A Mother's Touch

RISE OR DIE

 The clandestine base was situated in the middle of an obscure region of scrubland twenty clicks from the Dantooine Mining Outpost. Its distance and proximity to Republic-controlled space called for a heavily armed contingent along the perimeter, but Sith were not easily intimidated and often, due to that arrogance, unprepared. A labyrinthine wall separated the docks from the outer yard of storage areas designated for heavy equipment and ground vehicles.

Dense purple clover blanketed the ground beside the outer walls near the private docks. The thick carpet of flowers hid the Stranger's footsteps as he infiltrated deeper into the compound. His heart beat so hard, it resonated in his ears and made it difficult to hear anything else.

As he fought to suppress his presence in the Force, he nearly gave away his physical location behind a security fence. The Stranger ducked back into the night shadows as a duo of guards walked right passed him. They continued into a garage of speederbikes and other vehicles. When the fighting started, he would eventually have to face them. But it was too risky to kill them now and possibly trip the small base's alarm systems.

Trusting in the Force, the Stranger stepped from the shadows and slipped into the interior labyrinth. It was not designed to disorient intruders or lose them, but rather to control numbers in a fight. However, the design was not meant to keep out a well-informed, formidable army of one.

When the Stranger emerged on the inside of the base, a dozen low-level apprentices turned to him, their hands moving to their lightsabers.

He gripped the hilt of his saber with both hands, raised it in a sardonic salute, and ignited the crimson blade. Most Sith apprentices were half-wit herd animals, tragically predictable. Three of them stepped from the group. Their narcissistic scowls designated them as the top of the pecking order. These three had bullied and murdered their way to the top and been rewarded by their masters.

With a laugh that came through the mask like the snort of a bull rancor, the Stranger never broke stride. Feinting toward the fighter to the right, he lunged forward, turned off the lightsaber, spun in a pirouette that hid his hands, reignited the blade, and cut him in half. Still alive, the apprentice's torso slumped to the ground. As the life drained from him, he watched his legs fall on top of him.

The fighter in the middle was too stunned to react. He laid his hand on his hilt, but before the blade could be ignited, the Stranger swung his weapon into an underhand grip and spun back in the opposite direction. He took him down by severing both legs below the kneecap. Screaming in shock and pain, the henchman grasped desperately at his stumps and writhed in pain on the ground.

The third warrior was clearly the lesser ranked of the three. He stood in a dazed silence, leaning toward cowardice after the violent death and maiming of his companions. The swelling terror in his face as he stared into the grinning mask emboldened the Stranger. Too late, the apprentice moved for his lightsaber.

The Stranger spun his saber, cutting the apprentice's hands off at the wrist, and kicked out one of his legs. As the gasping Sith fell to his knees, the Stranger delivered the death stroke, severing his head and then, in completing the powerful swing, he took the head of the second warrior to end his whimpering over his lost legs.

In no order, with no leadership, the remaining mob charged to avenge their fallen. The Stranger grinned behind the mask. Summoning the darker, more sinister side of the Force, he tapped into the sweltering vein of desire. He desperately needed to accomplish this task, not only for himself, but for Osha.

He thought of her as he waded into the melee. The silk touch of her skin. The warmth of her breath. The smile she gave him over breakfast, even when she was not feeling her best. The vulnerability in her eyes when she looked to him as her Master. He was here to kill for her, without question, and he was ready to die for her with no hesitation.

In this moment of irrefutable commitment, the Force answered him with a powerful maelstrom blast. Leaving fissures in the tarmac, the violent explosion shook the ground and rattled the surrounding buildings. The resulting shockwave struck the first line of the mob. Doubled over in the force of the kinetic eruption, the apprentices were thrown backwards an unprecedented ten meters. But the true extent of the damage done was not clear until the dust settled.

Blood and bodily fluids trickled from beneath the piles of twisted bodies. As survivors crawled from beneath the carnage, covered in bone fragments and gore, the Stranger saw that the blast had eviscerated the front line of the charge. He laughed, recognizing the enhanced nature of his power, a result of his connection to Osha.

Hearing the two guards return from the garage, the Stranger parried a lightsaber blow meant for his back. He swung wide, lashing out with his bracer. The fighter to his left stared incredulously as his lightsaber winked out amid a spray of wild sparks. Stabbing him in the chest, the Stranger used Force-push to send his companion back several meters into another group of apprentices, who were emerging from an adjacent hangar bay.

Though he had killed over a dozen of them, the Stranger had barely touched their true numbers. And these were not dogmatic Jedi, who fought by a pretentious code of justice and moral protocol. These sycophants worshipped absolute power, a yearning instilled in them along with the need to be recognized as the strongest, and his death represented an opportunity to rise within the ranks.

"Osha," the Stranger whispered. Her name sounded like a gale-force wind within the confines of the helm. He twisted the lightsaber hilt until he heard the hissing of two emitters when the blades split. There was a moment of saber envy among the apprentices, who paused to admire the weapon before closing in to confront him.

The Stranger initiated the attack, headbutting and disabling one saber, then using his bracer to disengage another. He slit the throats of their wielders without bothering to watch the bodies drop. There was no time. He was outnumbered, forty to one. It was time to fully awaken the connection with his Acolyte, if it truly existed, and test the power of two.

"Osha!"