The Rebel Faction

The rainfall had started not long following the descent of the various star ships above Theed; the clouds had become heavy, and dark, the water landing in heavy droplets that soaked to the bone. Yet despite the downpour, there was little wind or movement, save for the constant splatter of rain on earth. Most of the citizens of the fated city had withdrawn, seeking the safety of their homes, even though the threat of annihilation loomed above their heads. It seemed almost ironic how some could worry about rain, when Imperial Destroyers posed a far deadlier possibility of torrent…

It almost made Vicirus chuckle, the amusement evident to even his lessened sense of humor.

The Sith Lord stalked toward the Jedi temple. He had passed through the city, having eluded the notice of the majority of the residents; and the sudden bout of weather made his attempts at remaining unnoticed that much more effective. Built within the forest just beyond Theed itself, the temple sat like a foreboding construction that begged to feel the essence of the Force within its halls once again; and just like an addict would seek any substance to fulfil a need, so to did the sanctuary simply need a rekindling of power, no matter the morale alignment associated with it…

The Jedi were present on the planet. Darth Vicirus could feel the underwhelming sense of the Light Side, and when compared to the growing sensation of the darkness that approached the planet surface, it almost made the Sith pity them.

“That’s as far as you go, Sith,” Came a voice from behind. “You will not taint the Jedi temple with your evil…”

The two Jedi who had approached had gone mostly unnoticed. Vicirus had hoped the pair would have simply continued on their way, fleeing like the few others who had populated the city; but alas they, or at least the elder of the two, seemed intent on hindering the Dark Side wherever it surfaced…

Even if that meant confronting a Sith Master.

The smaller of the Jedi, and judging by the young teenager’s wavering presence in the Force, was a Padawan of some tutelage. None the less, when the Sith turned to regard the obstacle, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities in how the pair stood; how the learner mimicked the other; and it was plainly obvious that they were Master and pupil.

The Padawan was firm, unmoving, but his eyes showed his fear; likewise, the Jedi teacher seemed to be more resolute in resolve, especially in through the Force. Perhaps an experienced Jedi Knight, who had been on the verge of becoming a Master in the next few years?

It mattered little.

“This is a sacred place, one where the Dark Side cannot touch,” The Jedi continued, with his student quiet by his side. “Leave now, or we’ll be forced to remove you from this place.”

Vicirus inclined his head, his eyes flashing from one lightsaber to the next. The Padawan had modelled his closely upon the Knight’s, and this meant that they could potentially know the same combat forms; and if not identical, then close enough to be immaterial when confronting them both in combat.

“Very well,” Darth Vicirus said, smiling as he looked to the Padawan. “It appears as though you will have to forcefully remove me… if you can.” And reaching down to his belt, the Sith produced his curve-handled lightsaber hilt; and with a snap-hiss, the blue blade extended with a burst of energy.

Likewise, the Jedi activated their weapons, the matching yellow blades speaking further of the relationship between them. For a moment nothing was said, with the only sound being the energy blades sparking in the rain. Most lightsabers were constructed to withstand water, and short of total submersion the traditional weapons would cope adequately for the imminent altercation.

Stalking forward, Vicirus twisted his blade around in an intricate kata, before grasping the hilt in both hands; while the two Jedi closed with the Sith, bringing their own blades to bare. The initial pass was a mass of quick jabs and prods, each of the combatants testing the other, trying to gauge for weaknesses and how best to exploit them. Unlike their opponent, the Jedi were clearly under trained in the lightsaber art, and the Sith was able to immediately recognize several flaws in their combat technique.

The Padawan, for one, was attacking slightly off-balance; along with the mild limp of his right foot, which indicated some form of injury or sprain; and finally his hand positions were placed incorrectly on the handle that was a little too big for him.

Possibly an attempt by his master to save the pupil some time, and later construction, after he had finished growing to maturity, Vicirus thought to himself, stepping forward and hopping over the Padawan’s attack, while swatting the Knight’s aside.

The Jedi turned, in unison, and came back at the other. Their training had been together, that much was evident, and it caused the Sith Master to reconsider his options. Despite having the greater sabering prowess, it remained that two blades working together was more difficult to handle than simply two blades.

