The Fog of War/Part 21

The back wall of the assembly room was on fire, and the smoke that made a black pillow on the ceiling was starting to descend to ground. The fire suppression system sputtered chemicals, but the spray was erratic; a whole bank of desks was thoroughly soaked, but the rest of the room was barely sprinkled, and the blaze showed no signs of slowing down. Tirien remembered ripping apart pipes to delay Alecto and wondered if he had only postponed his own death.

He saw figures on the dais, silhouetted against the flames, but between the door and dais, Mali Darakhan fought Darth Vandak alone. Even against impossible odds his courage did not fail him; he stood toe to toe with the Anzat, his beard shiny with sweat and his hair limp, blue blade flashing against Vandak's red ones. His tunic was scorched at his left shoulder, and Tirien felt his weariness in the Force.

There was a feral hiss from Tirien's side, and another Anzat staggered toward him, a vibrosword in hand. Aldayr had obviously wounded him, but his blade was edged with crimson too, and his eyes showed he had lost none of his malice.

Tirien did not hesitate. With one hand he pinned the Anzat to the wall with the Force, and with another he tore the leg off a chair and sent it spinning through the air, snapped end first. It nailed the Anzat to the wall through the center of the chest, and the assassin gasped once, blood overflowing his lips, before he died.

Tirien charged down the center aisle, his body at war with itself as he shied away from taking a deep breath of smoke-tinged air at the same time his lungs demanded one. Alecto was much more skillful than he remembered, and he had expended considerable effort to force her into a stalemate. It sounded like Mali and Aldayr had tangled with Darth Kra'all, though Tirien did not sense the Togorian's presence. Vandak, however, seemed perfectly at ease and well-rested; even as Tirien watched he saw the Anzat graze Mali's abdomen with one blade.

Sucking in a breath and coughing in the back of his throat, Tirien drew his lightsaber and sprang forward, intercepting Vandak's follow-up strike. The Sith Lord did not retreat or even pause to re-assess; he seemed able to wield his two blades independently of one another, the dark side guiding his every move toward fatality, and he grinned as he fought.

Tirien and Mali struck Vandak's blades wide and kicked him in unison. It was like kicking a power droid, and though the Anzat staggered back a step, his smile never wavered. "Kadych, Darakhan, and Kal-Di? A feast to be remembered.  Soup's on, boys."

"Hope you like it hot," Mali managed to retort, though in the brief reprieve his off hand went to his stomach. He gestured with his chin toward the flames. "Better pick up the pace or all you'll have is roast Jedi."

"As you wish," Vandak said, then charged.

Well-versed in fighting one-handed himself, Tirien knew every advantage and limitation of the style. Speed and dexterity were the primary advantages of Makashi, but they were peripheral at best to Vandak's savage, cleaving Form V style. Form V needed strength, and one hand was never as powerful as two.

After three volleys of stab, slash, parry, and riposte, Tirien never wanted to face Vandak using one blade in both his hands. Tirien dared not block straight on; he feared Vandak would force his own blade back into him. And Mali—taller than Vandak, powerfully built, and a Form V expert himself—battered away at Vandak's other side, but the Anzat met his two-handed blows with a single blade. At times, when he jabbed at Tirien's heart or slashed at his neck, Vandak didn't even bother looking at Mali while he fought.

Tirien reached for the Force, trying to let the light guide him and bolster him in his weariness, but even Force valor could only push the physical vessel so far. He was exhausted from fighting Alecto, it was becoming harder to breathe clearly, and Vandak had the Force too.

Tirien tried a new strategy, taking little shots at Vandak's wrists and forearms, his ribs and thighs, hoping a hundred shiims could do what a single killing shiak could not. But Vandak only parried him all the easier. He knocked Tirien's stab at his knuckles aside, kicked Mali over a desk without looking, and charged Tirien with both blades. Tirien's retreat became a rout as he parried madly, trying desperately to slow the unstoppable scarlet haze of death. He felt pain in his thigh he couldn't even match to a swing.

Reaching out with the Force, he threw two chairs at Vandak, one after another. The Anzat whirled gracefully into a strike that chopped the first in half, stabbed over his head to stop Tirien's assault on his back, then completed his spin into a two-bladed swing that carved the second chair to scraps of leather and wood. He did not stop to savor his own skill, but slashed at Tirien with both blades; the spreading flames threw his hellish face into stark relief, and Tirien hurled himself back from the attack, gasping as he came down on his wounded leg.

