Khar Shian
Caution was the apex of their concerns as the two Shadows crept through the inky gloom of this, the cloning faculty underground. All about them machines of various origin and dubious condition were erected, some chugging with activity and some not. Their objective was here somewhere, for above them they could hear the massive power generators producing juice for the entire station.
“There…” whispered Mat, pointing to a large machine sitting in the corner. “That’s it.”
Nodding in agreement, Tobal moved closer for an inspection. It was indeed their target, the coolant filter, and provider for the power generators above them.
“Give me the Detonators,” whispered the tribal, his hand out. “You get the cabling.”
Mat nodded in return, and fished two fist sized grenades out of his pack. Simple in design, archaic in fact, these detonators were about as fail-safe as they got. Sacrificing power for reliability, durability, and protection from all sorts of elements, they were a mainstay for special-op forces across the galaxy. The casing was an almost indestructible alloy, the bottom magnetic. Often used for breaching the hulls of ships, these explosives secured themselves to the ship’s shell, and blasted a hole
into the ship.
Swiftly doing as he had been trained to do, Tobal activated the primitive, yet robust clockwork timer on each of the explosives. Utilizing the magnetic base on one, he stuck it on one of the reinforced coolant return arteries. The other he placed against the main power conduit entering the machine.
“Almost done?” he whispered to his companion, his voice low.
“Yeah,” came the reply. “Just let me get this cable … Ah…” the sound of wire cutters making their way through a thick wire met Tobal’s ears, and he glanced about quickly.
“Hurry up.”
“Just a second… gotta hardwire this… there.”
Mat came around from the back of the machine, and the two crept off again, their work done. As they moved across the floor, backtracking toward where they had come from, Mat stood bolt upright, his eyes wide with fear.
“Down!” he whispered hoarsely, and the two dropped to the ground in an instant. Seconds later, an explosion rocked the floor, lifting the two men up before setting them down. The force rippled out like a shockwave in the minds of each man, a feeling unlike any they had ever experienced. A few moments passed after the detonation, before they dared move.
“What, was
that” gasped Tobal, shaking his head in an attempt to loose the ringing in his ears.
“Some sort of massive Force attack, I’m not sure. I’ve never felt anything like it before Tobal… there are some very powerful people here.”
Tobal nodded his head in assent, and motioned for his friend to follow. It was time for them to exit.
This time however, their path was not so easy. As they rounded some machinery, Tobal in a crouch testing the ground before each step, Mat in a semi-crouch almost sliding his feet across the smooth floor, they walked straight into a group of four very suppressed Massassi solders.
Mat stood straight up, his mouth open, his body a mere foot from the Massassi in front of him. The Massassi also stared, its mouth agape. The other three were arrayed behind in a staggered pattern, each covering the other.
Tobal blinked as Mat ran into the Massassi. He focused his eyes forward, and spotted the other three through the inky blackness that surrounded them. Standing on the outside of the turn, he had a good view of the entire group, and their demeanor.
One hand moved to his side, grabbing the vibro-blade he kept there while the other hand balled into a fist. He leapt.
Flying through the air, Tobal’s mind automatically ran through four different ways to kill the Massassi before him, three bloody one not. He settled upon a fifth technique the moment before he landed, next to his friend. Coming up from a crouch, his fist connected with the Massassi’s solar plexus with a sharp thud. The man doubled over, his face contorted with pain. As he tried to back up, a hard chop to the throat crushed his windpipe, and he went down. Before he hit the ground, Tobal was already gone. His now active vibro-blade already on its way to the forehead of the fourth Massassi, and he moving forward still.
Letting out a snarl, Tobal gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into the chest of the second Massassi with all his weight and strength behind it. The blow connected solidly, smashing the ribcage of his enemy and sending him sprawling.
The third Massassi was next in line, his reflexes beginning to move his blaster into firing position. Tobal fell into a slide in an attempt to avoided a premature blast, his forward motion carrying him into the clone’s legs, toppling him onto the tribal.
They rolled a bit, each grasping for the others throat. Squeezing, scratching, the Massassi even attempting to bite. Overpowered by a man much larger than himself, Tobal suddenly gave up trying to choke his enemy, and diverted his attention to the last weapon in his belt, his lightsabre. As the Massassi’s hands found his windpipe and squeezed, Tobal found his weapon and pushed. Pushed the emitter into the pelvis of his enemy and ignited it. The blade stabbed up with an explosion of light, and sound. The Massassi screamed, as his bowels were burned, then cauterized. Ripping the blade up, Tobal kicked and pushed his enemy away. The lightsabre gutted the man, and split his ribcage and head in two. Blood gushed from wounds that were too large to be cauterized neatly, and Tobal rolled away. The sound of a blaster being cocked made him wince, and he remembered the man he had just shoved. In an instinctive move guided by the Force, the force he had strived so hard to remove himself from for the last two hours, he brought his saber up and over his head.
Impact. He felt the connection of bolt to blade twice, the sound not reaching his ears as he continued to roll. Sparks flew as his blade gouged into the permacrete, and another impact was felt on the saber. Then, it stopped. Kicking out Tobal rolled rather clumsily into a crouch, his eyes blinded by his own weapon. The force flowed through him though, telling him exactly where his four dead enemies were.
“I got him Tobal” Came Mat’s shaky voice. “Sorry.”
Deactivating his saber and moving over to his friend, Tobal tried wiping some of the blood off of his face with his equally bloody cloak.
“That’s alright.”
His friend stared, his glow rod now on illuminating Tobal. Blood covered his clothing, covering the already slimy sewage remains in a slick, red tinted glow.
“That, is revolting.” Said Mat, his voice shaky still.
“It is blood. Have you never seen blood?”
“Not that much of it.” Replied the other Shadow, his tone portraying distaste, and a possible sick stomach.
“We had better keep moving.” Said Tobal, snuffing Mat’s light. “I opened myself up there, and someone might have heard the blaster fire.”
“What, after that explosion? I doubt it… we could play Jizz down here and no one would know.” Mat said sardonically.
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Yes.” Agreed Mat. “Shall we move the bodies?”
“What for?”
“Oh…. No reason …”
“We can throw them down this sewage hole, if you wish to take the time.”
“No, no, that’s fine. The timers have a minute to go anyway, we can’t spare the time. Never mind, forget I even suggested it.”
“Ok, do you have your grapple?”
Mat unlocked the device from his belt and handed it to Tobal, who straddled the drainage hole he had mentioned, and fired up. The hook on the end of the wire coil gripped into the ceiling, and Tobal lowered himself into the sewage pipe. Moments later, the gun self retracted into Mat’s waiting hands, and he too lowered himself down.
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