Versai Chronicles “Deception” - Chapter XIII – Attrition
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – BRIDGE

Draven raises an eyebrow, wondering for a moment why it is taking so long for Kero’s shuttle to arrive his eyes wandering to a scanning platform, running a scan on the Armageddon’s current weapons which appear to have all energy based weapons offline, but oddly enough the shields are raised around the vessels. Draven wonders for a moment if Kero suspects the rebels might make a blaze of glory play and try to take down as many ships as possible in the process of being obliterated.

Smiling confidently, Draven sees Kero’s visual image appear on a view screen before him from the waist up. Nodding with silent respect, he waits for Kero to greet him with news of ego feeding delusions of grandeur.

Kero gazes to Draven, noting his smug look as he glances to his pilots then towards The Shadow Serpents, with all of their cloaks dropped and their Specter fighters hovering in diamond formations, like a the assembly of troops at the great celebration ceremony of ANH.

KERO – (standing confidently) Where is Lord Quillion? I expected his presence on your ship as well.

DRAVEN – Our glorious leader is below on the planet’s surface taking care of Valaryc Versai and his friends within our impervious Killian Citadel.

KERO – (slides his fingers along his chin) What if I were to tell you that The Killian Citadel is not as impervious as you think.

Draven shifts a curious brow for a moment, then responds with a calm retort.

DRAVEN – I’m quite sure our base is safe from any invasion Master Kero, the Luxor Armor plating its structure is quite well protected.

KERO – Unfortunately Admiral Draven, I’m afraid that my forces have found a flaw in the Luxor Armor design.

DRAVEN – (Startled) WHAT! IMPOSSIBLE! As you can see our losses are minimal!

KERO – (grins) Yeah, I can see that you also lost 3 ships as well.

DRAVEN – A minor loss, there were unexpected complications.

KERO – Ah I see unexpected complications huh? Like solid ammunition perhaps?

Draven starts to ponder the shift in Kero’s apparent interest in weaknesses of The Killian resources. Checking up on him, not to be kept out of the loop, Draven calls up the pirated formula for Luxor Armor, this formula reads on his view screen…

Luxor Armor Formula –

One part Permacite,
one part Durasteel,
one part sculpted Transparasteel

Draven smugly beams his findings back to Kero, who still very slowly approaches The Calypso.

DRAVEN – I’ve transmitted the formula as I see it here, what is the meaning of his unfounded scrutiny!

Kero glances to an incoming transmission as he utters something to his pilots driving the shuttle, glancing down at the formula, the grin on his visible lips growing wider by the minute, as he retakes his rigid pose facing Draven’s image on his own monitor.

KERO – Well you see Draven, from what I can tell and what I have been properly informed is that the shipping yards that produced your Luxor Armor botched the formula. They used Dura Armor instead of Durasteel.

DRAVEN – DURA ARMOR! LUXOR ARMOR IS SUPPOSED TO BE IMPENITRABLE!

KERO – Indeed Draven, and I tracked the source of the shipping yards The Killian used for their fleets construction as well.

Draven begins to feel beads of sweat form along his brow, knowing that once Lord Quillion found out that his Admiral had not taken proper measures to ENSURE the correct construction of his mighty fleet, he would suffer the same fate as any other officer who failed a Dark Lord. Hiding his shaken nerves, Draven continues his transmission.

DRAVEN – Where…wh…where were the ships constructed?

Kero’s shuttle now looms even closer to The Calypso picking up some speed as it heads for the lowered hatch along its underside. Kero’s video image parts his lips into an emotionless manner, as if Kero himself would end Draven’s life for his failure.

DRAVEN – Lord Kero? Where were the ships constructed? What shipping yard botched the formula?

Kero begins to slide his hands back towards the sides of his hood, drawing back the fabric as his face remains shrouded in darkness, his red metallic gloves shimmering in the light reflected off The Calypso’s hull.

KERO – Before I answer that question Draven. Do you consider yourself a man of superior intellect?

Draven glances to Kero, seeing the hood coming off but still not able to see Kero’s face as he gives a brisk military salute, dusting off his Killian attire.

DRAVEN – Oh yes of course, why do you ask?

KERO – Well see I can’t figure out something.

Draven continues to dust off his uniform, grabbing a stray hair between his finger pads, barely paying much attention to Kero Fear who now has loomed closer towards the screen, his face beginning to be revealed from his lips and rising.

DRAVEN – (yawns) What is it you can’t figure out Kero?

Kero aboard his shuttle whispers another command to his pilots as he looms even closer to the video monitor, his face fully revealed now, escaping the arrogant vacant eye movements of Draven, surveying the contents of his bridge, growing impatient with Kero’s lack of punctuality.

KERO – Well ya see, I can’t figure out why a dumb ass, arrogant, poodo eating, rear sniffing, brain swelled prick like you can’t figure out what the letters KERO FEAR really spell.

Draven’s eyes suddenly snap at attention as he glares from insults, locking his eyes with the figure of “Kero Fear” on the video screen. This time Draven’s eyes flash with horror as he recognizes the fully revealed face of his redeemer.

DRAVEN – FOE RAKER!

KERO – Bingo…NOW!

Kero or shall we say Foe Raker’s shuttle takes a nose dive straight down from its approach to The Calypso’s lowered ramp, firing a salvo of concussion grenade missiles into its belly. The solid ammo instantly impacts into the Calypso’s vulnerable hull as the “Armageddon” fleet, begins to jettison the cheap panels of metal plates painted black, coated with glass along their hulls and surfaces. The disguise shielding Foe’s fleet from recognition as his “Bloodmoon” insignia flashes on the fleet’s hulls.

The Bloodmoon fleet then opens fire with everything solid based in their arsenal on all of the Killian Shadow Serpents and their fighters. With the botched flaw in their Luxor Armor, the crafts desperately try to escape an onslaught of diamond boron missiles, proton torpedoes, concussion grenades, and missiles having left themselves wide open to attack.

The impacts of the stew of weaponry unleashed by Foe Raker’s fleet bombards and splinters the sections of Luxor armor plating on The Killian warships. With high vulnerability to solid projectiles the impacts hammer the surfaces of 8 Shadow Serpents, shattering the armor plating like shards of glass. Once stripped of their energy beam bouncing capabilities, The BloodMoon fleet opens fire with every turbolaser, ion cannon, and battery in its massive arsenal, targeting not the Liberation fleet but every single Shadow Serpent desperately trying to retreat the battle field.

In literally minutes the tide is turned, and the Killian fleet once in control is reduced to rubble, with only The Calypso remaining fairly undamaged but hopelessly outmatched. Foe’s shuttle during the melee arrives inside the hanger bay to The Vindicator, as Foe Raker makes his presence known on Lance’s bridge.
 

INTERIOR:  “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

Foe Raker wastes no time marching his way across the bridge, whipping off the Royal Guard attire to reveal his black and gold flamed armor plating, Val had created for him many years back. Along his back are his famous Ryyk blades, and a lightsaber dangles at his hip. Foe is as impressive as ever, a highly muscular physical physique with a shaven head and straight lined brows as well as neatly trimmed gray beard. His brown eyes look to Lance on his left as he gazes straight ahead. (Vin Diesel)

LANCE – Greetings I…..(cut off)

Foe raises his hand sternly towards Lance, and then paces to the biggest window he can find.

FOE – (holding up one hand) No…shut up.

LANCE –  Ermm ok.

FOE – You’re gonna love this…
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – BRIDGE

Draven, gazes towards an enormous hunk of metal hurling en route to The Calypso launched from Nintura. With its engines offline, he sees the behemoth shell loom closer and closer, eclipsing the vessel in its size. Seconds later, the view switches to outside of Draven’s flagship as a scale comparison of a pistachio sized ship faces an object the size of a baseball. The massive weapon released from the Nintura is ordinarily used to knock out shields, but in this case it’s a very fast, very powerful baseball about to meet a very fragile bat.

Draven is hurled across the deck of his bridge as a “Mass Driver” Shell weighing 5000 metric tons slams head first into his ship. The impact not only shatters the Luxor Armor off every inch of the vessel from the tremendous vibrations, but also forces Draven to run for his life as the entire front end of the Shadow Serpent is crunched in like a tin can, all the way to the very back where the flared hood of the vessel lies. Draven runs at breakneck speed, using the force to escape the walls closing in around him, the Calypso knocked head first, spiraling towards Xyquine’s atmosphere as its rear now becomes its front, glowing red hot as it enters the heavily cloud covered terrain.
 

