Enjoy
Something
Wicked this Way Comes
It
attacked with the frenzy of a caged animal, leaving no quarter for Wraith to
counter strike. Its physique reminded him of Rakghoul plagues, common during
the Cold War, which made the victims look like a zombie. A feral, omnivorous
zombie with a lightsaber and no physical inhibitions. Had Wraith not been completely
in tune with the Force and privy to enhanced senses, the mutant would have
struck him down. Instead he blocked and parried, until he managed to Force crush
the beast’s heart.
Nothing
happened.
It
kept attacking, until Wraith channelled lightning, disabling its lightsaber and
scorching its hands black; a stark contrast against its bleach white skin.
Still the lightning did not seem to halt it and, despite missing its limbs, the
creature attacked still. Only when Wraith lopped its head off did it fall down
dead.
He
had no time to relax. That mutant was just a scout, he realized, as he sensed
more and heard the ignition of lightsabers. Like a veritable swarm of buzzing
locusts, more mutants, emerged by the dozen from the darkness.
“Someone
is teleporting them in,” said Elara. She had rushed to his side and they fought
back to back. Wraith saw that traditional Force powers had little effect on
them and followed Elara’s example of shooting lances of fire, needles of water
and reinforcing their bodies to dish out punishment amongst the mutant ranks.
Their
lightsabers were cheaply made and clearly rushed in some factory. What clothes
they wore resembled hospital garments. They were devoid of hair – some even of
teeth and fingernails. A few had tendrils and lekku, although they were little more than stumps and bumps. Their
eyes were obsidian, like deep space. And whilst their template was obviously
humanoid, there was nothing human about their behaviour.
They
fought with mindless ferocity, uncaring for their wounds. They couldn’t feel
pain, or indeed anything. Every time they were damaged, Wraith felt the Force
heal them, sealing their wounds. It softened blows. They had no internal organs,
realized Wraith. Their brain, mostly dead, was remotely controlled by someone
using the Dark Side of the Force.
Marionettes.
Mutant marionettes.
When
the last one was left, Wraith halted Elara from killing it. Instead he dismembered
its arms and legs. The mutant still attempted to bite him and snapped its
gnarled teeth at him. He levitated it with the Force and smashed it head first
into a wall, leaving a dent. The mutant shook uncontrollably and struggled to
function. Almost immediately, Wraith had his hands around its head, sending out
lightning. Not offensive arcs, but subtle, nearly microscopic, transmissions of
electricity, interfering with its remote signal. He jammed the Force signal and
shut down its brain.
“Why
did you keep it alive?” asked Elara.
“They
are being operated through the Force,” he replied. “Which means I can trace the
signal.”
Master
Yoda was not happy with his plan. “Way of the Jedi, this is not. Torture, we do
not.”
“It
will be painless,” explained Wraith. “I simply wish to extract information
directly from his brain.”
“Sith,
that technique is,” replied Yoda.
“Well
in case you haven’t noticed,” snapped Wraith “I am neither Jedi nor Sith.”
Yoda gave him a reproaching look. “Do not let
fear and confusion cloud your mind.” He sighed. “Too much blood, today was
shed. Answers you must find. But present I will be. My duty to you, neglect I
shall not.”
They
had chained the mutant inside a holding cell. Yoda and Elara were to hold it
steady with the Force whilst Wraith activated its mind again.
The
creature struggled violently, ceasing only thanks to the efforts of the witch
and the Jedi Grandmaster. Once confident that it wouldn’t bite his hand off,
Wraith grabbed its head and concentrated.
Though
the Force he dove into its brain. The creature’s mind was a mass off twisting
darkness and rot. He saw a vat, in a lab, as a distant memory. He saw an
operating droid driving long needles and spikes into its body and mind. Then he showed up.
He
was the Dark Side incarnate, serving only as a phantom. It infiltrated its
mind, removed any notion of intellect and individuality only to replace it with
itself. The Sith had given the order to ravage the Temple, setting the mutants
loose on Coruscant without restraint.
His
presence was too much for Wraith to comprehend. He could never grasp onto the
Sith and counter his influence. Instead he settled for the next best thing.
He
made himself smaller almost into a synapse and lodged into a tiny corner of the
mutant’s brain, like a nano-virus.
“Where
do you come from?”
He’d
nearly gotten the answer. The galaxy became a system, then a planet, then a
location, then a room, then a vat. Using a complicated mix of Drain knowledge,
the Art of the Small and psychometry, Wraith began uncovering the origins of
the mutant.
Suddenly,
darkness loomed, cutting off his connection. He felt the Sith strike back and
pushed him out of the mutant’s mind.
Wraith
was back in the holding cell and thrown backwards.
“Stop
him!” he yelled. But it was too late. He felt the Sith destroy the mutant’s
brain, rotting it from the inside.
Elara
and Yoda felt its death too.
“Did
you get it?” she asked.
“Yeah,”
he replied.
“A
new location have you?” asked Yoda.
Wraith
steadied himself and tried to get rid of the Sith’s looming image.
“Yes,
I do,” he said as he hid a hand which shook uncontrollably.
“Dromund
Kaas.”
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