"Vandak, finish them, quickly!" called a voice from the dais; the Force had to amplify it over the roaring fire.

Vandak charged, but Mali emerged from the row of desks, blood on his face but resolve in his eyes. He caught the Anzat from the side, and when Vandak turned to meet the attack, Tirien attacked from the other side. If they could keep him between them…but Vandak was much too smart for that, and he retreated just enough to put the two Jedi before him, then met their double attack without giving a centimeter.

Across the room, part of the wall started to splinter, a piece dropping off and landing to set the carpet ablaze. In the small corner of his mind not occupied with Vandak, Tirien realized he would likely die in this room. He hoped Slejux would take care of Narasi.

Mali took one step back, rallying himself for what Tirien sensed was his last assault; as Vandak pursued, Mali threw himself forward in a ruthless, brutal barrage of strikes. Vandak met the first few, fending off Tirien with his other hand, but eventually started to shunt Mali's strikes sideways rather than meeting them directly. He pulled his lips back from his teeth; Mali was hemorrhaging energy, but Vandak had to brace himself. He lifted his index and middle fingers from his other blade, and the Force pushed Tirien back. As Vandak swung his second blade for the kill, Tirien hurled himself forward in a desperate stab at the Anzat's head.

He was too far away; even with his elbow locked he lacked the depth or the strength, and Vandak swatted the lunge with his blade. It merely nicked his cheek…but suddenly Vandak screamed, a roar of fury and anguish that exploded into the Force and blew both Jedi off their feet. Tirien landed on a desk three meters away, sitting up with a blank look. His blow had opened a wound in the Anzat's cheek, but it looked superficial; a strip of flesh hung loose beside his nose, but Vandak deactivated one blade and frantically patted the wound, digging into the flesh, his eyes wide with fear.

Then they turned to Tirien, and fear became rage.

There was no time to think; there was time for nothing but blocking, two-handed blocks that felt like fighting a Wookiee hand-to-hand. The Anzat savaged his defense with blow after blow, both blades alive again, his face twisted with hate and past reason. His eyes burned yellow and red, and Tirien felt singes on both his arms, a burn on his neck, heat across his middle. His arms trembled and started to buckle.

Mali came at him from the other side, panting and coughing. Vandak barely acknowledged him, and actually took a wound in his side before he bothered to pay attention at all. He slashed back at Mali without looking, screaming wordlessly, slashing at Tirien with his other hand and stalking Tirien down as the Pantoran stumbled over the steps, trying to get away. His strength was unreal, but his rage cost him his peerless skill, and Mali slipped under one of his blind backhand slashes. He raked the other side of Vandak's face with the edge of his blade, shaving off flesh and part of Vandak's ear.

Vandak shrieked, and the Force followed his slashing blades as he dragged a Force blow across the room. Tirien flew across the aisle into a desk so hard he felt his ribs crack, and Mali went up halfway toward the ceiling before he landed hard on a desktop nearby. Vandak threw down his lightsabers and patted his face, fingers blackening as he dug into his singed flesh. Struggling to stand, holding his lightsaber in a shaking hand, Tirien watched as the Anzat, barely wounded, screamed in horror and agony.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" he roared, and the dark side roared with him. Tirien choked, his insides aching as the darkness washed over him, and the ceiling above started to come down. Insanity warped Vandak's features, and he lifted Tirien and Mali with the Force before slamming them to the ground. Tirien screamed as the ends of his broken ribs pressed against his organs, and Mali coughed blood beside him.

Vandak thrust out his hands, and his lightsabers flipped up into his grip. Tirien and Mali caught one another's forearms, thoughts flowing between them as Vandak called forth his paired blades and leapt, bringing them down to impale the Jedi. As one the two Knights thrust out their hands, and the Force caught Vandak defenseless in midair. He flew backwards, rocketing across the chamber and crashing through the Great Seal of Milagro. Half the wall behind the dais caved in, and a chunk of ceiling split the dais in half.

"Mali!" Tirien coughed; he tasted blood on his lips too. "Mali, we have to go!"

"Kadych!" Mali wheezed.

They staggered toward the dais, limping and bleeding, lightsabers deactivated in their hands. Tirien found his eyes drawn up to an observers' gallery; through the smoke he saw another Anzat, dressed in red and studying the scene with an impassive face. Tirien hoped they wouldn't have to fight him, too, but the man simply turned and walked out the back door of the gallery. He passed two figures on the way; neither tried to stop him, but both leapt to the dais admist the flames, and Tirien recognized Darth Alecto and Zeff.