EXTERIOR:  XYQUINE  – “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

Foe glances to Lance a moment, and then speaks to him…all business for the moment.

FOE – Where is your communications link?

Lance gestures to the button along his left, as Foe strides over to the button with a broad smile on his lips, beaming his communications signal directly through the rear of the plummeting Calypso.

FOE – Yeah that’s right punk! You wanna mess with my brother, you wanna screw with his company? I’ve wanted to shut your trap up for months! Enjoy the ride jackass!

Lance can’t help but burst into mixed laughter. It was all as clear as black and white now, there were no more shades of gray. Foe Raker as Kero Fear had done exactly what Quillion had done to VT, he had his FRD staff pose as moles in Quillion’s organization! Of course it was so simple! Foe couldn’t speak to Lance earlier because he was disguised as Kero Fear. He needed his fleet to surprise Draven for just this moment. Apparently then Foe had been playing along with Quillion’s game and having trained with Val years ago and perfected his training he was shielding Quillion from reading his mind. FDR was the shipping yard The Killian were constructing their ships in and Foe being trusted as Kero Fear made sure that the Luxor Armor was botched!

Foe slowly runs his fingers along his bare head, then turns to face Lance, for the first time speaking to him directly as an ally and not a man giving orders. Crossing his rune covered, exposed muscular forearms along his chest.

FOE – You’re President Jade I take it. Sorry I couldn’t have aided you earlier, I needed to keep that fool’s trust I couldn’t risk compromising my position. Quillion is that dumbass prick from our training in the Dark Jedi Academy.

LANCE – But who else is there? I received a signal from Sacul earlier that Crymson Vachon is dead, and its not you or Val so who is left? Wait…you don’t mean…

FOE – (growls) DAMN IT! I WANTED TO KILL THAT BITCH MYSELF! I know who Quillion is Lance and yeah, it’s him.

LANCE – How? I thought Val killed Cire T’Negun years ago?

FOE – Right now Lance, I don’t have the answers, all I can say for sure is that my brother down there needs a lot of help and he needs it fast. I can feel his force signature fluctuating.

LANCE – He’s spoken to you too?

FOE – Come on Lance, I know you got more brains then Draven down there. Think about what he told you and why.

Lance closes his eyes a moment, taking great joy seeing the remains of decimated Shadow Serpent’s hovering outside his view port as he recalls Val’s words, again oblivious to the obvious he nods in understanding to Foe.

LANCE – He knew who you were before Draven did.

FOE – Exactly, but enough chit chat man, we got work to do. Val’s seriously hurtin and his battle ain’t over yet. We need to find that Citadel and take it down.

Suddenly a crimson beam fires from The Citadel, tracking the nearest ship engulfing four Nebula battle cruisers. Foe glares out the window then locks his brown stare on Lance, demanding an explanation to why four of his ships were just demolished.

LANCE – BY ALDERAAN’S FATE! THAT THING IS STILL OPERATIONAL!

FOE – What “thing”?

LANCE – Cire has constructed himself a superlaser…don’t ask me how but its energy burst is red not green.

Foe looks towards Lance then down at the purple aura of Xyquine’s surface. He paces over to a sensor monitor and taps in a few buttons, he also orders his fleet from the com unit.

FOE – (com) I want a full scale scan of that planet, I want to know its surfaces, structures, life forms, even its freaking weather report!

A little bit of time passes and Foe receives a reply back from several of his Rear Admirals. The news is not pleasant but manageable.

STAFF – (com) Sir, its impossible to get any clear trajectory of the surface, the clouds are too dense and seem to be deflecting our sensors and scanners, we can’t see anything beyond orbit.

Foe looks for the nearest control console of little importance, swiftly slamming his fist through the steel grating as buttons and switches go flying in all directions, a sputter of sparks erupting like a wielder’s torch to steel. Craning his gaze back towards Lance, Foe composes himself and continues.

FOE – All we can do right now, is lend Val our strength Lance. I don’t know what’s going to happen but there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. I suggest we be prepared if there is any break in the situation and plan out a full surface assault.

Lance nods complacently as he thumbs his fingers over the com switch, the signal being directed to Destiny’s Light.

LANCE – Marc, Kalin, and other men of value. I suggest you board a shuttle and join myself and Foe Raker on Vindicator; we need to have a meeting. Get here as swiftly as possible.

Marc on Destiny’s Light acknowledges the transmission as he, Kalin, and a heavily armed security task force, make their way down a series of corridors and turbolifts. Swiftly they pile into a Lambada Class shuttle and depart the MC-90, heading towards Vindicator.
 

INTERIOR: SHADOW SERPENT CALYPSO – REAR HATCHES

While Foe and Lance gather their forces on Vindicator, drifting through space, in a streaking ball of orange light, The Calypso looms closer and closer to the surface. The bow of the vessel inches its way closer to lavender leaved trees and heads deeper and deeper across a snow covered landscape. Draven can only watch through a smaller window in the rear of his crunched in flagship, as it plummets at great speed downward. His mechanical hand slowly creeps upward, his body having been through turmoil during his dash to the safest part of the doomed vessel. He had struck his head hard on a fallen strut of metal, then was sent spiraling across the floor as a series of wall panels flew off their foundations hitting his body so hard, his ribs were broken instantly. Still the busted ribs did not pierce his vital organs, and Draven limped across the floor towards a communications alcove. His leg had been snapped like a twig, and his glorious Killian attire was now stained with his blood, leaking from his many, many torn wounds. The fabric shredded, torn and ripped clean off in some areas as he attempted to salvage his pride.

With a shaky finger he presses down a button, and speaks into a mic, the signal being beamed directly into the bridge of The Vindicator SSD.

DRAVEN – (shaky)I re…..regret….nothing…Lance Jade. I have…served…my…purpose in this world…no matter what…what happens…your history must….must remember…for all time…the brilliance of…of…my military…strategy…in your records…I have attained…

Draven shifts his eyes slowly out the view port of the window as he sees the rear of the Calypso heading straight for a cliff side covered in snow rising to the heavens above. No where to go and no way to escape, Draven smiles wickedly shortly before the impact crushes the engines of his prized vessel.

DRAVEN – (looking to the mountain) Immortality…*****

The signal cuts off as Draven’s last image before The Calypso suffers the full brunt of the cliff side is the fires of hell closing in on him. The fuel cells of the Calypso ignite as the wrecked ship slams full on into the cliff’s surface. With flames erupting, shrapnel flying, and sections of metal twisting and groaning, enveloped by one last finishing blaze of hellfire, The Calypso meets its end along with its captain in a shower of flying debris and red-orange destruction.

Lance, Marc, and Foe cannot see exactly what happens to Draven on the surface through the cloud cover but they don’t need to dwell on his last words long to figure out the last of Quillion’s fleet personal had reached his end. Not taking the time to even pause for a moment of silence to care about Draven’s last dying bravado the trio, along with Kalin Starblade, plan out there next course of action…waiting for a sign.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

Seeing Kero’s deception revealed in a blaze of destruction, flaunted across the screen, Cire’s blood boils and he glares down towards Corrie, whom stops just before the catwalk below. Seeing Val out of the corner of his eye, Cire evades a incoming downward blow, as Val send’s the Sith Sword clean through the railing of the catwalk support beam. Channeling his unfathomed hatred into his pulsing veins, Cire attempts to nail Corrie with a eruption of deadly Shard lighting from his outstretched palm.

Corrie however is wise to Cire’s tactics having observed them for the last couple hours, weaving her way clear of the deadly icy blue projectiles. Training her aim just right on Cire’s hand, she opens fire with her single blaster. Cire screams in utter agony as a shot tears through his wrist, just below his grip on Val’s lightsaber causing him to drop the weapon as it plummets to the floor below with a CLANG.

Val’s saber was highly durable however and even from such a drop with enhancements in technology, it was still full functionable as Corrie walked over and picked it up, clipping it to a riveted hook on her belt. With the force guiding her strength now, healing her body, she had another purpose in mind clutching something she knew would give Val the psychological advantage he so desperately needed, especially since Cire was now unarmed and unable to properly use his left hand.

CORRIE – HEY VAL! I GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU!

Val’s vision clears up as he gazes downward to Corrie’s clutched grasp around something he very much recognizes. His eyes directed between her and Cire. Giving Cire another swift kick to the ribs, buying him some time to recover, Val slams the Sith Sword, blade first into the floor of the catwalk, telling it rest as he arches his outstretched hand out to Corrie’s item.

