Jedi Insurgency 234

Traveling through the sewers, Jax & Yon were leading the Jedi Survivors through the very tunnels they had used to escape six months ago. 

Over 50 Jedi Knights, and 16 Masters flanked the pair of teens. 

For Jax, this journey was full of painfilled memories. However, recalling the conversation he had with the ghost of his previous master, and a handful of friends, he refused to cower from this mission. Master Corvus was counting on them to seal the Darkside Nexus. If the Sith did not have their power weakened, then Master Windu's escape was to be unlikely. 

Lifting the collapsed section of the tunnel where the Taozin corpse had been with the Force, Jax felt the resolve in him begin to grow. Recalling the first time he had met Master, how they had escaped from the Temple, and gone on half a years’ worth of adventures…he was certain that this was the correct path. Growing as a Jedi, and as a man, he had for a time, been bitter. Bitter that he survived when they had not. Bitter that he lost his arms, that the other Jedi got to go to Tython in peace. But he had chosen to follow Master Corvus, and it had been the best decision of his life. Without the hardcoded precepts of the Jedi Order holding him back, Jax had learnt how to control his emotions, rather than ignore them entirely. 

Glancing to his side, he made eye contact with Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hid it well, but Jax could see the same underlying tension so often found in his master. 

“It was quite brave of your master to confront Palpatine like that. I almost feel like a coward working this side mission.” Obi-Wan muttered. “If it weren't for those dense Darkside auras, I would say less than ten of us were needed for this mission.” 

Jax didn't like to speak much, and merely inclined his head. 

“Master will be fine. We just have to do our part.” Yon butted in, sounding incredibly dismissive of the other Jedi. 

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow for a second, then sighed, seemingly not finding it worth it to correct this abrasive Padawan. 

“So he is truly Revan then? What mysteries of the Force has he imparted to you two?” Taron Malicos-the bearded Jedi Master in white clone armor-asked in an almost hungry tone. 

Jax didn't frown, yet he subtly distanced himself from the man. Etiquette demanded he respond to this Jedi Master, but he had a sense about him, as if Malicos were a hungry wolf looking at him as if he were prey. 

“Heh, you'll see once we infiltrate the Temple. Master has imparted much, and gifted us holocrons.” Yon smugly intoned. 

“Holocrons are only to be viewed under supervision after acquiring the approval of the council.” Shaak Ti said from the back, speaking in a disapproving tone. 

“Such rules are one of the reasons why I exiled myself. It's because of that willingness to embrace weakness that we find ourselves in the situation we are in.” The scarred, white bearded, muscular Jedi Master Kirak Infil’a rumbled. 

“Friends, we are here to seal the Darkside Nexus, let us please dispense with the hostilities.” The Ongree, Coleman Kcaj played mediator. 

Infil'a snorted, and Shaak Ti's face became incredibly impossible to read, yet they remained silent. 

Jax withheld a sigh, as this had been the way that these venerable Masters had been acting ever since they began their trek. Closing his eyes for a second, he once more felt that faint-yet oh so close-sensation. A Force Sensitive was being tortured in the Temple, and her cries were heart rending. No one else-not even Master Kenobi-seemed to be able to sense her, but he knew he wasn't crazy. There was a connection between them, convincing Jax that this was a friend he had thought dead. 

Clenching his mechanical fists, he glanced at Yon, hoping his rival wouldn't blame him for splitting from the pack, and going to protect those who needed him. Yet the words never left his lips, his heart trembled as it was conflicted. His friend or his Master. The choice was eating at him. He knew how chaotic the galaxy was, how his disappearance could affect the raid. Only he and Yon had practiced the mantra recorded in the records…if Yon should perish, then it would fall upon him to complete the ritual. 

Yon noticed this glance, and shook his head with a scowl. “Master saved your life, took you in like his own flesh & blood. Look at you, getting cold feet now. Is your princess so important when his life is on the line?” 

Jax sharply exhaled. “...I don't know how to explain it, but the Force is warning me. Telling me that if I don't go to rescue her now, we will regret it.”

“And I'm telling you now, if Master dies today because you decided to fulfill some noble side mission, I won't let you off.” Yon harshly whispered, then roughly shoved him forward. 

