MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 18

It had been two hours since Walton had made contact with Shadikill Army Command, just after Dylan had awakened. Dylan had stood there as command relayed its orders. They said they were sending over a battalion to hold the base, and they were taking Dylan and his squad home. Dylan had attempted to refuse, but the orders had come from higher up than even the Shadikill Army Command, they had come directly from his parents.

Dylan stood outside of the base, staring off into the sky. Frustration swelled within him. He felt trapped, imprisoned, bound by chains that prevented him from doing what he longed to do with every fiber in his being. His hands squeezed into fists as he felt his teeth press tightly against each other, his eyes squinting and glaring off into the distance.

Just then, he heard a voice cry out from behind him. “Dylan!” He turned around to see Walton running towards him. He turned back around and continued to stare into the distance.

“Dylan!” Walton repeated as he finally reached him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting…” Dylan replied.

“For what?” Walton asked suspiciously.

“Revenge,” Dylan replied, his words seething with hatred. He wanted nothing more than to find this Lightor, remove his golden helmet, look him straight in the eyes, and drive the tip of his black blade straight through his heart.

“Dylan,” Walton began, his voice holding a cautious tone, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with Dylan. Dylan had never seen Walton like this before, but then again Dylan had never been like this before. “We have our orders, we need to return to the capital.”

“I’m not going back there,” Dylan began to respond. “Not until I rescue Shorya. That is where I am going. Not back home to cower behind the walls of a castle.”

“But your parents said-”

“I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT MY PARENTS SAID!” Dylan cried out in fury. Walton took a step backwards, shocked into total silence. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Dylan stared at his friend and sighed. “I’m sorry Walton,” he began, with an apologetic tone of voice. “I’m sorry for going off on you like that. You don’t deserve my anger.”

“Dylan,” Walton continued. “I know how much she means to you, but she’s still one person, she’s trapped behind enemy lines, and your parents have requested you return home.”

“It’s not just about her,” Dylan replied. He could feel a blanket of guilt fall over him. “I-“ he began, the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask about the others Walton, really, I am. I- I need to explain why I did what I did.”

“Of course Dylan,” Walton said. Dylan could hear sympathy behind his words, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he deserved it.

“I’m not entirely sure how to describe the feeling I had when he shot me,” Dylan began. “I don’t know how to describe my state of mind. In the moment that he shot me, all I could feel was emotion. I felt like I needed to protect Shorya, and I hated this Lightor for trying to kill her. Pure passion swelling up in my body, clouding my mind, affecting the rhythm of my heart. I felt something else though. I don’t know how to describe what I felt, but it was more powerful than anything I had ever felt before. I felt power.

He paused for a second and saw a look of investment in Walton’s face, clearly waiting for him to finish his explanation.

“Then when I was in that coma, all I could feel were those feelings, and my mind was enveloped in that passion,” Dylan continued. “For several hours, all that was going through my head were thoughts of Shorya and this Lightor. All I could feel was love and hate. When I woke up, those feelings and thoughts didn’t just vanish. They were at the forefront of my mind, so instead of asking about the welfare of the rest of our squad, all I could think about was her and him. You all mean a lot to me, and I’m sorry if my actions today didn’t show it. I just hope that you can forgive me.”

After a brief pause, Walton stepped forwards and hugged Dylan. “Of course I forgive you. What else are droogies for?”

“Thank you,” Dylan replied, his eyes beginning to water. After a few more seconds, Dylan and Walton let go of each other, and Dylan wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I have to do this Walton,” Dylan began again. “And it’s not just because of Shorya.”

“Why else would it be?” Walton asked curiously.

“This was an ambush!” Dylan spat out vehemently. “They were waiting for us. They were waiting to kill me! They failed, but they came pretty damn close! They shot me and cut off Barre’s arm! And now they have Shorya!”

“They were trying to kill you?” Walton asked.

“Yes!” Dylan responded. “They were hunting me, and they all deserve to die! And Shorya deserves better than to be trapped behind bars forever, or until they decide to execute her!”

“I understand Dylan, but I’m not sure what you can do,” Walton said sympathetically. “The battalion is 3 hours away and we have no way of sneaking into that base.”

Dylan paused for a second. “I contacted Vu while you were talking with Shadikill Command, and he’s less than an hour away.”