Gazing downward to Corrie’s hand as she threw up the item, Val locked his eyes on the soothing comfort of his signature battle garb. Flying through the air and directly into his clenched fist was his long black sleeveless trench coat. Now feeling a bit more like his usual self, despite still being in Cire’s menacing battle suit, Val’s eyes blaze with a new desire for victory. Swirling the coat around his shoulders, looping one arm through each of the sleeveless rims, his brown eyes stare a hole straight through Cire’s soul as he feels the force supercharge within his veins, grabbing the Sith Sword once more with a powerful jerk.

Cire seeing Val somewhat back in his usual battle attire, watches the coat billow outward like a black cobra hood. Horrified by images from the past, he quickly reaches down to his belt remembering that he still had one last weapon at his disposal.

CIRE – (unclipping a lightsaber) Do you remember this little number Val?

Val’s lips are in a straight lined emotionless gaze as he brings his sword upward along his left side, holding the weapon in both hands by the metallic ribbed hilt, his eyes craning devilishly to a green shaft of light emitting from Cire’s last resort. All of a sudden, in his concentrated stare, Val recalls where he has seen this particular lightsaber’s design before, having gotten a closer look at the hilt and the signature shroud.

VAL – I’ve seen that weapon before Cire, but now that I have my coat back and my will to win, even with your last resort, you have no more mental advantages over me.

CIRE – You’re father wanted you to have this when you were old enough. A pity Russel Versai was struck down by Krevlin before he could give this to you. Then again the Versai have always seemed to come up…short handed.

VAL – I’LL SHOW YOU SHORT HANDED YOU SILVER HAIRED FREAK!

Val unleashes a flurry of swings from the Sith Sword in his hand, as Cire tries to block each killing blow, clashing off the emerald green hiss of Russel’s lightsaber. Cire’s eyes flash with equal intentions as Corrie stares below, pulling back the trigger to her blaster but this time, the weapon having reached its capacity limits as she chucks the gun across the floor, watching Val teeter close to the dark side, as she feels his hatred building.

CORRIE – (telepathic) Don’t let him win Val, don’t give in to hate…you can beat him this time but you have to trust in your skill not your anger.

Val glares down towards Corrie, then flashes his brown eyes towards Cire. Indeed the dark side was trying to get inside Val’s psyche as his eyes shifted to blood red, and a invisible wind began to ripple his brown locks in a frenzy, his coat billowing viciously with the power of his swings against Cire’s green deflections. Val was giving in now, no longer caring how he succeeded in his goal. Cire was looking into a mirror now, not too long ago it was Val using the lightsaber against his Sith Sword, trying to repel Cire’s dark side induced blows…this time the roles were becoming reversed and Cire saw his own reflection in Val’s blood red orbs…and for the first time in his life, he feared what he had allowed himself to become, channeled through Val’s body…Cire had grown incredibly powerful but that power was now being transferred to a demon of his own creation. Cire wanted Val to snap and give in to his dark destiny so badly but never had he conceived the monster that he had unleashed, nor could he control its fury.

Val was relentless in his aggravated assaults, his eyes devoid of any compassion as he swung harder and harder against Cire’s lightsaber. The impact is so intense that each time Val connects with Cire’s blade, Cire swears the bones in his fingers and wrist will fracture from the vibrations. Cire desperately attempts to keep control over his position, but he is powerless to stop Val’s incredible strength, the power of each forward drive forces Cire further and further back across the catwalk as he does the only sensible thing he can think of making a mad dash for the right side of the room.

VAL – YOU CAN’T RUN FROM ME CIRE, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN WITH ALL OF MY ANGER, ALL OF MY VENGEANCE, AND MAKE YOU PAY WITH ALL OF MY SUFFERING! YOU WILL FEEL MY PAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME COWARD!

Corrie’s heart thumps hard in her chest as she hears Val’s words…the only time she’s ever heard such tone in his voice or seen his “transformation” from the Val the savior of the people, to Val the slayer was when he lost it battling Agen. She could feel him slipping further and further down the path to the dark side. The power of his rage was so intense that Marc, Lance, and Foe soon also felt his emotion raging through his hatred enraptured body.

CIRE – Val, calm down! You’re going to give youself a heart attack!

VAL – I HAVE NO HEART TO BREAK CIRE, ALL I WANT TO DO IS SEE YOU BLEED!

Cire dashes down the catwalk, looking for a means to escape. He still had Russel’s lightsaber in his favor, as Val ran with blinding speed, his coat whipping around him as he quickly closed distance with Cire. Bringing his sword down with another intense slice to Cire’s midsection, Cire brought his emerald blade upward, blocking the blow. With their blades locked as they have been many times before, this time Val is the one in the position of unbridled power. Even with both hands, one of while riddled with intense pain, Cire is driven to know knees, trying to lean against the downward pressure of his own Sith Sword, the strength of Val’s hatred off the charts as he forces Cire to struggle to hold the shimmering, razor sharp edge from striking him and sending the vibrating emerald blade from burning into his face.

Somewhere deep inside Val’s psyche, Val begins to hear a familiar voice boom to him. His hatred flowing through his body, and his sense of control trying to overtake it, Val begins to loosen his assault on Cire’s saber, applying pressure but slowly lifting it as his mind battles the seduction of the dark side, directly through the words of his brother.

FOE – (telepathic) Val I can sense you edging closer and closer to damnation brother. Hear me, heed my words because if you snap its all gonna be over in the end. I know you are hurtin Val but you have to listen to me, look at yourself. Look what you’ve allowed that punk to do to you!

Other voices begin to add to Foe’s mental projection, as Lance reaches out with the force to help in the recovered efforts. The power of Val’s rage is so intense, even Lon Wol on route to Xyquine can feel the anger burning through Val’s tattered body.

LANCE – (telepathic) I can see what is happening Val. Look at Cire, look at yourself. Do you not see that by giving in you’re becoming what you hate in the first place? You have to find another way my friend, there is another answer…search your feelings.

Lon Wol puts the Night Stalker on auto pilot as he too uses the force to contact his Master.

LON – (telepathic) You always told me how easy it is to walk down the dark path Master Val. You saved me from where you’re heading now. I can feel the same intensity inside you that once burned inside me. You saved me from an eternity of bloodshed and vengeance. Now I’m going to do the same for you Master, do you remember what you told me after you bested me in combat when I was consumed by the darkness?

Val’s eyes flicker from red to brown as he glares down to Cire, panting for his life almost curled up in a fetal position as he keeps his lightsaber up, holding back the Sith Sword from reaching his fragile form. Even though Cire possessed the ability to head quickly, it played no such graces on a over exertion of his strength. Combined with his consistent use of the dark side, it began to take its price for its service in his hands, draining Cire of his endurance, as intense pain began to emanate from every pore of his body.

Defying the power of his genetic youth, the dark side also began to sap Cire’s lifeforce, causing his facial features and body to begin to show wrinkles and start to wither his body, his years catching up to him turning his skin as flexible and pale as Palpatine’s long ago in a time far gone past. The dark side lost faith in its instrument of destruction it would appear, robbing him of his edge as each minute ticked by forcing Cire to sit and wait for Val’s final crushing blow.

Val was momentarily distracted as memories from his past flashed through his mind like a rapid slide show, among them was the answer to Lon’s question as his lips spoke far before his mind was aware.

VAL – (staggering) Walk away...I told you Lon…walk away.

Lon within his X-Wing screeching through hyperspace closer to Xyquine smiles broadly inside his vessel, knowing Val finally was listening to reason. Indeed at the moment Val had defeated Lon at his strongest moment, the dark side still not powerful enough to grant him victory…Val had told him “walk away” and through a an agonizing trial of personal self improvement, he did walk away. Knowing Val contained the potential to turn himself cold turkey on one instant rather then a series of days, Lon felt the hatred inside Val break. Foe Raker aboard Vindicator also felt the grip of the dark side slip on Val’s soul. Corrie gazing down below noticed the Val’s eyes flickering from red, to a steady brown. The intense winds of the dark side no longer billowing his coat or whipping his brown locks about. The room fell deadly silent, save for the hum of Cire’s saber.

