory over his hated rivals, having given them payback for his harbored suffering sits in his chair, calmer then Bedo’s quick introduction and exit from scene. Keeping his eyes transfixed on a vacant field of shimmering stars, his sensors already pick up Kero’s arrival.
 

EXTERIOR: XYQUINE – SPACE – EASTERN BORDER

Suddenly arriving at their destination on time as scheduled, the first of a vast array of vessels emerges from hyperspace as Lance and Marc look on from their carbon scored command centers. A shiver runs up their spines at the sheer number of oddly constructed warships pouring into the battlefield with weapons armed and ready for battle.

Here is the tally of Kero’s Armageddon Fleet.

-Vengeance Class Super Star Destroyer “Nintura”
     20 Squadrons Panther attack fighters
-Interdictor Cruiser {x3}
     2 Squadrons TIE Defender
-Leviathan Battle Carrier {x6}
     6 Squadrons Panther attack fighters
     3 Squadrons TIE Defender
     3 Squadrons Scimitar Assault Bomber
-Nebula Battlecruiser {x5}
     6 Squadrons Panther attack fighters
-Quasar Fast Attack Destroyer {x20}
 

Although not as many ships as the Liberation armada, the deadly vessels emerge from the gates of oblivion, one after the other, some in delta formations. Lance and Marc gaze at the new arrivals, and exchange their com signals with their opinions on the matter.

LANCE – Those ships look really weird wouldn’t you say Marc? Look how cheaply lined their hulls are, I’ve never seen Luxor Armor placed on a vessel so mindlessly.

MARC – It doesn’t matter about how they put it on Lance, the fact that they have fresh vessels and we do not, makes a great difference. Although come to think of it if we pull our resources together, they don’t look so tough, I think we could take them.

Lance peers closer through the glass of his observation window, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard as another vessel emerges from the gate, this one dwarfing every other vessel in the Armageddon fleet. Lance’s finger barely able to remain balanced on the com button.

LANCE – Uh…Marc ol buddy? I think we could take down those but I doubt we have much of a prayer against THAT!

MARC –  Huh? HOLY….SHI….

Marc is at a loss for words as the flagship, exits, completing the fleet’s emergence. The sheer size of the Vengeance Class SSD “Nintura” is frightening, and the colors of the massive warship are not that of blues and grays, nor is it triangular in structure. The Nintura is 16,000 meters across, painted in red and shades of gray and white. Two huge prongs like massive incisors form its bow which jets out in an angular structure to form the sides. The vessel literally casts a shadow over the tiny ships surrounding, casting their appearance into silhouette, blocking the suns light from behind as the rays of yellow drawn along the surface of the goliath sided flagship gives it the appearance of it emerging from hellfire, like an total eclipse of the sun.

Lance and Marc drop their fingers off their channels and await the inevitable, as Kero begins to instruct Draven with more orders.

KERO – (com) Prepare for my arrival Draven, I am coming aboard via a heavily armed shuttle. Make sure your moronic crew understands this and makes the proper arrangements to receive my vessel. Once aboard we will witness the end of the Republic’s dream.

Draven cackles in agreement, transmitting his response as he turns towards his communications manager, barking at him to pass on the order to lower the hatch below the Calypso’s bow, to receive Kero’s shuttle already leaving a hanger bay somewhere within Nintura’s bays.

DRAVEN – (com) Lord Quillion will be delighted, Master Kero Fear.

KERO – (com) I’m counting on it.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

Cire glares towards Val as he deflects an on coming horizontal slash from Val and his acquired Sith Sword. Shifting his eyes towards the monitor, seeing the arrival of Kero’s fleet, Cire extends his hand out at just the right moment, engaging a force pull on the sword, as Val greedily hangs on to the handle and is tossed holding the weapon in a death grip right past Cire’s feet. Cire glances over to the right side of the room, seeing Corrie and Terra and Kor knocked out on the floor.

