LegendsLog:Dancing With Sith
"The senator will be here soon," remarks Master Valhoun, taking a moment to tuck his datapad into a pouch on his belt. He sniffs a bit and looks around the district. "You'd hardly know we were at war, the way the people are acting. Don't you think?" he asks, looking back over his shoulder at his partner. The two of them are waiting very near a shuttle platform to rendezvous with Senator Jal Hantosa of Naboo.
Master Enkil-Vru-Nasha stands very near the other Jedi Master, his arms crossed over his chest and arms tucked away within the voluminous sleeves of the brown fabric that drape down from each arm. The Cerean's bright green eyes drift across the milling citizens of the district, hmm'ing to himself before his cone-like head dips into a slow nod. "Truly," Enkil muses aloud in reply to his fellow Jedi. "People have a way of ignoring any issues that do not directly impact their day to day lives."
A wry smile creases the features of Enkil as the man's eyes shift back to drift across the face of Master Hart. "Be mindful of the Force... it speaks of the disinterest of the masses. The people seem to be more concerned with their families and jobs than with a war that is pressing on the outer edges of civilization. But yes, one can hardly fault them for it," Enkil says before breaking off to shift his gaze toward the incoming shuttle.
The shuttles repulsor engines whine to life as it sets down a few meters from the Jedi Masters. The side hatch slides open to reveal a Naboo guardsman who disembarks and clears the perimeter before approaching the two of them. "Master Jedi, the senator's ship will be departing from the spaceport in half an hour. If you're ready, we can go ahead and head that way."
"After you," Hart says with a broad smile, tucking his hands into his sleeves and following behind the man to board the shuttle.
Inside the vehicle is a gaunt-looking politician; the aforementioned Jal Hantosa. He regards the two Jedi with only passing attention before his eyes return to the viewports of the vessel.
The Cerean Jedi Master says nothing as he follows along in Hart's wake. With his arms in his sleeves, he simply boards the ship and once aboard slides over to ease himself into a seat. Jal Hantosa receives a polite dip of the Cerean head.
Without delay, the shuttle lifts off of the pad and speeds back into the overhead traffic. "Everything went well on Tyrus, Master Vru-Nasha? I was afraid the negotiations would be doomed to fail, but I wasn't expecting them to end so soon," Hart muses, settling into his seat across from his fellow Jedi.
The Senator remains quiet for the time being, content to just listen to the nuances of Jedi diplomacy.
Enkil dips his head once more, his eyes shifting toward the port side viewport and peering out at the cityscape of Coruscant as the planet begins to wiz by. "Yes, negotiations went better than I had foreseen myself. The Trandoshan aggressors were relieved to be allowed to leave with their lives once the Tyrus military finally zoned in on them."
"The Imperial hold is still too strong there, of course, but patience is key, I think," Hart remarks, hands shuffling within his sleeves as he leans back into the shuttle seat. "Patience is key."
The shuttle carrying the senator of Naboo speeds along its route, taking a momentary detour to avoid congestion. It dips and dives through the entertainment sector, just above the Undercity; as of yet unobstructed in its journey.
Unfortunately, the Senator of Naboo was considered a potential target for either kidnapping or assassination. Likely why the senator had an escort. In the undercity, perched upon the roof of a one of the smaller tenaments, was a man in all black, hood pulled up over his head. An eyeless face was held up towards the sky, 'watching' the shuttle as it drew near. Ripping a shuttle out of the sky was definitely not an easy task, or one likely to succeed, but throwing debris into the engine intake, that was much easier. Silently, he reaches a hand up, taking a deep breath, and a chunk of duracrete flies forth.
Master Enkil nods again and says, "Yes, that is likely close enough to the truth of the matter. But as you say, with patience the situation will unfold before us with the help of the Force." The Cerean draws silent as the shuttle makes a sudden dip to avoid traffic, green eyes peering out of the viewport to the undercity far below. The subtle ripple in the Force is felt as the chunk of duracrete flies upward toward their shuttle, the Cerean closing his eyes briefly, brow furrowing as he seeks to pinpoint the attack. His eyes snap open as the truth of the matter plays out and he calls harshly to the pilot, "Hard to port! We are under attack!”
Unfortunately, Naboo guardsmen don't react quite as quickly as Jedi Masters, so Master Enkil's warning is unheeded. The chunk of duracrete smashes into the engine and shatters, sending smaller shards of hard stone into the workings. This shuttle's going down.