“I’m sorry my droogie,” Dylan began. “But I’m going to rescue Shorya and there’s nothing any of you can say or do that will stop me.”

——————————————————————————

Copley walked across the streets of Onderon, heading towards a compound on the outskirts of the capital city. He was one of the Dark Lord Odious’s elite guardsman, and he was here with two other people. One was a regular guardsman like him, but the other was a man named Carthage, leader of the Dark Lord’s guard. He was a man who took great pleasure in annoying and aggravating anyone and everyone he could, with the exclusion of Odious and the other guardsman.

Copley was here with the Captain and one other guardsman to extinguish the spark of rebellion before it caught fire. The Sith had held control over Onderon for almost a three years by this point. A tight grip over the planet. The Sith ruled any territory they conquered with a durasteel fist, and Onderon was no exception. The people however did not take so kindly to their rule, they had in fact resented the Sith occupation of their planet from the beginning.

Fortunately for the Sith, these people were too weak and afraid to actually take action against them. At least, on their own. News of a meeting between the Onderonian King and a Jedi ambassador had reached the Dark Lord’s ears. This was why he had sent Captain Carthage, and two other members of his personal guard to Onderon. To end an otherwise peaceful meeting with violence and death, and put an end to the talks of rebellion among the people.

Copley was growing anxious as they approached the compound. He always took great pleasure in killing Jedi, as well as any Sith the Dark Lord would turn him loose on. Much like his captain and the Dark Lord, Copley enjoyed people’s suffering. His thoughts were cut short as his keen eyes noticed a flicker of movement on top of one of the roofs.

“Sir!” Copley yelled. “A Jedi!”

“Destroy him!” the Guard Captain ordered.

“With pleasure!” Copley said as a sadistic grin spread across his face.

The Jedi began to run across the rooftop, but Copley did not intend to let him get away that easily. Taking two steps back, Copley charged forwards, and leaped fifteen feet into the air towards the Jedi. Once his feet struck the rooftop, he took off sprinting after the Jedi. This Jedi was fast, but Copley was faster. As the Jedi leaped across the rooftops, Copley trailed right behind him, getting several feet closer every second.

Finally, as the Jedi tried to leap from one rooftop to the next, Copley was but a couple of feet behind him. Kicking his leg into the air, Copley brought his leg around, and swept it into the legs of the airborne Jedi. His momentum redirected, the Jedi fell towards the ground, landing hard on his back.

Without a moment of hesitation, Copley leaped down after him, aiming his fist at the Jedi’s head. Before the blow connected however, the Jedi rolled out of the way, and Copley’s fist did nothing but shatter the pavement upon which the Jedi’s head had rested less than a second ago. Most Knights would’ve fallen then and there to Copley. It was then that Copley realized that he was dealing with a Jedi Master.

Copley looked up at the Jedi Master standing before him. This Jedi was a human male, clad in dark brown robes holding a green lightsaber in his right hand. The two opponents observed each other for a few seconds, attempting to gauge their respective abilities before going on the offensive. Then, the Jedi attacked.

The Jedi master came in hard and fast, unleashing several lightning quick flurries from his green blade. The Jedi’s skill in Ataru was considerable, but Odious had slaved several microcomputers with advanced combat algorithms into the brains of each of his guards, as well as having each one trained to perfection in Teras Kasi. The Jedi was fast, but each of the Dark Lord’s guard was subjected to several cybernetic alterations, as well as several biological augmentations at the hands of Sith alchemy. Though they could not touch the force, these alterations allowed the members of Odious’s guard to be faster and stronger than the majority of Jedi and Sith in the Galaxy.

The Jedi Master’s attacks were quick and precise. His speed was astonishing, but Copley’s combat algorithms and mastery of Teras Kasi allowed him to recognize each of the Jedi’s moves and dodge each strike with even greater speed than the Jedi had unleashed them with. For five seconds, the Jedi master drove Copley back with a flurry of graceful but vicious slashes and thrusts. For five seconds, the unarmed Copley did nothing but step back and dodge each incoming strike with lightning quick reflexes. Then, Copley found his opening.

Reaching out, Copley caught the hilt of the Jedi’s lightsaber just below the emitter mid-blow, instantly brining a full stop to the Jedi’s strike. The Jedi attempted to press his blade on, but it was completely still. Then the Jedi tried to wrench it out of the guardsman’s grasp, but his attempt was in vain. Copley was simply far stronger than his opponent.

