Jedi Insurgency 212

Sneaking around the research facility, Corvus placed stealthed mines at key locations, such as power terminals, conveyor belts, smelting bays, and laboratories. Fortunately, he had picked up some scraps, and weapons from the deceased on Nar Shaddaa, and reforged them into explosives at a workbench aboard the Falcon. 

It was tedious work, but like an artist enjoying his craft, planting stealth bombs whilst the enemy was unaware was a time honored classic. Watching a pair of nearby guards grabbing some coffee, he somewhat felt bad for the guys. During his spree across the facility, he had come across hundreds of ordinary people, people no different than the engineers, and technicians that you would find working at Boeing, or any other R&D company. Feeling some sympathy, he walked up to a nearby terminal-and using the executive's credentials-initiated an emergency evacuation. 

It was one thing to blow up enemy combatants, or assassinate a high ranking executive to blackmail one of the top 5 companies in the galaxy, it was an entirely different matter when it came to bombing civilian employees indiscriminately. Yeah, in wartime, it was okay to destroy factories, because destroying the enemy faction's supply capabilities was something any intelligent General would do. War was hell, and unfortunately, innocents always got caught up in the crossfire, that was the nature of the game. However, if he could minimize civilian casualties, he would. 

Pressing the final keys, a different alert sounded off this time. Instead of the fire alarm style noise that Madine's inside man had set on loop, this time an orange alert was blaring across the facility. 

“Now hear this. Core meltdown imminent. Evacuate Sectors A through J. Repeat. Core meltdown imminent. This is not a drill. The proprietary self destruct sequence has been activated. All personnel are to depart the facility. ETA to final destruction. TEN MINUTES.” 

“By the Force!” One guard jolted in surprise, dropping his coffee with a clatter. 

“Shit, shit, shit! The monorail is a 15 minute ride to the gates, we're not going to make it!” The other one gasped in despair. 

“...” The first guard didn't say another word, and began booking it as fast as he could towards the monorail. 

Corvus, meanwhile, walked up to the vending machine that they had been at, and calmly floated a candy bar out from behind the glass. 

The wrapper read ‘Alderaan Crunch.’ 

“Hmm, nutty.” Corvus ate the chocolate in appreciation. 

Wiping his gloved hands off, he invisibly strolled towards the area nearby where the AT-ST's were being kept. The few remaining employees who hadn't left earlier were now moving with fearful haste. Corvus witnessed the desperation of humanity as several people were knocked over, or nearly trampled upon. Taking pity on an old lady who had been pushed over, Corvus levitated her to an office, healed her, and then with a wave of his hand, put her to sleep. 

As for why he was so calm, and not in a hurry? Obviously, because the so-called core meltdown was just a prank. There were a few pre-established messages that the leadership team could send through the base's PA system. The one that looked like it would evacuate the most people was the core meltdown scenario. And this little lady should survive, as it wasn't like he had placed explosives across every square inch of this research facility. 

The KDY base was a huge sprawling campus. He pretty much only planted a mine on the most important things. 90% of random office space would probably only feel a tremor once he remotely detonated the bombs. 

Taking his time to rescue a few other people who had fallen over, had medical emergencies due to a panic attack, or simply calmed down those who were huddled up in the fetal position, Corvus finally made it to the AT-ST mustering ground. 

A massive hangar opened up to a wide field. Inside, there were a few hundred chicken walkers with their legs folded, and the big box resting on the ground. Approaching one of the grey weapons of war, he ran a hand along its exterior, and let out a low whistle of admiration. Although they were ugly to look at, and had a max speed of 56mph, the AT-ST was one of his favorite Star Wars vehicles. 

Jumping on top of the cabin he would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to slice a hole, and jump inside. Copying Luke's feat on Hoth of cutting a hole in the AT-TE was something he looked forward to mimicking. For now, he simply waved his hand, and undid the internal locks holding the hatch in place. Climbing down the ladder, he was met with a foreign set of controls. Fortunately, just like with the Falcon, his body moved automatically, and turned the vehicle on with ease. Before long, the chicken walker was standing upright, and Corvus was staring at it from behind in a 3rd person POV. 

A minute later, the AT-ST was taking one step after another, and had left the hangar. Smiling like a kid in a candy shop, each time the walker struck the pavement, or he heard the hiss of hydraulic gears, he would pat the dashboard in appreciation. Of course all this noise would grate on him long term, but for a moment, he once more had that special feeling:

I'm in Star Wars. 

“Let's just hope there aren't any plot armor murder bears around the corner.” He laughed to himself, and then began to take this bad boy towards the stormtrooper company. 

Madine's men were prepared for the ambush, and were already laying into the troopers. Finding cover behind boxes, desks, and other items one might find in a loading bay, the two sides exchanged fire. Due to their limited numbers, the commandos were gradually being suppressed by the 100 man company. 

Pressing forward at full steam ahead, the prototype walker shot a missile at a pair of broken blast doors up ahead. The explosion rocked the ground, and sent chunks of quickly flying metal everywhere. Lowering the AT-ST under a stray steel beam, the technological terror prowled onto the scene. Emerging into the Super Eclipse dark of night, its headbeams glared down at the Imperials & rebels like an angry god. 

A platoon of stormtroopers snapped into formation, white armor gleaming beneath their dim flashlights. “Walker breach! Verify targets!” A trooper shouted to his comrades. 