The weapons clashed again, Vicirus keeping himself open to the Force; he felt the surge of power, the clarity that came with his deep battle concentration, and he began to see his enemies as one would read a holoprojection. The Jedi began to alter shape, forming dim limbs around the standard four each had; and in this regard, there became a map of various action possibilities, of which the Sith Master could better assess their movements.

The Sith knew when the Knight moved into the higher potentials that he was going to attack with an overhead strike; and likewise, Vicirus knew that when the Padawan began to lower his arms and body, he was going to sweep for the Sith’s feet… and with a deft horizontal dive, Vicirus passed parallel with the blades, each humming extension passing by above, and below, his twisting form. Landing firmly, Vicirus spun and brought his lightsaber around; and with the speed of the attack, the blade sliced across the Jedi Knight’s flank, sizzling into the flesh of the back of his thigh, causing him to let out a grunt of pain.

“Jo’ian, take his left,” The Knight commanded, his features twisted in discomfort as he turned to keep up with the Sith’s movements. And in the same step, the teacher broke right, the pair spreading out and surrounding Vicirus between them…

It was time to end it, before the Jedi began to coordinate too effectively.
As each opponent came around, Vicirus jabbed his lightsaber toward the Knight, causing the other to deflect and sidestep, locking the blades; while in the same movement, the Sith reached out with the Force and grasped the Padawan. And slipping to one side, the Sith Master pulled the younger Jedi forward, causing him to stumble through the space previously occupied… and directly onto the angled lightsaber of the Jedi Knight, just as the Sith pulled his crossed blade free.

The Knight’s weapon burned through the younger Padawan’s torso, slicing the boy from chest to hip. With a gargle of misplaced lung fluid, the acrid stench of burning flesh filled the damp air, mixing with the sweet scent of fresh rain.

“N-no…” The Jedi Knight stammered, his eyes widening in horror, as he quickly tried to pull the blade back and away from his pupil.

Vicirus didn’t allow the Jedi time.

With a twist of his wrist, the Sith spun the blue blade around, catching the center of the Jedi’s neck, severing his head cleanly. As the disembodied portion of being tumbled to the ground, rolling across the grass with an expression of mixed pain, and sorrow, it was all Darth Vicirus could do to keep from letting out a laugh. The suffering on both Jedi’s faces had been so satisfying… it had filled the Sith Master with a rush of exhilaration, and consequently had awakened the typically controlled thirst for chaos within him.

Turning toward the temple, Vicirus deactivated his lightsaber. With a grin on his face, and a glint in his eye, the Sith Master closed with the ancient building, intent on claiming what he would…

Resistance was not an option. Against a crescendo of blaring news speakers announcing the Queen's quiet assent of Imperial annexation, sirens blared a sinister whine as a swarm of dropships descended upon Theed. The broad promenades and tree-lined boulevards that gave such a sprawling city is peaceful feel allowed shuttles and landing barges to touch down in every corner of the capitol. From the shuttles marched columns of red-tuniced soldiers wearing silver curiasses which glistened in the setting sun.


Symbolic; darkness descends of the Jedi temple world just as we come to stamp out their infestation.


One particular landing barge set down on an elegant bridge designated only for foot traffic and dropped its ramp with a thunderous crash. A trio of wheeled scout cars drove out followed by a long black staff car and some transport craft. Off they rushed through the city's streets scattering civilians before them on trams and on foot with a terrible two-tone siren and red and white strobe lights from the four repulsor-lorries behind them. The column sped on, turning left then right until it breached the compound of the Royal Palace.


General der Inquisition Reinhard Heydrich pushed open the reverse passanger door of the staff car and exited, his tall frame easily rising over the black roof of the car and the heads of his exiting staff officers. He looked around at the entrance corridor, a half circle of marble columns around a flowery court yard, and moved off with long strides after three squads of infantrymen rushing into the interior of the palace.


Inside, the Inquisitoriate men and women were greeted with tall stone etched images of great Naboo citizens of the past, many of them with royal blood in their veins. Polished floors, high vaulted ceilings, and wide corridors reminded many of holos of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant as they cleared room after room. Royal Protectors, the blue and maroon guardians of the Queen, stood angrily by as their weapons were taken from them and herded into groups for registering by the second wave of landing troops.