Uninterested in prolonging this contest anymore, Copley crushed the end of the lightsaber hilt, shorting the blade out in a shower of sparks. Before the Jedi master could react, Copley thrust his arm forward, slamming the pommel of the Jedi’s now useless lightsaber right into his face. There was a sickening crunch of cartilage as the Jedi’s nose was crushed behind the force of Copley’s blow.

Following up that strike, Copley spun around and thrust his leg out, catching the Jedi square in the abdomen. The Jedi screamed as his body flew through the air like a rag doll before slamming into the wall of a building behind him, leaving it completely covered in several large cracks that were not there before.

Copley grinned as the Jedi got back up on his feet, now coughing blood. He reveled in his victory, slowly walking over to the Jedi Master as he leaned against the cracked wall for support.

As a last ditch effort, the Jedi thrust out his hand and unleashed a blast of telekinetic energy at the guardsman. This blast would’ve sent any other non-force sensitive flying through the air, but thanks to the alchemical alterations made to Odious’s guards, they were imbued with a certain level of resistance against force techniques. As a result, the attack that should’ve sent Copley sprawling, merely staggered him backwards.

Copley grinned at the Jedi’s futile efforts to delay the inevitable. He took one last step forwards, and threw a punch straight at the Jedi’s chest. There was a loud sickening noise as his fist tore right through the Jedi’s ribcage and struck the stone of the wall behind him. A loud crack resounded throughout the night as the wall completely shattered and collapsed under the force of this killing blow.

As he turned to walk away, he noticed something lying on the ground near the Jedi Master. It was another lightsaber, with a strange flattened hilt. It appeared elegant and had an electrum finish. Copley dashed back in the direction of Carthage and the other guardsman with the lightsaber in his hand.

“Ah Copley,” Carthage said, glancing at his blood-soaked arm. “I see the Jedi was no match for you without the aid of his nexus on Coruscant.”

“Captain, the Jedi dropped this, and it is not his own lightsaber,” Copley said, handing the weapon over to the guard Captain.

“It would be just like that incompetent king to request an audience with the Jedi and not allow them to keep their lightsaber on them,” Carthage began as he clipped the lightsaber to his belt. “Who else would the Jedi ambassador trust with his lightsaber other than one of his own kin? It is very likely that the Jedi ambassador we were sent to kill is unarmed, and much like his friend, he has no access to a nexus either.”

——————————————————————————

Amoye Ilu stood just behind the doors of the compound, waiting for the enemy to arrive. As soon as he felt Jedi Master Avar die through the force, he had abruptly ended his meeting with the Onderonian king, telling him that he would cover his escape.

Suddenly, the durasteel doors of the compound burst open, and three men entered. Armored with force pikes holstered on their backs, Amoye Ilu instantly recognized them as members of the Dark Lord’s guard. He also noticed the slightly different coloration on the armor of the man standing in the middle. Ilu did not need the force to know that this man was their Captain.

The guardsman to the Captain’s right froze. “It’s Amoye Ilu!”

The guardsman to the Captain’s left asked “Do we attack?”

The captain replied, “Yes. He may be a blademaster, but without his lightsaber and a nexus, he is only fodder.” Then, the captain charged in and threw a kick at his face, attempting to catch him off guard.

Amoye Ilu may have not been permitted to keep his lightsaber with him during this meeting, but he was still an expert in the Echani martial art, and he still had the force on this side. Something about the captain just irritated Amoye Ilu beyond measure. He could practically sense this man’s ignorance. He knew nothing of how the force worked, and Ilu was about to make him regret that.

As the first kick came in, Amoye Ilu stepped back, easily dodging it. Then the Captain spun around and thrust his other leg in the air, unleashing two lightning quick kicks at Ilu’s face, which the blademaster anticipated and easily blocked both with his arm. He could tell that the captain, much like the rest of Odious’s guard, was a master of Teras Kasi.

The captain followed up these kicks with a flurry of punches employing the steel hands technique. Anticipating each and every one of the captain’s moves before he even made them, Amoye Ilu casually blocked each and every one of them with his right arm, before attempting to strike the man with his left hand. The captain however, caught Amoye Ilu’s arm with his hand. In less than a tenth of the second, Amoye Ilu realized that the captain was significantly more skilled in Teras Kasi than any other guard he’d seen, and punched him square in the chest with his right hand.