However as quickly as Val came to his senses Cire refused to give in to defeat. With a stunning uppercut, he sent his blade racking across Val’s already injured thigh. Screaming in utter frustration Val was no longer consumed by the dark side, but he was rightfully pissed off as he ran his finger along the fresh burn across his left thigh. Looming his brown eyes back upon Cire who curved the corners of his lips back into his sinister joker like grin, Val wrapped both hands around the hilt of the Sith Sword and instead of swinging with the blade, he pivoted on right foot, in a 180 spin before Cire could track his movements. Suddenly Cire felt the Sith Sword cleave across his wrist, nearly severing his hand. The shock of the slice gives him no pain but as the nerves of his tendons are severed by Val’s corner swipe, Cire loses the grip on his last line of defense as Russel’s lightsaber extinguishes, joining its predecessor as Corrie quickly grabs the relic, clipping it to her other hip holding the weapons out of Cire’s line of vision.

Cire’s hand was now paralyzed and his right wrist wasn’t much better, feeling the injury of Corrie’s blaster bolt passing through his wrist not long ago. Completely unarmed and at Val’s mercy, Cire calls out to the dark side for one last ounce of strength, his power building inside as he channels every one of his midi chlorines within his body.

Suddenly Val feels a large piece of metal slam into his back from behind, knocking him to the floor, his grip on the Sith Sword still in tact as the blade shears into the floor, holding the weapon upright. Cire cackles ominously as Val cranes his eyes skyward, getting back to one knee.

Corrie sees exactly what is going on but as she tries to cry out to warn Val her voice is drowned in the piercing electrical cries of Shard lighting fired so intensely and maliciously they no longer appear ice blue but a dark crimson red. Val can feel the hatred in Cire’s attack as the shard lighting shears clean through his battle suit like shards of glass, each laceration sapping Val’s strength as he struggles against the crimson onslaught, getting to his other knee staring at Cire standing in front of him.

What Corrie was trying to warn Val of, but had no vocal communication or telepathic communication with him was not what Cire’s lightning was doing, but where it was coming from that she was pretty sure Val was not aware of as his body absorbed the maximum amount of pain possible.

Val staggers to stand fully grabbing Cire’s Sith Sword from the floor of the catwalk, seeing Cire’s outstretched hands, and widely dropped jaw screaming at him. With his last bit of strength, he primes the Sith Sword to lunge forward but then he changes his mind. Seeing Cire before him gives him déjà vu of when Cire was about to be engulfed in flames…suffering misdirection this time Val does not let his emotions overtake his logic.

The intense pain he felt was not coming from his chest or his thighs, it was coming across his back and BEHIND his thighs. Focusing his mind and gazing clearly towards Cire standing in front of him, it is then and only then he notices that the scars on Cire’s cheek from Gen’s lightsaber were on the WRONG side.

VAL – No…not this time.

Cire’s eyes flash with teal hatred as he stands in front of Val hurling his Shard lighting from his fingertips but Val does not swing his last ditched attack forward. Quickly guiding his movements and trusting in the force like so many other great Jedi before him, he spins Cire’ Sith Sword backward, hearing Cire’s scream thunder through his ears then begin to fall silent as Val’s weapon pierces through fabric, flesh, bone and Cire’s lung.

Corrie had seen where Cire truly was. The image in front of Val was Cire’s Doppleganger, but this time fate played a different card, Cire did not escape with little injury. He glared down towards his mother’s Sith Sword lodged between his ribs, cackling to Val maliciously as blood poured from his lips as internal bleeding set in. The image of his dark side twin evaporates in dwindled spindles of light.

Val slowly turns around to face Cire, whom has dropped to his knees from the lack of strength in his body. As Val’s brown eyes gaze to the fate awaiting his most hated rival, the battle finally reaching a dramatic conclusion he withdrawls the Sith Sword twisting the blade inside Cire’s pierced shell.

Chocking on his own blood, Cire is still able to make his witty remarks.

CIRE – (coughing) Go on Val, finish it…

VAL – For all the suffering you have given me, for all the pain you have inflicted on my friends and most of all for the justice of Gen Zeridian, prepare to be sent to eternity. This game is done!

Val recoils the Sith Sword back in one hand, seeking to send one powerful slash to Cire’s neckline, beheading him. However Cire pulls out one last trick from his hat.

CIRE – PERHAPS BUT I WILL NOT BE TRAVELING ALONE!

From Cire’s injured right hand, a series of claws shear through the flesh of his fingertips, as he lunges towards Val revealing a cybernetic hand, slashing him across the chest, in vertical lines. Since Val’s sword arm is out of position to escape the blow, he takes the full impact of Cire’s clawed swipe as four gashes form lines of crimson along his attire. The metallic shards emerged from Cire’s fingers glisten from the roaring fire off a fire pit just below the catwalk to the far right of him.

Val suddenly feels his body go numb, dropping the Sith Sword so quickly, it bounces off the floor of the catwalk, and then falls blade first towards Corrie who leaps out of the way as the blade embeds itself into the floor of the throne room down to its toothed guard.

CIRE – Oh….yes….Val…your…going….to…join…me. (coughs hard, struggling to breath) These…claws have…infected you…with a…binary…toxin.

VAL – (coughing heavily, weakened to his knees) It…won’t…be…enough…to…prevent me…from…finishing…you…off.

CIRE – (coughs and laughs) HA HAH….(laughing weakly) The first…part…or the toxin…was from…the trident launchers…that blinded your…vision, the second…injection from…these claws…will shut…down…your…systems…one…by…one…there is…no…cure.

Val draws every last bit, every shred, every ounce of his remaining vitality into his body, forcing it beyond all logical boundaries to stand up, grabbing Cire by the throat with one hand as he reaches into his belt, pulling a small cylinder from a hidden compartment.

VAL – NO TRICKS! NO LIGHTSABERS! NO SWORDS! NO FORCE POWERS CIRE! I’VE BEEN SAVING THIS FOR JUST THIS ONE MOMENT!

CIRE – (cackles) Enjoy it while…it…lasts…Master.

Val feels the toxins spreading rapidly through his bloodstream but he remains stubborn on his mission, grabbing a last remaining Cryroban grenade into his hand, holding his thumb down on the trigger to arm it, he has only one place he wants to put it.

VAL – IT’S TIME I SHUT YOU UP FOR GOOD!

CIRE – WHAT THE???

Val grabs the Cryroban grenade and promptly places it in Cire’s mouth, then sends a tremendous uppercut into his jaw as an electronic whine goes off, shattering his teeth in the power of his punch.

VAL – CHILL OUT!

Seconds later as Cire’s body flies off the catwalk, the grenade in his mouth ignites and the Cryroban grenade flash freezes his body in one swift icy blue pulse of energy, instantly crystallizing his form as Cire plummets all the way back to the left firepit, which was extinguished earlier by Val’s force push flipping out of its mouth as Cire’s frozen skeleton hurls downward into the pit sending the echo of shattering body parts crackling through the throne room, his body fracturing into pieces inside the pit as Terra swiftly limps her way over to the pit and gazes down into it.

TERRA – Burn in Korriban Uncle…

Using the force, Terra re-ignites the left firepit as Cire’s remains are reduced to ashes in the a blaze of orange and yellow. The inferno ending any hope Cire has of resurrecting any portion of his body as Val glances from atop the catwalk, then staggering down a ramp, he loses his balance, toppling head over heel to the ground floor on the left side of the room.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (RIGHT SIDE)

As Corrie and Terra run towards Val’s aid, they are suddenly struck from behind as unique purple twirling tentacles of lighting slam headlong into their backs. The twirling energy comes from the right side of the throne room, as it begins to act like two hands, wrapping around Corrie and Terra like a viper, hurling both of the women in opposite directions. Corrie is sent spiraling into the far left wall of the room, while Terra is hurled into the steps leading up to the dais.

Val cannot see exactly what is going on as he faces his back towards the onslaught, hearing both girls crying out in shock and utter agony. It is then that he notices on the left side of the room, that something was now out of place.

As Val struggles to breath feeling the poison in his bloodstream infect his mobile system, leaving him numb along the floor, motionless he can see a shadow creeping up behind him. He hears a tinkling of metal then a snapping hiss as he sees the figure draw even closer.

Behind Val standing silent, rising like a harpie from hell, the fully reanimated corpse of Agen T’Negun stands ready. Gen Zeridian’s personal lightsaber is ignited in her left hand as she steps closer towards Val. Her eyes are not purple but blood red as she speaks towards her prey.

AGEN – For years, hours, and now finally minutes I have waited and watched for this one single moment son of Russel and Kathryn.

VAL – (turning his head with difficulty) A….Ag…Agen?

Agen slopes her brows as she steps closer. The flechettes were no longer presently embedded into her skin as she stood before him. There was no visable damage anywhere on her body, save for the shredded portions of her attire and the pinholes dotting her blood stained, gray jumpsuit.