Master Hart takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat, reaching to clip the harness over his chest. "Suggest you do the same," he offers to everyone in the vessel. They all follow in turn.
The small vessel slams into the rooftop of a small restaurant, bursts through the old, unstable building, and crashes harshly into the duracrete streets of the undercity. No doubt scavengers (and who knows what else) are already on their way. The occupants, save for the two Jedi, the senator, and a single Naboo guardsman have all perished upon impact.
A grim smile crosses the Miraluka's face as he 'sees' the effects of his handiwork. The ship was going down, and it was going down fast and not that far away. Calling upon his anger, his hatred, he shadows himself in darkness. "Through power, I gain victory," he says to himself. Before the darkness completely envelops him, he raises a hand and motions for the small squad of soldiers, all dressed in black and carrying rifles to move in. Silently, the small group of assassins not as heavily armored as the typical sith soldier, but operating on Coruscant required more subtle maneuvers.
Bracing himself as the transport comes in to crash, the Cerean Jedi Master has a hand lifted upon the ceiling of the transport and the other gripping the arm rest to attempt and keep his body from jerking as hard into the harness strapped across his chest. As the dust fills the interior of the transport, Enkil coughs and pulls himself to his feet with determination. He struggles back to the hatch and presses the controls to lower the portal so that he might get outside. Someone brought them down, after all, and it has to have been for a reason. Green eyes, watering from the duracrete dust, gaze out across the expanse of undercity and see the assassins coming toward the crashed ship. Pulling his lightsaber from his belt, Enkil powers the blue blade with a hiss and then calls into the transport, "Master Valhoun. We have company out here." Hart Valhoun groans as he goes about unbuckling himself from the seat and stepping outside to stand near his partner. "It would appear so," he remarks, taking a moment to close his eyes and feel their surroundings. "J'rahn," he comments softly. Everyone in the galaxy feels distinct, and when someone feels as twisted and evil as the one who's bearing down on them, now, it's hard to forget them. "Senator, do be so kind as to stay in the shuttle. Following suit, Hart slides his own hilt from his belt and brings it to life, the emerald blade igniting and lighting up their surroundings.
The guardsman shakes himself to action and scrambles inside of the shuttle, moving to slide the hatch closed and readying himself for the worst. [Language: Basic] The six-man squad of assassins moves to surround the shuttle, keeping as best to the shadows as they can while keeping the shuttle in range of their rifles. Meanwile, J'rahn moved through the shadows, drawing closer.
As Hart senses the Miraluka, the Miraluka's own senses pick up on a familiar echo in the force as well. Muttering a curse under his breath, he reaches for his own lightsaber, the smaller, easily concealed hilt fitting his hand perfectly, though not large enough to be wielded two-handed like most. He doesn't ignite the blade, not yet. "Engage," he says in a soft voice, it being heard in the helmets of the squad of soldiers thanks to the commlink in his other hand. Instantly the group level their rifles and begin laying down suppressive fire at the wreckage.
As the blaster fire begins to zip in toward the pair of Jedi guarding the boarding ramp of the transport, Enkil turns his back to place it protectively against that of his Jedi partner, turning his attention toward the assassin's aiming fire on the left side of the ship. He holds his lightsaber at the ready, fearlessly watching as the bolts zip toward them and ready to raise the weapon in defense should it be needed. "Seems as though they are trying to keep us here," he comments over his shoulder toward Hart.
"Maybe they're fans of ours, Master Enkil," Hart says with a cheerful smile, deflecting a few incoming bolts before one manages to sear through the heavy wool robes he's wearing, leaving a small burn on his arm. Taking a moment to shake out of his scorched cloak, he's back at it, again.
Lightsabers were useful tools. They were even noble weapons, but who needed to fight nobly? As he draws near, the soldiers keeping their suppressive fire up, J'rahn reaches up and pulls his hood back. "Send the senator out," he calls out in a bit of a gruff voice. "He is our target, not you, but..." As he speaks, he pulls a grenade from his cloak, his lightsaber still held in his right hand. "I have no problem killing everyone aboard. Send the senator out and I assure you, I will not harm him, simply take him on a little trip." A black veil covers the man's eyes, but he was far from blind. "Do I make myself clear, Jedi?"