As the guard captain tumbled across the ground, the two other guardsman charged at Ilu and attempted to strike him with their fists, but Ilu easily deflected their blows to the side with his arms, before wrapping his left hand around one of the guardsman’s wrists. Before the guardsman could react, Amoye Ilu swung his right arm around and struck him square in the chest, before leaping up and kicking the other guardsman in the face before the first one had even finished falling to the ground.

Both guardsman tumbled to the ground as Ilu landed on his feet, his eyes now locked on the now charging captain. Unlike the last time the captain had charged, this time he was wielding a force pike. As Amoye Ilu dodged the first of the Captain’s swings, the other two guardsman leaped back up to their feat and unveiled their own force pikes.

Wielding them with deadly skill, the three guardsman converged on Ilu and unleashed a raging storm of Teras Kasi moves and force pike strikes at the Jedi Master. Most Jedi masters would be pulverized immediately under this assault, even while armed, but this was Amoye Ilu. Each and every blow that came his way, he either dodged or blocked. Despite their skill, none of the guards’ strikes met their mark. Ilu was too fast, too skilled, too everything.

Defending against their assault, it became even more clear to Ilu that the guard captain was by and far the most skilled of the three, but even so was no match for him. No longer interested in prolonging this contest, Amoye Ilu opened himself up to the living force, and though he did not hold a lightsaber in his hand, he felt himself slipping into the mindset of Juyo-Kos.

With the force guiding his every move, Amoye Ilu thrust his leg out, catching the captain in the stomach with a kick and sending him sprawling. As the two other guardsmen swung at him with their force pikes, Ilu struck them both in the chests with knife-hand chops before flipping through the air over their strikes. Both men staggered backwards before charging him again.

When one guard swung at him with his force pike, Amoye Ilu transitioned into a sideways flip. Mid-flip, the Echani thrust out one of his legs, kicking one guard’s pike into the other guard’s face. The result was a shower of blood as the guard’s head practically exploded.

Landing on his feat again, Amoye Ilu leaped back into the air, catapulting himself into another flip. As he soared over the head of the second guard, he reached out, grabbed the second guard’s head with both hands, and twisted his own body in the air, wrenching the man’s head to the side. There was an audible snap as the guard’s neck broke. Amoye Ilu released his grip as he landed back on his feat, watching the limp body of the guard slide across the ground.

It was then that the captain got back up on his feet and picked up the force pike of one of his fallen men. Amoye Ilu held out his arms in a ready stance as the captain stepped back for a charge.

The captain came in hard and fast, unleashing a barrage of strikes with the force pikes, and a series of kicks, each one carefully aimed. None of them however found their mark. Not only was Amoye Ilu anticipating each and every move, he was anticipating exactly how to counter these moves. Each and every move the captain unleashed, Amoye Ilu either blocked it or dodged it, casually and without difficulty.

When the captain leaped up and threw a kick at Ilu’s head, the Jedi Master caught his foot, and thrust it down, forcing the captain back on his feet. With the captain right where he wanted him, Amoye Ilu jumped up, and thrust both of his legs out, each one striking one of the captain’s hands, sending the force pikes tumbling into the distance.

“Perhaps you are the one who is fodder,” Amoye Ilu responded as the captain took two steps back.

Laughing the captain said, “You haven’t beaten me yet weakling.” It was at that point that the captain grabbed something off of his belt, and a purple blade materialized in his hands. It was Amoye Ilu’s lightsaber.

The captain slashed twice at Amoye Ilu’s head, but the blademaster ducked under both strikes. Then the captain stepped forward and attempted to stab the blademaster, but Amoye took a step forward and wrapped his left arm around the captain’s right arm, locking it in place. He then glanced in the captain’s eye for a brief second and said, “You know nothing of the force.”

Amoye Ilu slammed his left hand into the captain’s throat in a knife-hand chop, punched the man in the chest with his right hand, and kneed him in the groin with his right knee. The guard captain cried out in pain as Amoye Ilu brought his right arm back. After a moment’s hesitation, Amoye Ilu thrust out his hand, striking the captain’s face with a palm-hand strike and sending him hurtling through the air. As the captain flew through the air, the Echani Jedi kicked him one last time in between the legs for good measure.