AGEN – No…not some useless clone, someone much more appropriate.

VAL – No…its not possible! There is no way you could ever…

Agen’s red eyes glisten as she licks her lips sadistically inching closer and closer to Val, having closed distance to one foot between he and herself. Agen rolls her neck from one side to the other flexing her closed fist in one hand, the other holding Gen’s lightsaber down at a sloped forty-five degree angle before continuing her perplexing dialogue.

AGEN – I allowed Cire to create Gen Zeridian’s clone for one purpose, and it was never for his benefit or to grant his pathetic jealous antics. Being it is impossible to clone my own DNA, while you and Cire wasted your breath dueling one another I was drawing my power…calling the darkest, deepest powers of the dark side to my aid even as a spirit.

VAL – Vachon? Is this why you abandoned your advice to your son?

Agen nods slowly, flashing her blood red orbs towards the last known surviving member of the Versai family, save for Isis trapped in carbonite unknown to her that Isis was Val’s sister Sara.

AGEN – (grinning) Yes I possessed this genetically enhanced body once the consciousness of “Agen” expired. You killed her body and stopped her heart boy, but as long as her brain still functioned…even damaged I was able to take up residence, restore the damage and move right in. All of her force abilities, strengths, and agilities are now mine to command.

VAL – So you finally get…your wish do you? Wrapping up the deeds of “The Curse” once and for all?

AGEN – That is the idea. You see while Cire wasted his breath, I manipulated him into doing everything for the purposes of returning to the world of mortals to finish what your father started. You boy, are the last link between Versai and I, the eldest member of the T’Neguns. You will pay for the sins of your father and FINALLY the Versai will be finished.

Not wanting to cloud his thoughts with a quick rebuttal to Vachon, pointing out that Sara was still alive Val was at death’s door now. Thanks to Cire’s poison, Val was little by little, no matter how hard he tried to resist it succumbing to the lethal proprieties of the binary toxin. Vachon had Val right where she wanted him…there was no chance, no possible conceivable way with Corrie and Terra motionless on the floor, Val could move out of the way of Agen’s finishing strike.

Vachon flexed the muscles in her body, cracking her neck as she jerked it to one side, beaming her bloodlust filled eyes towards Val, seeing Russel in his place, the very location of the Killian Citadel fading away in a computer generated effect into the Courtyard where Russel sent Vachon to her grave. With his lover’s weapon poised to strike, Agen slowly began to slide her arm back, drawing Gen’s purple lightsaber for the conclusive journey of The Curse’s desire.
 

INTERIOR – THE KILLIAN CITADEL – BIOTECH LABORATORY

The scene opens up in the very recognizable hallway just outside the Biotech cloning facility where a machine used to craft the ultimate mate and weapon for its Lord Quillion appears to have taken on a will of its own, or at the very least has lost a vital gear in its normal purposes. The room once filled with intense bolts of purple energy now falls deathly silent. Fog billows from beneath the cloning tube marked “Project Proteus” as the body within awaits its arrival.

Suddenly there is a flash of icy blue energy as a series of wires attached to the unit are swiftly blown off their connectors, as air floods from the tubes, causing them to sputter and spin out of control. The body inside Project Proteus unexpectedly thrusts its male fist through the glass of the door, as the pieces clatter to the floor. There in silhouette only is the youthful figure of a male. His eyes flash open instantly as he gazes around the room with eyes, never before used.

A wicked smile curls along his lips as he steps out of the unit, across the fallen bodies collected on the floor of previous living beings who met their end at the hands of the “haunted” cloning machine. It appears fate may not be in the the light side of the force this day for just as quickly as his he had meant his end…

Cire T’Negun walks again…

Project Proteus was his backup plan just in case he had to sacrifice himself to end Val’s life. With his brilliance in place, Cire’s teal blue eyes glance around the dark, dampened room. Gazing to his right he spots a container, walking over to find another set of his fabulous “Quillion” attire neatly prepared for just the moment he would need it. Wasting little time he puts on the black pants and shirt, then confidently adjusts his dual silver dragon suit coat around his shoulders.

CIRE – It’s good to be back home again…

Would destiny truly allow Cire to after all of the battles all of the fighting, walk again? The answer soon approached Cire as he arched his brow, looking skyward hearing a slight clang of metal approaching his direction.

Cire directs his attention to a air vent just above him. Using his newly developed, genetically planted force abilities he watches and waits for the exact moment when the metallic clutter is at its loudest, then shears off the air vent grating with a directed force pull, as a cylinder object falls to the floor with a booming jangle of metallic impact.

It was Obi Wan’s second lightsaber. Between the fighting and its journey through a maze of pipes and a series of chutes, the weapon had somehow arrived from the throne room ten floors above Cire, to his very doorstep. Cire’s lips curled at the delicious irony of the situation.

Leaning down to one knee, he bends over and picks up the legendary relic, inspecting the moderate damage done to the base of the black base, and dings in the handle. Still appearing quite useable, he hears a sound coming from the door. Snapping his attention towards the noise, he can see a figure draped in a blue robe swiftly slip outside of the room. Apparently who ever it was had just missed Cire’s triumphant rebirth.

Cire holds Obi Wan’s lightsaber in his grasp as he pursues the intruder in blue, making his way towards the door. Before he can exit the room however, the figure stops suddenly and turns around,  pulling down the blue hood shielding its identity.

Cire’s teal eyes widen once more, even more shocked then anything he faced against Val or the decimation of his master plan as he gazes dead on into the eyes of the intruder.

CIRE – NO! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! IT’S NOT POSSIBLE!

Cire’s lip quivers in fear as he clutches the lightsaber in his left hand, keeping his finger steady on the trigger and the figure smiles softly in the shadows before replying to his bewildered remark.

FIGURE – In the chaos you have created…you must suspend disbelief. By your own hand, you will face attrition.

CIRE – THE ONLY THING YOU ARE GOING TO FACE IS THE END OF MY BLADE!

Cire presses the ignition button on Obi Wan’s lightsaber, but oddly enough the sky blue blade does not emerge from the hilt. He presses the button again and again and still nothing happens. Slowly though, Cire can hear in tune with the beating of his heart as the figure redraws the hood over its head and continues along its path, the steadily rising shriek of an electrical component inside the hilt.

With a slow tilt of his head downward, he looks down to Obi Wan’s lightsaber, hearing the tone getting louder and louder, growing in its harmonics and intensity. Running his finger over the ignition switch of the weapon, Cire places the lightsaber hilt at a slight angle, staring down, craning his eyes towards its metallic surface…there is shock in his eyes as he realizes what is happening now and he knows there is no escaping the fire this time…no rematch, no appeal.

Shifting his gaze back towards the doorway, knowing full well who the figure is, as the electrical whine grows louder and louder, he utters what he knows are his final words.

CIRE – It all makes sense now, you were right…by my own hand…I’m finished.

Shifting to an internal look at Obi Wan’s lightsaber we can see the main power cell is highly unstable and many of the wires running under the casing of the weapon are severed, and melted away. It’s obvious that the lightsaber in its old age suffered immense internal damage as a series of sparks starts from the bottom end of the cell, then streaks upward into the shaft, towards misaligned crystals that are not in position to focus the intense discharge into a shaft of vibrating light, but instead send the energy beam generated directly back towards the power cell causing a chain reaction.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (RIGHT SIDE)

Agen prepares her final blow as Gen’s saber reaches twelve o’clock. Abruptly she holds her swing back and hears a rumbling coming from beneath the floor. Attempting to carry through her swing, she is knocked back by a powerful jolt, as if an earthquake was rocking The Killian Citadel from beneath Xyquine’s tectonic plates. Her saber misses Val by a few inches as her finger accidentally switches off the beam as she tumbles to the far right of him.

The powerful rumbling below all of the occupants of Killian Throne room knocks everyone off balance, as a bulge begins to protrude from the center of the throne room, seconds before a titanic sized beam of blinding white light erupts like a volcano from the bowels of the Citadel, through the onyx floor clear up into the ceiling and quickly blasts through and shatters the crystals of the CrimsonEye superlaser, as well as instantly vaporizing most of the Citadel roof. A gaping hole of pure light erupts in a steady massive beam from below as deck by deck, floor by floor chain reactions rumble through the Citadel, shattering, twisting, and completely annihilating everything in sight in massive fireballs of death and destruction.