Glancing in the direction of the Miraluka as the man calls out to them, Enkil frowns in thought before calling out, "J'rahn, is it? You know that we are not going to step aside and let you take the Senator. How about we decide on another way to work this out in a peaceful manner so that you and your people can just go about on your way?"
"He wants us to negotiate, Master Enkil. Don't be fooled," Hart, remarks, whopping his blade around and arching one of the incoming bolts back toward the soldier that loosed it.
One of the soldiers takes a hit to the shoulder, going down. It does not seem to cause the others to hesitate though, either through brainwashing or disciplined training, they were on target and purpose. "We can take him or kill him, the choice is yours," J'rahn calls out. "Either way, you have ten seconds to decide before we detonate the shuttle with you and the others inside. I'm sure that someone with your skill in the force may survive, but what can you say of the senator, his guard, the pilots, and anyone else aboard that ship? Your ten seconds begin now."
The Cerean glances over his shoulder toward Hart and says with a hint of a smile, "He doesn't seem too keen on negotiations..." He reaches forth his hand, focusing on the grenade held in the hand of J'rahn and attempts to snatch the explosive in the man's hand, but it just is not working for him tonight.
"Fetch the senator," Hart says to his fellow Jedi. "Get them out of here."
With that, the elder master jumps into the fray, engaging the motley crew of Sith assassins.
With a sigh, J'rahn lets go of the grenade, but before it hits the ground it shoots forward towards the fray. The soldiers were expendable, after all. He knew better than to engage a pair of Jedi Masters. He should have known that the Senator would have protection, but he'd assumed a regular guard. Apparently, their intel is better than he'd hoped.
"Another time, Jedi," comes the gruff voice of the Sith. He didn't expect the grenade to kill the Jedi, but maybe he'd get lucky and it would take out the senator. His only real hope was that it would cover his escape.
Jedi Master Enkil-Vru-Nasha nods his head and starts to turn in the direction of the ship as Master Hart leaps into the fray. That movement is ceased as he sees the Miraluka drop the grenade and the explosive zip toward the ship with Force aided speed. Extinguishing his lightsaber with the practiced swipe of a thumb, the Cerean Jedi calls on the Force to protect him, hands clenching into fists at his side as he feels the swirl of energy seem to swirl toward him in a sort of vortex. Never taking his eyes off of the whizzing grenade, Enkil leaps out to intercept the grenade, hoping to catch the object and position it beneath himself upon the ground, both to protect the shuttle and Hart from the explosion.
The older Jedi whips between the soldiers with an uncharacteristic grace for his age. Surely J'rahn knew to expect this once he was made aware of his opponents. A duo of them are run-through and Hart senses his partner's actions as they happen, remaining defensive against the couple of soldiers that are still alive. Saber held between himself and the assassins, the Stewjonian master slowly backsteps toward the shuttle, deciding that chasing the Sith Lord wouldn't be in his best interests at the time. "Are you alright, Master Vru-Nasha?"
It doesn't take long before J'rahn is vanishing into the shadows of the undercity, moving quickly and quietly as only a man with years of training as an assassin can manage. Using the force to mask his presence, the Miraluka begins making his way to the small shuttle that was waiting to take him off of the planet. It did no good lingering on Coruscant.
The soldiers, even knowing they're defeated, continue fighting to the last man, for surrender was never an option. Such things were brainwashed from them as youths.
The Cerean Jedi Master does not quickly get to his feet, so taxing was the strain forced upon him by his flexing of Force ability to shield from such a large blast of energy. Enkil presses himself to his hands and knees first, and then presses himself up into a squat and finally to a standing position. He allows himself to slump back against the ship, confident that Hart is more than capable of dispatching the last few assassins. Instead of joining the fight, Master Enkil closes his eyes and tries to reach out with the force to track the fleeing Sith, his brow furrowing with concentration as he almost catches a trace of the Miraluka and then it's gone. He shakes his head and says, "I lost him. He's gone.”
With a few quick, pointed deflections, the remaining two assassins are down and Master Hart's lightsaber is deactivated. He turns to regard his fellow Master and says, "I can't sense him, either. Perhaps it's for the best." His hilt is clipped back onto his belt and he bends down to grab his cloak, folding it over his arm and moving back toward the shuttle. "Do you have your comm on you? Find a Republic channel and get them to dispatch a shuttle. We've fought our fight for the day."