Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Turn Coat

Part 10 (Yes I remembered to number them) of my Star Wars short story. 

Turn Coat

For the first time in months, he was nervous. The right thing for a Sith like him would have been to use his power to control and destroy. He could track down the Sith controlling Grievous and make him pay. He would be night unstoppable.

But that was not the will of the Force.

He had chosen his path: that of balance. He had evolved into an avatar of the Force, not just a Sith. True, those were his origins but his enlightenment showed him the one thing which Mortris had promised but could never deliver: harmony. Wraith yearned for more harmony, drawn to it like a moth to flame. He relished in the peace and power: not separate, but both being one thing. He sought harmony and the Force provided it.

From his position he could see the two clone troopers scouting ahead with mine detectors. A battle had taken place here recently and it was routine to check for leftover traps. They checked on the dead clones scattered around, checking for survivors. Wraith had to approach them, to say something, to seek council with the Jedi. He wouldn't surrender; maybe pretend to be an innocent bystander and influence their thoughts. Although that would never work on a Jedi worth his salt.

As his senses wondered about, seeing the energy that no detector could pick up in time.
“TRAP!!” he yelled at the top of his voice. The clones readied their weapons at him. But before either party could move, the battle ground shook and massive crab droids erupted from the ground.
“Bombs,” yelled the leader pointing at the booby traps strapped to the droids. They began retreating toward a hill where Wraith sensed were other troopers camped. But the two scouts were too far behind to fully avoid the blast. Their comrades could only watch from safety as they were thrown into the air, their white armor half shattered with the blast. Fire spread all around them, incinerating everything, and everyone, in sight.
The clones felt a large pressure around their necks and the world snapped black as if someone had flipped off a switch. Wraith teleported in the midst of the clone camp holding the two clones by the scruffs of their necks. Force gripping their necks as they were blasted off the ground had proved incredibly difficult to coordinate, and teleporting behind them and back to the camp had taken a lot out of him. He dropped the clones down and doubled over. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. The clones at the camp all snapped their weapons at him, their training taking over.
“Tend to the wounded,” he said extracting his lightsaber and igniting both ends.
“Sith,”barked the Captain who extracted twin blaster pistols. But he found himself speaking to no one, as Wraith was no longer there.

The clone captain ordered the medical droids for the scouts although he could judge by the severity of their wounds that they weren't likely to survive the day. He turned his visor towards the battlefield.  He saw a figure clad in worn dark robes and an unkempt appearance, wielding a lightsaber with two blades opposite each other. The Sith dashed from droid to droid, leaving only a slight trail of crimson wherever he swung his weapon.
“Is it a Sith, Sir?” asked the clone closest to the captain. The clone too was peering through his visor as well. The Captain pondered on that for a second. This Sith had saved two of his men. Yet Sith were the very personification of deceit.
“I don’t know Corporal. Whatever it is, it’s fast,” he finally said. Lowering his visor, the captain gave an order to his subordinate.
“Contact General Kenobi. They’re the only ones who can deal with whatever this is.”


Droids fell easy to his lightsaber. The real trick was avoiding the explosive blast and shrapnel. He cut down the final droid and spun at the faint beeping sound. A rocket spat out from one of them and headed straight for the camp. Wraith bent space again, teleporting at a point where he would intercept the incoming missile. With huge concentration, he sent out a blast of condensed wind, hitting the rocket. It spiraled in mid-air and exploded shot of its mark, showering the troops below with bits of scalding debris. Wraith stumbled forward, the world spinning.
This time they noticed him immediately amongst them.
“Don’t move,” ordered the first clone trooper. Wraith simply raised his lightsaber, holding the blade horizontally and with an exaggerated display, he deactivated his weapon and attached it to his belt. All soldiers held their weapons steady, unsure whether to shoot to kill or arrest him. Smiling at the soldiers, he raised both his hands innocently.
The medic droids sent out a flurry of beeps, indicating their patients, the two scouts, were on the verge of death. Wraith took one step towards them only yo have half a dozen commandos yell ‘Freeze!’ simultaneously.
“Get out of my way you fools. I can heal them,” said Wraith still walking towards the injured. The clones did not warm a second time. They squeezed their triggers, shooting down the Sith. Only, their laser bolts never reached him.
He erected a Force barrier around him, deflecting anything approaching his person. The dome surrounded him like a force field, absorbing and dissipating any laser bolts. He knelt down between the injured, his Force powers extending to cover the injured clones. At this point, the clones ceased shooting and just watched in frustration. Wraith placed a hand on their chests and channeled the Force.
“Level of trauma: critical,” uttered the droids. As the Force flowed through them, the wounds on the clones healed and they slowly regained consciousness.
“Level of trauma: severe.”
Moments later the same monotone voice said “Level of trauma: moderate. Critical condition avoided. Patients are stabilized.” The droids confirmed the actions of Wraith. Seeing this, the leader of the clone motioned for his troops to lower their weapons and aid the scouts. Wraith dissolved the Force barrier and remained stationery, trying to regain his strength. Unless he rested soon, he would black out and possibly fall into a coma. He felt like jelly and his eyes couldn't focus properly.

At least he had accomplished his task: the Force had given him enough strength for that. He felt obliged to saves the scouts’ lives, as if they were some form of atonement for the people he killed as a Sith. It felt good to help preserve life rather than take it. Perhaps this was the key to a higher power. Whatever it was, Wraith felt serenity deep in his heart and that was worth the pain he felt now due to over exhaustion.
Taking a deep breath, he suddenly felt great danger behind him.
“General Skywalker,” he heard one of the troops say. Sensing more accurately, he inclined his head and the tip of a blue lightsaber quivered very close to his ear.
“Do not move,” came a menacing voice from behind. 

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