The beam of energy is so intense that it provides the signal Foe, Marc, and Lance have been waiting on, appearing as a solar flare on Xyquine’s surface, discharging its radiance into space like a massive lighthouse as the trio quickly triangulate on the source…and find their destination.

The source of this massive energy discharge? Well that is the humorous part of the chaos. The entire scope of the extensive damage crippling the Killian Citadel originated from the object in Cire’s hand…now he and the weapon of Obi Wan joining the force as their structures are reduced to atoms, instantly disintegrated. The explosion from Obi Wan’s lightsaber was the match that lit the dynamite as it ignited and took out the clone machine in the Biotech lab, then spread like a virus building more and more intensity from other electrical components woven into the ceiling, as deck by deck, floor by floor the blast shot upward, and fanned outward gaining more and more width and height before it finally reached the highest floor in the Citadel, the Killian Throne Room and its final destination, through Cire’s crystalline menace into the void of cold space.
 

INTERIOR:  “VINDICATOR” – BRIDGE

Aboard the SSD, the trio notice the beam of light from space, watching the shaft disappear into the furthest regions of space. Lance spins to Foe and points out the window, as a communications officer tracks the source of the eruption, the beam of light the perfect signal for this ship, lost in the stormy seas.

LANCE – WHAT IN DOOKU’S NAME WAS THAT!

FOE – It’s the signal we’ve been waiting for. My bro is in tremendous trouble! I can feel his signature fading more then it was before…dramatically. WE HAVE TO GET MOVING NOW! THERE IS NO MORE TIME!

Foe dashes towards the turbolift as Lance, Marc, and Kalin sprint hot on his heels. Kalin barks into his mic as he orders his assault team to prepare dropships as Foe dashes around hallways and through doors, using his rykk blades to slice through them, not even stopping to wait for them to open. Lance can feel the panic gripping Foe’s thoughts. Reaching out to the force, Lance soon understands the severity of the situation, running twice as fast as he knows Foe is exactly right…there is no more time.

The trio and the strike teams rush into an assault shuttle, while other ships quickly pour out of Vindicator’s bays, like swarms of bees heading directly towards Xyquine’s surface not caring if the building is guarded or not, not wasting one minute of time roaring into the atmosphere locking on to the location of the Killian Citadel, at full speed.

FOE – FASTER! MUST GO FASTER!

PILOT – Sir! This vessel is not designed to travel at speeds of that magnitude!

FOE – I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS! I RUN A BUSINESS BUILT UPON SHIP TECHNOLOGY! FLY THIS THING APART IF YOU HAVE TO! TIME IS NOT ON OUR SIDE!

The pilot shrugs a moment, quivering in fear as he engages back up engines, increasing the speed of the ship as it rattles and gyrates viciously, threatening to tear apart, it still holds together as Lance lends his force control over the craft, keeping it in one piece.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

As the smoke clears and the rumbling stops…the white hot explosion have ceased Agen slowly stirs as she comes back to her senses. Val struggles to breath, fighting off the powerful effects of the toxins overtaking his systems. He can no longer feel any pain, as his body is now completely numb, except for some sensation in his hands. The force tries to do everything it can to aid its Master, but even it is not powerful enough to balance the amount of damage Val’s body has sustained.

Val’s eyes can only shift to see Agen standing back to her feet, once again Gen’s lightsaber is held tightly in her grasp. Her crimson eyes waste no time turning blood red, her rage returning as well as she steps towards her victim, saber at ready.

AGEN – Now son of Russel and Kathryn Versai. You will meet your maker in eternity.

Val’s eyes do not leave Agen’s hand as her finger activates Gen’s personal weapon. The shaft of dazzling purple extends to its full length with a SNAP HISS. The iris of Agen’s eyes becoming half moons as she gazes down towards Val, holding Gen’s saber in both hands pointing the blade’s tip downward in a stabbing motion aimed for Val’s heart.

All of a sudden, the two massive doors guarding the entrance to the room are blown off their hinges, each enormous panel of thick metal, falling in opposite directions as smoke billows into the room from the exterior. The figure Cire had seen in a blue robe was revealed, backlit by rays of intense white light, with its arms outstretched, one to each side of the room, where the doors have been torn from their foundations.

Agen glares towards the figure, and hurls her twirl purple lighting from one of her hands, as she holds the tip of her saber towards Val’s heart, now using one hand to guide the weapon. The lighting spirals in wide circular arches towards the figure in blue, but the figure lifts its arms from the sides and draws them inward, as the lightning surrounds its body, beginning to shear the robe’s material as pieces of blue flake off revealing another outfit underneath.

The figure’s body glows with a radiant purple as the lighting attacks its body, the energy soon being absorbed directly into it until it gathers into a single ball of light. Flicking its fingers forward, the gathered ball of dark side power is hurled into a wall just to the left of Val and Agen.

A large chunk of the metal wall cleaves off the side as the ball of energy hurled by the figure impacts it. Agen being distracted by the falling debris uses her free hand to use the force, hovering the rocks then tossing them to the side. While she does this her attention has not detected that the figure in blue, the robe barely covering its form had almost closed distance.

Agen redoubles her efforts to complete her task as she aims Gen’s purple blade towards Val’s heart, pulling back her hand, wrapping her other around the hilt, using both to grip the handle as she reassumed her former lunging, stabbing posture.

However while she tries to bring the saber down, it is suddenly torn from her two handed grip as the figure appears behind her, and then uses a force pull to tear the weapon from Agen's hands, bringing the device to its own hand. The sihilouette, one foot away ripping off its hood peering to Agen with piercing eyes.

VOICE – That belongs…to me.

Before Agen can respond, the figure no longer in a blue robe spins around in a fluidic twirl so blinding fast no one is able to detect it, even Agen cannot see what actually happens save for a sudden flash of vibrating purple light, but she starts to try to speak, and finds that she can no longer talk.

VOICE – You predicted that no human soul in the galaxy could bring your hex to an end. I’m not human and the reign of your “Curse” has been broken!

Agen’s head topples from her body, rolling along the floor as her remains tumble forward before the figure no longer shielded behind a blue robe. Held in its grasp, is the igntited lightsaber as a purple edge casts its body in violet radiance. The identity of the figure Cire saw that chilled his soul to the core, is known solely through Val’s next words.

VAL – (looking to figure) Eternal Love…

VOICE – Forever Bound…

As Val lurches forward, Gen Zeridian, the one TRUE Gen Zeridian rushes to his side, scoops him up in her arms kissing his lips softly, cradling his body against her gray signature jumpsuit.  Tears stream from her vibrant purple eyes seeing the condition of her lover, broken, beaten…and hanging on to life by a thread.

At first Val is a bit skeptical, not wanting another repeat of Agen before. Still with the figure able to repeat words only the real Gen would really know, beyond tampered DNA and implanted data streams…he is certain beyond a shadow of a doubt and for the moment beyond all reason…she had come back.

VAL – Gen I…I’ve missed you…so…much

GEN – (crying) Oh Val, my Loved One…I’ve waited an eternity to hold you in my arms again. I’ve traveled beyond the gates of life and death to find my way back to you…don’t you dare leave me.

Gen was the one who haunted the Killian Clone machine all this time. You see when Cire cloned the DNA from Gen’s lightsaber crystals what he did not know is that Gen Zeridian at the time of her death, trapped her very soul inside of them. Having captured her essence inside her personal weapon, Val used in battle time and time again it finally explained why she never once, appeared to him as a spirit. She was trapped inside the gems until something happened during the DNA replication process that awoke her spirit allowing her to invade the machinery, and in doing so under Cire’s nose she had instructed the machine to produce not one clone of her body…but two.

She had no control over Agen’s creation, she was far too developed to be stopped but Gen had to wait for a enough of a build up of force energy to draw from. As she detected Vachon making her move into Agen’s body, Gen used the same stream of force intensity to finally thrust her soul into the second clone. Cire had advanced beyond the earlier limitations of cloning and in this new body, she could live as any other human could with her force skills in tact and because it was Gen’s real, genuine soul she also could retain every memory he had over twenty five years ago.

Now for the moment it us up to the force to decide what fate awaits the two reunited lovers. While one returns from the grave to rejoin her mate, the other hovers closer to losing her once again.
 

EXTERIOR: XYQUINE – ON APPROACH TO CITADEL

Across the skies of Xyquine, among the swirling purple clouds and fierce bolts of lighting, the four leaders of the Liberation fleet anxiously prepare for their arrival, seeing the distance structure of the decimated Citadel beginning to come into view, growing in size as the ground races below them. The engines nearly burn out from the speed placed on them, and Foe keeps his eyes trained on he building feeling Val’s force signature dwindling, suddenly flashing his eyes open in a vacant expression.

