High Prophet Crozeus
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Attack on a base(This is just a short beginning to a story. It's not one of my best, so please feel free to comment on it, tell me if I should put in some more, say whatever you want.)
A deafening explosion rippled through the air. The brown haired man winced as shock waves rippled through his body. For this private, in the Universal Defensive and Offensive Republic, or UDOR, or just the Republic, the next few decisions he would make in his life would end it or keep him alive.
He had been separated from his sergeant and the few men who went with him on the mission that had caused the wailing and blaring alarms that were making the walls red with their flashing. He was heading back to his main section of the platoon that had been assigned to this “hell-hole of a mission which is a major understatement”, according to someone who he may call a friend one day, sometime, some other place.
For he was in a facility that produces weapons and ammunition, and various other foul objects of death that the wicked Empire may use.
And he had just blown up the main reactor and stolen a very important looking data pad.
He had done it by himself and his team, but they were all dead. Most had fallen while they set the charges but one carried on with him, but fell, wounded, in a battle with a Sith patrol. When they were all gone, the other had begged him to go, to leave him. As he did so, a Dark Jedi found him. He could still remember his screams to the almost musical tones of the lightsaber. He had gotten shakily to the rendezvous point and activated the demolition charge. But he had found three Republic troops dead. And a fire ball came round the corner.
He had ran, and he thought it had died down, and was running to his sergeant. He shook his head to clear his head of the memory of the man’s screaming and concentrated on his running.
As he ran, keeping his blaster rifle ready in case a Sith appeared in front of him, as they had a habit to. But if he died, it wouldn’t really matter to anyone else would it? He had told his deployment ship, a Star Destroyer (stolen from the Empire) called Heavens’ Gate what had happened, and called for back up. But he couldn’t get through to his sergeant. He doubted if his sergeant cared. He probably didn’t even know his name.
He was just a Republic private, and he was probably going to die soon.
2
To Sergeant James Harris, of the UDOR military, his death would matter very much. His unit was down to just under half strength, and they were coming under fire from all sides. He desperately needed him - what was his name? - And the other six men, he desperately needed their firepower.
James raised his blaster and shot a Sith trooper full in the chest, bringing death rushing to him. It was just him and seven other men, plus the squad, who had done their job, had gotten to the rendezvous point, where James had lost contact with the reinforcements and the group. The rest of his platoon of roughed up, left over, quickly trained commandos he had been assigned for this mission were dead. He had started it with 35 men including himself. He now had just seven. But then, the brown- haired private in the demo squad came around the corner like a wild bantha.
‘Where’s the rest of your squad soldier? Or the reinforcements?’
‘Wasted Sarge. Sorry.’
‘Damnit! We badly needed those men. Soldier!’
‘Yes sergeant?’
‘You still got those demo charges right?’
‘Yes sergeant.’
‘Then I want you to go get me an exit door.’
When the soldier just stood there blankly, he added:
‘Don’t just sit there soldier go, go, go!’
As James watched the private run off and wished him luck, James remembered his name. Keys. That was it, Keys. Jonathan Keys.
3
General Oliver Hughes, in joint command of the entire UDOR military, was a very worried man. He turned to look out of the forward view port at the men, tiny from the high view, scurrying around like ants on their various duties. From the men at the front, tiny blinks of light were flashing to and from them out across the open. Occasionally, a man would fall as a light found him. The lights could be considered pretty, colours such as blue, green, yellow and red, and different coloured lightsabers here and there. He could feel the Jedi’s presences in the Force, and to a lesser extent the Sith, but even though there were more Sith, the Jedi were stronger. For light was better than dark. Always. Yes, the lights were almost pretty, if they weren’t the cause of the end of a life. He could feel faint diminishments in the Force as people died. Every death, a new echo, the Force becomes weaker. He forced that thought into a small corner of his mind; only a scarce few knew that. Darth Traya knew it; she was dead, as were Sith Ruaridh and Jedis Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Bart‘ron’, as he called himself because he was part cyborg knows it, Darth Revan knows it, they are two commanding Sith generals, and Jedi General Oliver.
His major, Chris Avins shook his head as he watched his general sigh and collapse into his chair. He was falling apart. Well, now Chris thought about it, the whole universe was falling apart. Chris was Japanese, one of the few left alive. He had escaped from the bombardment of Asia by the Sith Star Destroyer, Tyrant, on the last transport out of there. Three and a half billion had died. Another thing the Sith were responsible for.
He was snapped out of his reverie when General Hughes asked:
‘How are your men doing at the bio centre?’
To which Chris replied - ‘I’m not sure sir, I lost comlink with them some ten minutes ago. Don’t worry though sir, they are good men, they’ll pull through.
‘Hmm, I’m not too sure about that. It wouldn’t be new to the Sith to have a larger garrison than they need. Maybe we should lift ’em up out of there.’
‘All right then sir, I’ll ready the ship.’
4
James blasted a Sith trooper out of the way and, with his men providing covering fire, shoulder rolled behind a pile of rubble. He signalled, and, a moment later, six men joined him. Six. Where was Imram? There he was, lagging behind and shooting smoothly and accurately, as was natural on his native planet of Arrun’nach’itike. Then, James saw him take a hit and go down.
‘Imram, no!’ someone yelled. James saw Rainen dash forward. Tom moved forward as well, but James held him back, just as a hail of blaster fire fell. Rainen went down as well.
‘No men, no!’ James yelled. ‘Avenge their deaths, but not by rushing out and getting yourself killed, but by carrying on firing!’ He returned to his firing, and the whole room flashed, impossibly bright, and a hole appeared in the wall.
‘Alright men, move it!’ He and the remaining five charged out, and tore at break-neck speed towards the Heavens’ Gate, which had just landed. A number of troops hurried down the boarding ramps and opened fire on the Sith. James could hear a lightsaber deflecting bullets and blaster bolts around, and flew up the ramp with his squad. He could then hear Keys, yelling
‘You killed him, you killed him, you monster’, and jumped into a turbolaser turret, shoving aside the rather shocked droid occupant. No Sith or Dark Jedi lightsaber could deflect a turbolaser. He was blown apart. Keys allowed the droid back on, and watched in solemn silence as the 60 turbolaser and 25 ion cannons propelled their destructive energy into the factory, incinerating anything that may have remained. When it was nothing more than a big pile of rubble, the Star Destroyer lifted from the ground, and accelerated away from the planet.
5
Jonathan Keys sat down in the dormitories, waiting for the ship to touch down at Pillase, the last free planet in the universe. Every single known free and living race had nearly all of its’ population at the massive base there, excluding the few groups who decided, or who had to, remain on the planet that was taken from them. Jon sighed as he thought of his wife, Hosina, and his children, Georg and Brishna. He forced his stiff frame to the mirror, and looked at the dark, bloody face staring back at him, on a medium build body. He barely recognised himself. The others were all on the bridge, celebrating, and mourning, but he felt no cheer, only a hollow emptiness where his heart should have been. He washed his face and headed to the turbo lift to get a drink upstairs, but the door to it opened with a whoosh noise and his Sergeant, private Tom Watson, and the joint commander of the UDOR entered, lightsaber at his belt. Jon automatically saluted and bowed.
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