The soldiers continued to press on, increasingly suspicious of the bloodless surrender. When they entered the throne room, their weapons were no longer at the low ready but instead pointed directly out ready to encounter whatever threat dared present itself. Squads fanned out left and right around the elegant Queen and her retinue; the soldiers lined the walls and lowered their weapons but not their guard.


Queen Carlotta was a young woman, not much older than the wives and sweethearts of the men now surrounding her, sullying her home with their very presence. She stood silent with her advisors and bodyguards around her as a group of Imperials moved out of the simple soldiers at a distance. They were obviously officers for they carried neither armor nor rifles. Having surrounded herself with guards since her election, she knew weapons but could not recognize the stubby pistols at the men's sides. She thought she did, however, recognize the tallest of the group, closing with her steadily. He was lean with a young face and blond hair and sharp features, a not unattractive specimen of the model Imperial. Mentally shaking her head, the Queen realized it was not Grand Admiral Desaria; his hair was black and his uniform was white.


The tall man approached closer, leaving his staff a step or two behind. He clasped black gloved hands behind him, exposing a powerful breast under a uniform of blood red. He spoke with cleaer deliberation. " Your Majesty, I am General Heydrich. I have only one question for you: where are the Jedi?"

The woman before him oozed a controlling hypersexuality in all that she did and it was this attempt at control that was why Lupercus had denied her what they had both wanted back on Coruscant. Even now, with the impending destruction of the Jedi and the Sith's rebirth on Naboo coming to a head, he still couldn't get that hedonistic control of hers from his mind.

Not that it showed on his face or in his thoughts.

Especially not on his face, as the Sith was now wearing the polymer facial distortion mask that he had been forced to develop to hide his more destructive tendancies from his Corellian constituents. At the moment it bore his own features, but in a few seconds Lupercus would activate the small electrocurrents through the masks micro-circuitry and the putty like substance would mould into something considerably more non descript than that of the Corellian Diktator.

Before the groups eyes sunlight rushed into the bowels of the cloaked ship which a harsh reminder of the differences between natural light and the artificial one they had come to accept during their voyage.

“The planet is rank of Jedi my Shadow Lord.”

But when Ishara turned to the Patriarch of her order, the face he bore was totally different to one she lusted after. Still, the man responded with the same disdainful force of disgust at the site before him.

"You're right Ishara, but let's see what we can do about that..."

As the trio stepped off the ramp it immediately begun closing behind them, the small discombobulated inside of the ship finally melded back into the invisible nothingness of the crafts Aeten cloak. It was at that point that Lupercus stopped to truly take in the sight before him.

Not a hundred metres away down the slight rise of a grassy hill lay the once proud Jedi Praexium, its massive vaunted towers reaching up into the skies like stiletto daggars piercing into the heart of the cosmos.

And the place, as Ishara had said herself, physically reeked of the Jedi.

Off to their right a squad of Inquisitorate troops was spreading out and establishing a base camp for their battalion as the bulk of their soldiers begun spreading out and seizing nearby tactical strong points. It only took a small effort from Lupercus to have a platoon broken off and sent towards the temple.

The Sith Lord wasn't surprised at the ease with which he was able to control even these harden troops. The amount of times he had engaged the Empires soldiers in battle meditation they were coming to be reliant on his influence. The last people to have been so vital to the Imperial armed forces were Lord Vader and Darth Sidious.

As he watched the troops near the temple Lupercus turned to his apprentice and Ishara.

"Shall we?"

Once again he took off without waiting for a response.

Darth Vicirus felt the presence of the Jedi long before he physically saw the man. The ripples flowing around from the Jedi’s manipulation, to come to a soft landing, were like a light cast into a darkened pit; as it was so clear when all around was so barren in the Force.

“Sith!”

Stopping, the Sith Master inclined his head as he looked at the other man, casting a critical eye over the new arrival. His stance was one of pride, but also of a deep need to defend something precious, and his eyes were filled with resolve. It was more than clear, even before the Jedi said a word, that an altercation would take place.

“My name is Jedi Zark Ekan, and while I breathe you will not enter this sacred temple! I give you an ultimatum, though I know already what answer you will give. Leave in peace, or try to kill me.”

As Ekan activated his lightsaber, so to did Vicirus flick his own weapon out, the blade humming to life. Seemingly the Jedi felt smug, as he gave a grin and stared the Sith before him down. Apparently the Jedi weren’t prone to constricting the self-image of their members anymore…

“Was that dramatic to your satisfaction?”