LANCE – Foe? Foe are you ok man?

FOE – I feel something I can’t possibly feel Lance. I can’t understand it but she’s there…

Lance waves his hand in front of Foe’s face, but Foe’s eyes stare blankly forward as he feels the signature of his former Master boom through his head. Seeing how close the Citadel is now, the bottom of its clawed struts in view, as the smoke billows from the exposed roof he closes his eyes a moment and reaches out.

LANCE – Who? I don’t sense anything out of the ordinary in there, other then Val’s fading force signature and someone else...I can’t identify, but the vibrations are off the scale.

Lance doesn’t understand exactly what is going on as he looks to the pilot alerting him.

PILOT – There are shards of Luxor Armor and debris all over the ground, I can’t find a clear place to land…I’m also detecting surface activity, a moderate movement of vehicles, their weapon’s systems are coming online.

LANCE – (glaring out the view port) Don’t land, aim for the roof, it looks big enough we can just fly down into it and reach inside the fortress.

From the ground, the remainder of Killian Drones bred for combat unleashes a barrage of blaster fire from tanks and droid machines as Lance’s oncoming Assault ship closes distance. Suddenly from the sky above, a lone X-Wing covered in sections of Luxor Armor banks its spread wings to the right, as the droids open fire on it. The energy beams bounce off the X-Wing’s fortified panels, ricocheting back towards The Killian ground forces as the fighter, flanked by another squadron of mixed TIES and WINGS advances on the battle droids below.

The figure in the cockpit of the lead X-Wing pulls back the trigger on his stick, unleashing a volley of red fire on the Killian forces. The blasters from the ship pelt the surface of the planet as tanks and ground forces are riddled with the deadly fire, bursting into flames and flying into the air in chunks of knarled metal and sputtering sparks and rocks.

LON – (com) YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAA!! TAKE THAT YOU KILLIAN SLIMEBALLS!

Lance grabs radio transmitter and communicates with the Night Stalker.

LANCE – (com) Sacul informed me you might show up. Glad to have you back Lon. Consider yourself Squadron Leader. Give them hell!

LON – (com) Dude don't waste your time dealing with these morons, we can take em. Get in that big tin plated tin can and rescue Master Val!

LANCE – (com) Already on it…Lance out.

Lance anxiously adjusts his DL-44s, looking to Kalin, Marc and Foe. His eyes filled with that glint it had before he lost it defeated by The Killian in space, as he gestures his fingers towards the window, giving what he feels are his last commands as President of Versai Tech.

LANCE – Foe, Marc you attend to Val, Kalin and I will handle Corrie and Isis…I’ve received word that she is still alive, just encased in carbonite.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM (LEFT SIDE)

Gen clutches Val tightly in her grasp as she runs her fingers through his medium length locks. Her purple gaze shifting upward the incoming roar of Lance’s Assault craft entering from the ceiling. Wasting no time, Lance, Marc, and Foe leap over the lowering ramp not even waiting for the ramp to fully settle. Along with the security crew, Adam Durlock the lead Medical officer surveys the situation as he sees Corrie and Terra motionless on the floor, then spots Gen sitting on the floor with Val draped across her lap.

Foe dashes full gale around the gaping hole in the center of the room, as he runs towards Gen and Val. He holds up his hand as Lance begins to follow, three assault ships having landed inside the Citadel through the exposed roof, on the far right side of the room.

FOE – No Lance! Ya go attend to Isis…I ain’t too sure how long the expected rate of life is on hunk o carbonite used for a bed…get her out of it!

Foe sees Adam pacing up towards Terra and Corrie gesturing for the medical staff to attend to them with gurneys and stretches. The medical team floods the floor in a sea of purple and white uniforms, bringing out stim packs, and bacta patches, attending to Terra’s wounds first, then to Corrie’s injuries.

Kalin walks over with the staff to Corrie gazing at her with a perked brow. His eyes finding that one feeling you get when you know you’ve found something special, unexplained but there. Quickly he takes off his coat, and helps the medical crew get her loaded on the hover stretcher, taking her hand and kissing it softy as he gazes to her flowing brown cowlicks, her body though injured still appealing behind her form fitting catsuit.

KALIN – I think we have to get that tight suit off, it’s cutting off the flow of oxygen to her pores.

Corrie stirs hearing the comment then lifts her eyes skyward to Kalin, taking a deep breath, pleased at what she sees.

CORRIE – When I expected to open my eyes, I never thought I would find someone who rivaled Luke Skywalker in looks…You want to take my suit, you’re gonna have to earn it stranger.

KALIN – (grins) My name is Rear Admiral, Kalin Starblade and I’ve been enlisted, my to my delight to aid in the rescue efforts here. You’re going to be ok, help is here.

CORRIE – (quirks a brow) Well Mr. Starblade…Rear Admiral is it? Might I request your company to where ever the hell you’re planning on taking me?

KALIN – (smiles) But of course, M’lady Dublon.

CORRIE – Please…drop the prince charming approach. Call me Corrie, shut up and kiss me already.

Kalin leans in close then kisses Corrie softly on her lips in a sensual exchange before drawing back, holding her hand, as she is loaded into one of the drop ships.  Emerging from hyperspace is another fleet sent by the New Republic to aid in the rescue effort. Vital to the scene, among the standard ships there are 3 Nebulon B medical frigates preparing their bays to receive the survivors of the Killian/Liberation battle and of course the three injured figures on the ground.

FOE – Adam Durlock, get your butt over here NOW!

Adam blinks a moment then swiftly heeds Foe’s order rushing over to Gen and Val as he pulls a scanning unit from a utility box. He doesn’t even need Foe to tell him what to do, as he sees the severe damage inflicted on Val’s body. His eyes lower a moment, as he gazes to the scanner. The reading at first is unclear as he keeps attempting to decipher exactly why Val is motionless.

Foe gazes to Gen in utter disbelief, having to physically reach out and touch her shoulder to see she is flesh and blood. His eyes wandering to Val’s narrowed slits. Foe could feel Val slipping in and out of consciousness, he didn’t know what was going on inside Val’s body, no one for the moment knew of the toxin or its deadly effects, Adam is perplexed as he calls his staff for a stronger set of sensor equipment.

Three staff members draw out of one ship, a large mechanical device on wheels. Very similar to the scanning equipment used by Vader’s men to search the Millennium Falcon, the technology had been upgraded and used for medicinal purposes. In this case it could with a scanning green laser light, perform a CAT scan, x-ray, and full body analysis of Val’s crumpled figure.
 

INTERIOR:  THE KILLIAN CITADEL – THRONE ROOM – RIGHT SIDE – CENTER WALL

While Adam sets up the equipment to run a full body scan on Val. Lance heeds Foe’s words and squanders no time walking over to the mournful piece of art, hanging on Cire’s wall. His heart thumps with anticipation as he sees Isis’s body slightly protruding from the block of cold carbonite. The setup is akin to Leia freeing Han from Jabba’s Palace as he steps to the side of the block, pressing a button that drops the gigantic tomb with a floor rumbling CLANG tipping back slightly against the wall.

Smoothing his fingers along a series of dials, inset inside the block a little bit down from the very edge of it he locates the temperature controls. Slowly turning one of the dials to the left, he hears a pulsating, steadily rising hum begin to reverberate from the block. A light panel just to the north of the line of controls starts to increasingly flash faster and faster. Forced to step away, he steps back a bit as the sounds eventually build higher and higher in intensity. Little by little he can see white lines start to fracture the carbon shell, as Isis’s figure grows with a deep red-orange luster. Beams of light come from within the glowing aura as they stream outward, cascading off Lance’s purple and gold striped uniform.

Bit by bit, portions of Isis’s smoothly toned face can be seen through the almost liquid separated shell of the block. Her hair next to be revealed as her lips lay exposed to the light. The shafts of white light streak outward and odd angular layers as the last of the material securing Isis in the block, is evaporated away.

With a SLURCHING sound, Isis’s body tumbles forward, her arms tucking towards her chest as Lance dashes to catch her before she falls to the floor (unlike Han). The impression of her body in the carbonite block is shown with polished bits of silver tones, more abstract then suggestive.

Tumbled safely in Lance’s arms, Isis cannot yet see clearly as she suffers from hybernation sickness.

ISIS – (confused) Who is…who’s there?