“Bzzt, experimental walker…zzzt, identi-kosh, this ish, Lieutenant…repeat, shoot the damn rebel scum!” A garbled message played through the speakers of the AT-ST's cabin. 

Corvus slowly, menacingly tilted the frame of the scout walker towards a group of troopers hiding behind some crates suppressing a lone rebel. Equipped with side mounted lasers, under carriage lasers, a grenade launcher, and a missile rack, this bad boy was fully armed, and fully operational! 

Depressing a trigger on his joystick, a crimson bolt the size of an average NBA player soared through the air, and slammed into the troopers’ hiding spot. The power in this one blast was enough to rip apart limbs, and leave a scorching hole in the ground 5ft deep. A blackened crater with a 10ft radius marked the spot of the shot. Of the six men who were hiding behind the box, three were severely wounded, and one was dead! Unlike a videogame, blasters were actually really friggin powerful! If a standard issue stormtrooper's blaster could rip and tear into a Jawas sandcrawler, then it could be imagined just how terrifying a light tank's main guns would be! 

To their credit, the Imperials were well trained, and crimson bolts streaked toward him. Corvus, with the help of [Speed], Pause buffering, and his newfound study of the enemy's shadow, predicted & reacted to everything seconds before they even pulled the trigger. 

Through the Force, time stretched, and fractured into threads of possibility. His hands danced across unfamiliar controls with impossible ease, guided less by training and more by instinct sharpened to a razor’s edge. The AT-ST’s chin cannons roared to life, twin streams of red energy cut across the corridor in a continuous violent belch. 

Stormtroopers vanished in bursts of sparks and smoke as each shot was unerringly accurate. 

The walker pivoted on one leg, a motion too fluid for its clunky design, and slammed its armored foot down. The durasteel floor buckled beneath the impact, sending a minor shockwave through the advancing line. Several troopers lost their footing by just a step, and a trio of commandos took advantage of this minor pause to gun them down. 

Corvus didn't remain still, and prowled around boxes, and shipping containers like a raptor on the hunt. The hallway became a furnace of light and heat as he frequently swapped between the side mounted guns, and the undercarriage so that they wouldn't overheat. Even so, the guns glowed orange-red as he accurately sniped one man after another. 

More troops flooded in from adjoining corridors, disciplined and relentless. Heavy weapons teams dropped to one knee, launching coordinated volleys that hammered against the walker’s plating. The cockpit shuddered violently. One of the viewports spiderwebbed with cracks.

“Structural integrity at forty-two percent.” The machine beeped in warning. 

Corvus exhaled slowly, then slammed his fist down on the accelerator with a mad grin. The AT-ST charged forward, stomping one man to death, the trooper Wilhelm screamed in fear. 

Blaster fire raked its hull, scoring deep grooves into already-damaged armor. One of its side actuators blew out in a shower of sparks, sending the walker staggering sideways, but Corvus compensated instantly, redistributing power, forcing the leg to hold.

He returned fire with brutal efficiency.

Every shot mattered.

Every shot killed.

A squad attempted to flank him from the right, but Corvus felt them before he saw them. The walker twisted, its movement jarringly abrupt, and unleashed a concussive grenade from its launcher. The explosion filled the corridor with fire, tossing bodies about like they were ragdolls on a movie set. 

The Force whispered: Left.

He juked the AT-ST downward instinctively, and a bright green rocket screamed past the cockpit, detonating behind him. The blast wave hurled the walker forward, slamming it into a support column. This act of metal on metal sent a deep vibration through the cabinet, and made a piercing, screeching sound. Red lights were flashing inside the cabin, and a red bar showed that power was rapidly fading. 

He could escape at anytime, a [Shadow Hop] would save him, so he wasn't truly in any danger, especially since he had coated himself in [Energy Resistance]. If he didn't mind being revealed as a Jedi, the AT-ST would be coated too, but that could be done another time! 

Wrenching the controls, the AT-ST tore itself free of the collapsing column and spun, its remaining cannon blazing in a continuous arc. Stormtroopers scattered, their formation breaking at last, but there was nowhere to run. The pitch dark loading/offloading zone had become a kill zone.

Inside the cockpit, Corvus’s eyes burned white with the Force. No one was out of sight. No one would escape! 

The last of the heavy troopers advanced, and fired four rockets all at once. Damaged as it was, it was impossible for Corvus to dodge them all. Despite his best efforts, and dodging three of them, he unfortunately took a direct hit. 

Armor plating sheared away as one leg buckled, nearly collapsing entirely. Smoke poured from ruptured systems, filling the cockpit with acrid heat. The targeting display died completely.

So Corvus stopped relying on it.

He closed his eyes.

The Force became his sight.

He fired.

The cannon, half-dead and sputtering, answered his will. Each shot struck perfectly, claiming their due. One by one, the final squad fell.

Silence followed as the commandos looked on in shocked awe. 

The AT-ST's hull was blackened and torn open in places, cables hanging like exposed veins. One leg trembled violently, struggling to keep the machine upright. Smoke billowed from every seam, rising in thick, choking clouds.

Inside, Corvus opened his eyes.

Through the fractured viewport, he looked upon the ruin he had carved.

An entire company was gone. 

The walker gave a final, pained shudder beneath him, as if acknowledging the legendary heroics they had accomplished together. 

Corvus rested one hand lightly on the dash, and gave it a pat, like the machine was a beloved pet. 

“You did good. Rest now.” He murmured.

Then, with a steady calm, he pulled out the detonator, and after depressing the button, the research facility became brighter than a New Years celebration.