Using Val’s momentary distraction, Cire quickly dashes towards the far end of the catwalk, nearest the dais wall, to get a better look at the view screen, grinning broadly as he does what any villain in a position of power feels the need to do, flaunt it.

CIRE – (laughing) Oh no, whatever could that big group of ships be that just arrived out of no where Val? Gasp, could it be. reinforcements? Have I lost the war? No wait…that’s not in my script!

Cire fakes thumbing through an invisible book as he glares down at Kor on the other side of the room dividing shield.

CIRE – (shouting to Kor) KOR I DEMAND YOU GET UP AT ONCE! YOU HAVE A JOB TO FINISH!

Cire glances back towards Val who staggers back to his feet, his body feels like its been in a wreck, all of his pain centers trigger off at once with the force having to control the multiple bruises, gashes, and toxins flowing through his tattered body. Exhaustion begins to set in as Val breathes harder, even the best have to succumb to the limitations of a physical body. Val’s eyes struggled to remain focused as his vision blurred slightly in and out, the venom still pumping through his veins.

CIRE – LOOK AT IT VAL! LOOK AND WITNESS THE END OF YOUR LEGACY! EVERYTHING YOU HAVE FOUGHT FOR IS ABOUT TO BE TAKEN AWAY!

VAL – (narrowing his eyes to slits) I’m used to it…but I sense…

CIRE – YOU SENSE WHAT?

Val suddenly reaches out with the force, sensing something else in the air, turning his eyes back towards the fleet monitor, a grin spreading across his lips. Cire looks bewildered as he sees Val’s eyes slowly close leaving himself wide open knowing Cire won’t attack, his ego wanting to look directly into his eyes before delivering any final blows…it is during this silence, Val reaches out with the force to Lance Jade aboard the tattered Vindicator.

He only tells Lance one line of communication.

VAL – (telepathic) We will prevail…trust in those words.

Lance’s eyes flash open in utter surprise, hearing Val’s smoothly transmitted words. His heart skipping a beat hearing Val speak for the first time since his conversation in the mansion. Playing the words over and over again in his head, he closes his eyes and returns the message.

LANCE – (telepathic) Aye Aye, Mr. President.

Val’s eyes return to the present, seeing Cire’s eyebrows raised in a bewildered look. Slowly forming his signature smirk, Val capitalizes on the vacant expression, giving Cire a swift kick in the groin, sending him buckling to his knees. Although Val could take advantage of the moment, he directs his attention elsewhere.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (RIGHT SIDE)

 Val’s attention focused between the massive view screen above the throne room, and the opposite side of the room where the division shield still keeps for the most part the women separated from the men. His eyes blur a bit as he makes out Corrie and Kor. The Admiral now begins to stir, finding his position next to a window, gazing about hazy as he sees Corrie coming to stand up before him, both blasters held in her hands trained on him.

Kor shifts his eyes downward seeing his own twin blasters at his feet. His thigh aches intensely from Terra’s javelin piercing it previously, and he can see the dried blood crusted along his hands from his forehead and the back of his skull. Fearing it might be the end, he staggers boldly to his feet, using the window behind him as leverage.

Corrie strides closer to Kor, both DeathHammer blasters held firmly in her hands as she begins to pull back the hammer, apparently unaware that last time she pulled the triggers, the blasters were depleted. Suddenly as if struck by intense pain herself, she stumbles to one knee, grabbing her shoulder and side as Kor’s eyes widen with delight towards her suffering.

KOR – See I told you Sunspot…you could never equal the power and genius of a man, you don’t have the testicular fortitude for it…which is why for eternity, we will always rule over you.

Corrie bites back another shudder of pain as she sees Kor fully standing now, although not moving much, raising his recaptured blasters towards her body. Perhaps it is a bittersweet ending to a long, drawn out duel between father and daughter, but Corrie suddenly begins to smile broadly, quickly standing to her feet with no pain at all. Is it some sort of miracle or something more?

CORRIE – You men are so gullible. All the same, confusing your abilities with the size of your gun, be it between your legs or in your incapable hands.