LANCE – (concerned) A friend…someone you know will take care of you.

ISIS – Val? Corrie?

LANCE – No…here.

Lance takes one of Isis’s hands, smoothing her tapered fingers along his face, to his cleanly trimmed military hairline, down along the faceplate of his uniform.

ISIS – Lance…it’s really…really you? Am I dreaming this?

LANCE – If it’s a dream…then you shouldn’t be able to feel this.

Lance leans in close, softly kissing Isis’s lush lips. A rush of fresh air fills her lungs sending a shiver down Isis’s spine not of fear but of pleasure. Her eyes strain to form images, but her vision still remains wrapped in darkness however her other senses give her all the clues she needs, wrapping her around Lance’s neck, deepening the passionate embrace.

Lance breaks the kiss momentarily as more medical personal place her onto a hover stretcher. Lance keeps his blue eyes locked on Isis as he takes her hand in his own, smoothing his fingers along her knuckles.

ISIS – (scared) Lance…don’t leave me, I don’t want to be alone…in the dark…trapped.

LANCE – Don’t worry Isis, I won’t let anyone take you away, trust in me baby…I’ll be your hero.

Isis leans up and pulls Lance into another kiss, using her sense of touch to sense his position, but her joyfilled embrace is short lived for through her link with her brother, she can now also feel his signature fading…much dimmer then it was before.

ISIS – Val, what has happened to Val!

Lance smoothes his fingers along Isis’s golden locks, as he listens to her. Replying in as calm a manner as he can not wanting to make her panic any further.

LANCE – Val is injured Sara, but he’s fine…

Feeling the force slowly flowing through her body as her blood begins to circulate, Sara’s attention is directed directly across to the far left hand side of the room where Foe, Marc, Gen, Adam, and Val are all gathered in a group.

ISIS – (flashes her eyes open wide) NO! NO HE’S NOT! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I FEEL! YOU’VE GOT TO GET OVER TO HIM IMMEDIATELY!

Without a second thought, Lance gives Sara’s hand a tight squeeze before dashing across the room to see what the panic is about. Adam shakes his head as he looks to the laser scan results displayed on a navy green monitor.

Gen cradles Val in her arms once more, the minute Val’s scan is completed not wanting to be separated from his side. Her eyes fill with tears as she begins screaming into his ear.

GEN – (panicked) DAMN IT VALARYC WINTERS VERSAI DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! WAKE UP! FIGHT THIS OFF!

Val’s body still remains as still as it has been since he tumbled down the stairs after his battle with Cire, he’s able to see Gen, though his vision fades in and out of focus as the lethal poison spreads towards his nervous system.

Val turns towards Foe, then Lance.

VAL – Foe you are….are the brother…I should have…had. You are truly…a Versai. Watch over my friend Lon, make sure he keeps his skills sharp, and monitor his training.

FOE – You aint goin no place Val, you and I are gonna sit in a bar somewhere and laugh about all this ya hear me? Don’t give up hope you’re too damn stubborn for that!

Craning his last breaths to Marc and Lance, he can sense the pain in his blue eyes as he sees Sara loaded into one of the drop ships.

VAL – Lance…you have to…have to watch over my…sister…now, company, mansion. Marc you’ve always been there for me…it’s been a honor having your service and your friendship.

MARC – (sighs) I’m not handing in my retirement papers yet Mr. President.

LANCE – Me either!  I’m not taking that responsibility; it’s YOURS to command, the Presidency, VT and all the privileges that go with it. You have to fight this! You can’t let Cire win you’ve fought too hard to let it end like this.

With little feeling left in his hand, he grabs Gen’s collar and draws her close to him, struggling to form the right words, sputtering them through quite some effort into her ear.

VAL – I want you to know Gen, in this world and the next…I will always love you.

Drawing Gen’s lips to his own in one last passionate kiss, he allows Gen to take away his last conscious breath, falling completely limp and deathly still. The force signature Foe, Lance and Gen sense ceases soon after.

Gen tries to shake Val back to his senses, turning her focus on Adam, demanding an explanation.

GEN – TELL ME NOW! WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO HIM! HE IS THE STRONGEST MAN I HAVE EVER KNOWN! WHAT MANNER OF DARK SIDE WITCHERY CAN LEAVE HIM IN THIS STATE!

Adam glances towards Lance, Foe, Marc then pulls the monitor around. The display reveals that the binary poison has invaded Val’s nervous system, and circulatory systems attempting to shut them down.

GEN – I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT THE GUARDIANS OF THE FORCE HAVE GIVEN ME BACK MY SOUL AT THE PRICE OF MY LOVE! ACCEPT THIS FATE! I WILL NOT!

Adam nods slowly, as Gen tightens her fists into tight balls. Marc and Lance peer down upon their fallen leader, a tear running down Lance’s cheek, while Marc tries to keep his composure. Foe is a rock, consumed more with anger then sadness. He takes his frustration out on a column with his Ryyk blades refusing to accept what he has seen. Even with the outpouring of sadness, echoing all the way to Sara inside a departing drop ship and Corrie and Kalin in the other…feeling his signature ripple though the galaxy, again there is one tiny glimmer of light, in the overwhelming darkness.

Adam swallows softly, then closes down the monitor, pacing over to the medical staff, ordering them to pick up Val’s body. Lance turns away, and Marc shifts his eyes as they draw him form onto a hovering stretcher as well, Gen dashes towards Val’s side refusing to let go of his hand.

Taking in a deep breath he walks up to Gen, whispering softy in her ear.

ADAM – You may not have to accept that fate Miss Zeridian…

Lance, Marc, and Foe swiftly spin their attention back towards Adam as he gets some distance from the crowd, watching Val’s body being loaded into another drop ship. Droids begin to attach wires into his form as Gen glances from the craft, to Adam preparing for a sprint into it.

ADAM – (swallows) Well there is good news and bad news everyone…I wish there was some other way to put this but Val has been poisoned with a very lethal strain of toxins. The bad news is that there is no record of either a cure, or a description of the specific effects of the infection.

LANCE – And what is the good news?

Adam glances over towards Gen, then motions her to the front of the group.

ADAM – From what the readout has told me the venom has stopped mutating in his bloodstream, apparently his high midi chlorine count has overtaken most of the intended effects of the venom which I can assume is total system shutdown. Val is gone…but not dead.

Lance shifts his eyes between Adam and the craft baring Val’s body. Feeling the suspense driving him to the brink of insanity, echoing that of the the other figures in the room…especially Foe Raker he orders Adam to spit it out.

Foe Raker takes no such formalities, running over and picking up Adam with one hand, glaring into his eyes, as he feels his blood rush through his muscular physique.

FOE – ENOUGH DAMN RIDDLES BOY OUT WITH IT!

LANCE – Foe, please put him down and let him speak.

Foe gives Lance a sideward glance, and then sets Adam down. Pacing like a rabid animal to Lance’s right side, between Marc he crosses his forearms over his chest and waits for Adam’s diagnosis.

ADAM – I’ll spare you all the nagging suspense…

All hearts in the room beat as one as they lock their eyes, thoughts, and emotions on Adam’s moving lips, neglecting the roaring squeal of the two drop ships taking off into orbit. It is clear that if Val’s body was not being placed in a body bag or some other form of containment device…there was something else.

With a fresh breath of air, Adam clasps his hands behind his back, dropping his head slowly.

ADAM – Val has slipped into a coma…there is nothing we can do…

(echoed)

But wait…

And pray…
 

CONCLUSION

    Not wanting to pause another second, Gen glances towards Adam then leaps headlong into the back of the final drop ship, as the hatch closes up behind her. A Lambada Class Shuttle enters through the roof, while the last drop ship with Gen takes off towards the Nebulon B medical frigate.

No words are exchanged beyond Adams revelation as Marc, Lance and Foe make their way swiftly into the Imperial Shuttle, sitting in silence within their seats as the loading ramp draws upward and locks. No words need to be exchanged in the moment, The Killian was finished and their leader was finally vanquished. The Curse was broken and Vachon dissipated into the void never to return.

With all of the pain, suffering, fighting, and hope leading up to this dramatic conclusion, all the questions of the past had been answered from Kero Fear, to Quillion’s identity, to Vachon’s intentions, Crymson’s final defeat and the eternal riddle to what would happen if Gen came back from the dead…all was now settled but fate did not yet bring order or balance to Val and Gen’s destiny…

With the ending of chaos a new path would have to be traveled and what lies at the end of the road, only time will tell.