Hearing reinforcements on the way, Amoye Ilu realized he had to escape this planet. Using the force, he called his lightsaber into his hand and took off sprinting towards the location his starfighter was hidden.

——————————————————————————

Dylan stared as the Lightor transport landed in front of him, Walton, Barre, and Sullivan. This was Vu’s transport. This was the transport that would carry him to his revenge, and Shorya.

He was clad only in a black shirt and black pants. His armor was too damaged to be used, and he needed to dress in regular clothing in order to remain inconspicuous when infiltrating the Lightor base and looking for Shorya.

“Are you sure about this Dylan?” Walton asked one last time.

“I was never unsure,” Dylan replied.

“I wasn’t going to tell you this until after your mind had been made up,” Barre began. “But I actually threw together a few pieces of equipment for you.”

Barre pulled a bundle off of his back, and unraveled it. The first thing he grabbed was a black jacket.

“This jacket is made with several thin layers of armor on the inside that I like to call
‘micro armor’,” Barre began. “And the jacket itself is made from a blast dampening fabric. It won’t be as protective as regular armor, but in defense of your life, it is still far better than nothing. It also has a holster on the inside for your magnum, and a set of straps on the back for your katana.”

Dylan took the jacket and put it on. Glancing at himself, Dylan said “It’s rather stylish as well.”

Rolling his eyes, Barre grabbed the next item from the bundle. “This is your magnum. I took the liberty of upgrading the energy transmission speed and efficiently, so the shots you fire from this blaster will pack more of a punch, and you will be able to fire it more frequently. I also tweaked the barrel some, improving its range and accuracy.”

“It already packed a punch before,” Dylan said examining the blaster in his hands. “This is gonna tear right through them.”

Grabbing three last things, Barre handed them to Dylan. “This is a slicer spike, a cloaking device, and a personal shield. The slicer spike is hooked up to a miniature datapad and has a few slicing algorithms on it that should allow you to slice into most basic systems such as doors and data terminals.”

Dylan slid the small piece of technology into one of the pouches on the inside of his jacket.

“The cloaking device is a bit tricky,” Barre started to explain.

“Tricky?” Dylan asked confused.

“Yes,” Barre responded. “Because it is not integrated into an armor system, it cannot actively cloak you as you run or walk or move. As such, in order to be completely cloaked by this device, you need to be completely still.”

“I understand,” Dylan replied as he slid the cloaking device into one of the pouches.

“And the shield generator,” Barre explained. “That actually connects to a few relays installed in your jacket, in order to project the shield around your body with maximum efficiency. It’s meant to supplement the light armor provided by the jacket.”

“There’s a specific pocket on the outside of your jacket you are supposed to stick it in,” Barre said, pointing at a chest level pocket on the left side of the jacket. “But I’d advise you to keep it hidden in one of the internal pockets until you actually need it.”

“Thank you Barre,” Dylan replied. “If you could do all of this, I look forward to seeing what you can do with a cybernetic arm for yourself.”

Dylan finished placing everything in the proper holster and pocket before turning back to his men. “I’d just like to thank all of you for being here for me.”

“We would go with you in a heartbeat if you asked us!” Walton exclaimed.

“Walton,” Dylan began. “I’ve always trusted you with my life. Never have I regretted that decision. Never was I so pleased with that choice than when you carried me back to this base at a time in which my heart couldn’t even beat.”

“Then let us come with you,” Walton said.

“I’m sorry Walton,” Dylan began. “But you don’t have the proper equipment and Vu only thinks he can get one of us into the base without attracting too much attention. Besides, this is something I have to do myself.”

The four of their eyes were all misted with tears as they leaned in and embraced each other. For several seconds, they hugged, knowing that when they let go, they might not see each other ever again. Eventually, they let go, and Dylan took a step back towards the transport.

Something was bugging Dylan. He knew his friends would worry about him. They would probably have a hard time sleeping at night knowing the danger he would be in. Dylan paused for a second, not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said at last. “I have survived against worse odds before. I promise all of you that I will return, and so will Shorya.”

“If at all possible,” Barre began. “Could you perhaps bring back this Lightor’s head?”

“Barre,” Dylan replied, “it would be my genuine pleasure.”

And with that, Dylan stepped into the transport. “Goodbye my droogies!” he said as the doors closed, and the ship began to lift into the air. He was on his way to the Lightor base. He was on his way to revenge. He was on his way to rescue Shorya.