“I wasn’t aware you were trying to impress me,” Darth Vicirus said, as he raised an eyebrow, smiling thinly. He took a series of steps toward the Jedi, interested in witnessing how much the opponent-to-be truly knew, or if he was simply filled with a severe case of bravado. “But, in any case, you have given me the ultimatum and I choose to kill you… as, I’m sure you are aware, there is no such thing as try. Or have the teachings of the Jedi changed so much, since last I examined my enemies’ doctrines?”

Coming to the base of the stairs, the Sith Master cracked the knuckles on his left hand, by balling the digits into a tight fist. His right tensed up on the lightsaber between his fingers, and without another word leapt toward the Jedi!

Moving through the air, Vicirus stabbed his blade before him, seeking to impale his opponent. Landing firmly, the Sith stepped to his left, spinning his weapon as he sought to deflect the counter-attack that was sure to come from his initial assault. And ducking low, Vicirus turned full-circle, swiping at the Jedi’s legs; which, in turn, he aimed to cause his opponent to jump into the air to evade the attack…

It was now a matter of who could lead whom, and Darth Vicirus had long since learnt the steps to lightsaber combat.

The charge came faster than Zark had expected. He had been out of the galaxy’s eye for some time, and things had apparently changed. Years ago, the Sith would have likely been more than willing to entertain his banter. Zark had known the game well. He would try to sway him from the Darkside, and the Sith would mock him and his beliefs. And so the vicious philosophical debate would rage until the Jedi got too self-righteous or the Sith got too bored.

The paltry introduction that had taken place was a far cry from what Zark had been used to. Which meant one of two things. Either things had changed a hell of a lot since he had been gone, or this Sith was in a hurry, and considered him a minor inconvenience more than a real threat. Zark knew better to believe the former, some things just never changed. So the Sith was feeling a little rushed. Good.

Even so, the initial attack caught him slightly off his guard. His lightsaber lifted, but Zark knew it was too late to deflecting a jabbing attack such as the one the Sith had begun with. Desperately, he improvised by arching his back to an extreme angle and using the Force to support his weight. The blow that would have surely impaled in sailed by half a meter or so above him.

Had he anticipated the dodge, the Sith surely could have brought the saber down and cut him in two, but the maneuver was so unorthodox that, by the time he had realized the method of Zark’s avoidance, the parrying strike that he had anticipated was in place to match the twirling deflection.

The Sith crouched low and swept at his legs. Zark’s originally awkward positioning came to his advantage. Instead of leaping high, as would be expected in a normal situation (and no doubt anticipated and accounted for by the Sith), Zark continued his arch until his free hand reached a stone step of the Temple stairs. Pushing off with his feet and amplifying their strength with the Force, he avoided the swipe with a low sort of backflip, landing further, about halfway up the stairway, and a reasonably ‘safe’ distance from his enemy.

Something was definitely amiss with the situation. With his lack of caution, the Sith displayed his obvious underestimation of Zark’s lightsaber skills and a disregard of him as a real threat, yet he had come at him with the intention of a quick kill. He was definitely in a hurry, but why? By now, the Imperial forces had likely secured much of Theed, and the rest of the planet would soon follow. There was no resistance and no reinforcements on their way any time soon.

So why wasn’t this Sith playing with him?

What was in the Temple that couldn’t wait?

Or who was behind him that he didn’t want to catch up?

Zark was more than familiar with Sith rivalries. It was a part of who they were to betray everyone around them, even their own brethren. Had this particular Sith made some powerful enemies in his Order’s hierarchy. Zark didn’t doubt it. Still, he couldn’t be sure.

Fine by me, he thought to himself, If you want to play sabacc, we’ll play sabacc.

Old energies that had long remained dormant flowed through him, and Zark felt the rush and exhilaration of a deeper connection with the Force. If the Sith wasn’t willing to treat him as a worthy adversary, then he’d just have to change his mind. Pure white sparks lanced up his arms from his hands and spread out across his body. His hair stood on end as the Force energy flowed all around him. Raising his right index finger at the Sith, his pupil less eyes flaring with white light as the bolt sprang forth from his finger tip toward the Sith.

For the first time in a long time, the Spark of the Lightside flowed from a Jedi.