Please no, he implored of the Force. Even together, he and Mali were in no condition to fight Alecto. As they mounted the dais she saw them, and fury twisted her face.

"Alecto!" called the same voice that had urged Vandak on, barely audible now over the roaring flames. Tirien saw a scarred Human beside Sil Kadych's prone form, and the corpse of a Falleen that had to be Darth Vaszas.

Tirien, Mali, and Alecto advanced at the same time. The Human Sith seemed to sense their intent, because he pulled a lightsaber from his belt and cut at Kadych's body; Tirien tugged him across the stage with the Force just in time. The Umbaran's limp form bumped up against their feet, and Mali struggled to sling him across his shoulders, knees trembling. Alecto put herself between the Human and Tirien, and they stared at one another for a moment until the heat started to crisp their hair and the smoke thickened.

Then Alecto turned away, Zeff covering her back as she draped the Human's arm over her shoulders. Tirien pulled Mali away, working up a limping trot toward the main door. Debris rained freely, turning the aisle into an obstacle course of flame; Tirien raised shaking hands to intercept a girder falling for them, and a shower of sparks actually singed his neck and Kadych's body before he finally got it to a full stop.

The hall was deserted; fire alarms blared throughout the building. Tirien looked down the staircase toward the front hall, wondering at the carnage. He had just pulled the comlink from his belt when it came to life and Narasi's voice called, "Master!"

"Narasi, where are you?"

"Get to the roof!"

"The roof?" he asked blankly. "But the front exit—"

"Trust me, Master!"

Tirien nodded. "Roof. On our way."

He took hold of Mali's uninjured shoulder, partly because the Corellian was blinking and coughing and couldn't see where he was going, but mostly because he was afraid Mali would fall. He dragged Mali over to the turbolift and hammered the call button.

Mali heard it beep. "Aren't…aren't you…" He coughed, hard and hacking, and sank to one knee. Gasping for air, he managed to wheeze, "Aren't you not…supposed to turbolift…in a fire?"

Tirien coughed too. "It's that or the stairs."

"…turbolift it is, then."

Tirien managed a chuckle, and even that doubled him over coughing. When the lift arrived they staggered in, and Tirien hit the top floor button with the Force. He called on what power he could still channel to keep himself focused and give him the contours of his surroundings; his eyes weren't as bad as Mali's, but he was still blinking furiously even with the fire floors away. The carpet on the top floor was starting to warm as Tirien led Mali to the roof access door, reached for the card he had lost somewhere, and blew the door open with the Force.

The sunlight was harsh, and both Knights dropped to their knees, laying Kadych on the ground between them. Mali pitched forward, coughing up dark phlegm on his hands and knees. "What now?"

As if in answer a faint whisper grew to a hum, then a roar. Tirien straightened and looked up in time to see the Second Chance cut its repulsors hard, overshoot them, then nudge up, boarding ramp already lowered. Aldayr hung from the ramp strut, but Slejux dropped to the rooftop, scooping Master Kadych up in his arms and leaping back up to the ramp. Tirien struggled to his feet and Mali managed to get one foot under him, but he looked up and shook his head. "Not jumping that."

Aldayr seemed to understand. "Narasi, bring her down!"

The Second Chance bobbed lower, and Tirien jumped enough to grip the ramp's edge with his hands; Aldayr hauled him aboard while Tirien gritted his teeth against the pain in his ribs, then reached back for Mali. The three Jedi staggered aboard, and as he slapped the ramp button Aldayr bellowed, "Punch it!"

The engine roar echoed through the passenger compartment as the Second Chance lurched skyward; Mali went sliding over the floor, and Tirien had to grip a cabinet on the wall to stay on his feet.

"Tell Slejux to keep Master Kadych stable," he said, then clawed his way down the hall to the cockpit.

Narasi sat in the pilot's seat, and even through the fog of exhaustion, injury, and smoke inhalation, Tirien could sense her absolute focus. "Master, do you want to—?"

"No," he said, dropping into the copilot's seat and gasping in relief. He was in no better condition to fly than fight. "Get us out of here."

She sucked in a huge breath; Tirien envied her. "Okay. I've got this."

Something occurred to Tirien. "Narasi, the aft shields…"

"Didn't have time," she bit out. "Still dead."

Loath as he was to distract her, he felt compelled to point out, "So are we if we get hit."

"I took care of it," she said, then added, "I hope."