KOR – Maybe so daughter dearest, but I have the blasters pointed right where I want them. This is your final curtain call!

From the back of the two, Terra’s laughter can be heard echoing through the right side of the throne room as she watches Corrie and Kor standing off. She barely had time to contain herself as she speaks to Corrie.

TERRA – (cracking up) You were right Corrie! He truly has no clue!

Kor shifts his eyebrow towards Terra’s outburst, and then glances down to his blasters. They seemed to be in order so he had no reasonable idea why Terra would be laughing at her friend’s impending doom. It is only then when he hears the whine of charging batteries originate from CORRIE’s blasters and not his own that he begins to realize the big punchline. Gazing back down to his blasters, flipping up the hilts to check the power packs his eyes flash open as wide as a set of ceramic dinner plates.

The stripes along his blaster packs are BLUE.

Realizing that Corrie has HIS blasters which are still loaded, while he has Corrie’s blasters which have nothing left in them, he tries one last tactic in his desperation to survive.

KOR – Corrie…sweetie…You wouldn’t shoot old Dad would you?

Corrie’s eyes narrow into an icy, cold hearted stare as she raises her blasters back up towards her father’s blood stained body. Taking a deep breath she looks deep into Kor’s eyes, standing fully before him as the charge meter along her blasters reaches full capacity.

CORRIE – Daddy Dearest, you have no idea…

The scene seems to move in slow motion as Corrie’s fingers pull the triggers to her father’s own blasters. In a hail of red gunfire, shots slam through every portion of Kor’s suit, shearing through flesh, bone, and vital organs as his body recoils with each bolt’s thunderous impact. The sound of the blasters passing through his form are so loud, it catches not only Val’s attention but also Cire’s clear across the room as he looks to the scene in utter panic.

Kor’s body is dead before it even has a chance to hit the ground, but it doesn’t even make it that far. Corrie’s justified blaster fire shatters the window behind Kor, repelling his heavy corpse through it, sending his remains rebounding off the side of the exterior of The Killian Citadel, off one of its support struts, bouncing off lights and other portions of the smooth Luxor Armored plates, until his body disappears from view, fading off towards the surface in the darkness of trees and unforgiving rocks below.

Slowly but surely everything that Cire had placed his faith within was falling to pieces. He scowled in horror, as he watched Corrie turn the remainder of her dual blasters on the control panel to the room division shield. Opening a full hail of red fury, she decimated the panel in seconds and with the main control unit offline, the parameter shield dividing the left and right side of the throne room was dropped.

Craning her gaze upward towards Cire, she starts to walk her way across the onyx floor after holstering one of her blasters, holding a familiar object in her hand. Cire lost in the blazing turn of events, feels Val hurl the blunt end of his Sith Sword to the back of his skull, knocking him forward as he struggles to maintain his grip over Val’s golden yellow lightsaber.

Taking a moment of rest, as painful as it cost him, Cire divided his attention between Corrie’s approach, and the giant view screen of the fleet battle above. At least he still had one trick up his sleeve and in a matter of moments Val’s Versai Tech rescue effort would be brought to a crushing end.
 

EXTERIOR: XYQUINE – SPACE – EASTERN BORDER

As Val gives Lance reassurance, and watches below Kero Fear’s heavily armed TIE Gunboat Shuttle begins to come into view, its ion blue engines hovering the triangular winged shaped vessel towards the Calypso. Draven stands up from his chair on his flagship, standing in a imperial fashion with one hand draped over the other behind his back, awaiting his ally’s final approach.

Kero’s shuttle slowly looms ever closer to the Killian armada as ships in the Armageddon fleet shift position, moving into the battle field, closer to the Liberation fleet. Over and over the words play in Lance’s head “trust in those words”. Keeping his hand free of any last ditch strike against the approaching ships, Lance awaits fate’s hand.

Kero stands firmly in place, clothed in his Royal Guard robes, the hood drawn up over his head as he instructs his pilots to open a visual channel to The Calypso.