The control console started to ping as the ships in orbit acquired them in target lock. Tirien switched power to the front shields. "They're just responding now?"

"Four of the labor camps are in riot mode," Narasi commented. "They've had to bring down drop ships."

Narasi twisted the Second Chance sharply sideways; Tirien's stomach lurched, but ranging fire from the blockade missed them cleanly. The sensors picked up bogeys incoming, fast enough that they could only be fighters.

"Come on…" Narasi muttered. "Come on. Let someone here keep faith…"

Before Tirien could ask, another voice came over the comm. "What the hell took you so long?!"

"The building's on fire!" Narasi complained.

"You will be too if you don't get clear. You've got fighters incoming."

"Cover our flank," Narasi said. "We'll thin them out."

"If they shoot us down, I swear I'll come back there and shoot you before we crash, Kadelle," the woman on the line said before the feed cut.

Tirien almost asked, but the Force urged him to have faith. He tried a deep breath; something sharp hurt inside and his lungs still trembled, but he managed to keep it in without coughing. "What's the plan?"

"The Rogue's Gambit is covering us," Narasi said. "They've got guns for the fighters, we've got fore shields. Can Slejux do what he did before?  To the fighters?"

"He has to keep Master Kadych stable," Tirien said. "He's barely alive as it is."

"Can you?"

The idea of using any more Force powers made Tirien's brain ache, but he sighed. "Trust the Force and get us clear to jump. I'll buy us as much cushion as I can."

He reached out with the Force, but his injuries made it hard to focus. He could feel the second ship in their wake, and was vaguely aware of Kadelle Chun firing at the pursuing fighters. He reached for those minds, trying to divert them. There was no chance of throwing them off the trail completely; he tried for confusion, hoping Kadelle could catch one in a moment of distraction. His broken ribs kept intruding on his focus, but he sensed some of the Sith pilots vanishing in the Force.

The Second Chance rattled and the corridor lights went out as they broke through the atmosphere, and then there was no pretense of trying to track the pilots' minds, because Narasi sent the ship spiraling through a series of twists and turns as laser fire crisscrossed space all around them. The forward shields took a beating, turning from green to yellow on the display. They caught a glancing blow on the tail of the ship, but it still started bucking.

"Missed the engines!" Narasi said. Tirien turned to the navicomputer, running calculations, and she added, "Where are we going?"

"C-Corellia," Mali coughed, staggering up the corridor and leaning on Aldayr. "Straight up the R-Run. Gasald c-can't hit us there."

"Nal, we're going to Corellia," Narasi said into the comm.

"Let's go, then! We can't take much more fire; another couple shots and you're on your own."

"Come on come on come on come on come on," Narasi hissed; she jerked the ship hard to starboard, sending Aldayr and Mali into the bulkead and avoiding a turbolaser by a meter.

"Can you get me a comm to the Kiss of Death?" Mali asked.

"What?!" Tirien asked. "Why?"

"Just do it."

Narasi spun the Second Chance into a barrel roll, and Tirien shrugged; nothing could make the day more insane. He hit a key and said, "All channels open. Go for it."

The Corellian staggered forward, knelt at Tirien's side, and hit the comm. "Vedya, this is Mali Darakhan. Take a look at your government center and see what happens when Sith get overbold.  We're retreating today, but your conquest is on borrowed time.  People of Milagro, I will return."

He slapped the comm off and sank back in a coughing fit. On the sensors the Rogue's Gambit peeled off their tail. "Sorry, Jedi, but we can't cover you any more. Good luck."

It vanished into hyperspace, and the fighters closed in on them. Tirien wondered if Mali was going to return to Milagro a lot sooner than he anticipated.

The navicomputer chimed, and he and Narasi seized the hyperdrive lever like a repulsor in the middle of the ocean. He felt the touch of fate as a starfighter pilot lined up a kill shot, but he and Narasi jammed the lever forward and the stars stretched to lines, which blurred to the safety of hyperspace.

Tirien leaned back, sighing on and on until his lungs seized and he coughed, but Narasi sat frozen in the pilot's chair for a long time. When she finally peeled her hands off the control yoke they were shaking, and her breathing accelerated. She turned to face Tirien with wide eyes; the shock of it was only then hitting her.

Wordlessly he put an arm around her shoulders, and she set her face against his shoulder, gasping. "You did it," he told her. "You saved us."

She slowed her breathing after a moment, but Tirien sensed eyes on them, and looked back to find Mali studying them from the floor, an introspective look on his face.