“If it is one of our own who requires rescuing, perhaps a pair of Knights could peel off from the main attacking force, and go in search of them.” Obi-Wan leaned in close, and suggested. “Afterall, this mission is to save Master Windu, it would be unfair to leave any Jedi to rot behind.” 

Jax could only nod in agreement, although he felt as if Master Kenobi was incorrect. He sensed that only he could fulfill this mission. 

“Bah, save your breath, Obi-Wan.” Yon said in a disrespectful tone, disregarding his rank in the Order. “Jax thinks he is the main character in a holodrama. The only way to get him to act is to present him with a noble goal.” 

“Watch your tongue, Padawan.” Infil’a grumbled from behind, the intimidating looking man's words practically echoed within the sewers. 

“Or what, old man? You all survived thanks to my Master's warning. Not a single one of you sensed the clones betrayal, nor did you Masters sense that Palpatine was a Sith despite being in the same room as him. As far as I'm concerned, you're all dead weight. If it weren't for the fact that I'm only a kid and not strong enough in the Force, my brother and I could do all this ourselves. Bringing you trash along means we'll have to fight our way through. Hmph, so uncivilized.” Yon didn't even bother looking over his shoulder, and using some sign language he learned from his master, gave them his middle finger. 

Infil’a had dark lines on his face, and was held back by a smirking Malicos. 

“This Revan character must be a handful if he raised his student to act like this. Obi-Wan, is he truly trustworthy, can Windu be saved?” Shaak Ti said in concern. 

“...I admit, he's difficult to work with, but his track record speaks for itself.” Obi-Wan hesitated at first, but eventually spoke in Revan's defense. 

“We're here.” Jax hurried to say, gesturing towards a blastdoor. 

He was glad that the conversation had come to an end. Although he disagreed with Yon's choice of words, in principle, he agreed with everything his rival said. If the Jedi were so great, why did they currently find themselves in such dire straits? Why were they forced to act like Womp Rats, and skulk into their own home. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward, then turned back to address everyone: 

“Alright everyone, I don’t think it needs to be pointed out, but there are several incredibly dark presences up ahead. It is likely we shall be dealing with Dark Jedi, and as detailed in the report before we departed, Sith alchemical monsters. Remember what we are fighting for. This is our home. Jedi Knights of the Republic, advance!” 

Jax turned to Yon, and gave him a look. His shorter, black haired friend rolled his eyes, and silently grumbled, but nodded along. 

“Master has taught us many lost Jedi artes. Please do not resist.” Jax also addressed everyone, and then-working together with Yon-began to apply [Energy Resistance], [Blunt Resistance] & [Force Barrier] to everyone. 

Although the shields weren't as impressive as their Master's, they could help block a few stray blaster bolts, a powerful sharp claw, or one to two Knight-level Force abilities. 

“So he has taught you.” Malicos muttered greedily. 

“Enough. We have wasted enough time as it is. I shall take point.” Infil’a brushed past everyone, and with a swipe of his green lightsaber, and a flick of his hand, knocked the thick durasteel doors down with a blast of psychic might. 

Yon flashed him a bloodthirsty grin, then turned invisible. “As Master would say, gank the strong ones while they're occupied, and cull the adds whilst so you don't get surrounded. Let's go!” 

Jax massaged his temples, those two had been playing too many videogames during their down time. A tight smile graced his face, and he shook his head. Going invisible, he followed Yon. As they shared a Force Bond, they could reveal themselves to one another despite having their auras restrained to everyone else. Running ahead of the main assault force of Jedi, their campaign of terror had begun. 

~~~~~~~~~

Whilst the Jedi survivors were infiltrating via the sewers, their enemies were gearing up in preparation for their arrival. 

The armory beneath the Imperial Palace thrummed with a low, constant vibration. Rows upon rows of ARC Troopers prepared themselves for combat. Blue detailed armor plates snapped into place. Power cells were locked into rifles with decisive clicks. Visors flickered to life, as HUDs came online. Squad after squad reported to their team leader. 

At the center of it all, surrounded by some of the most grizzled clones to survive the last five years of chaotic battle stood Commander Blitz.

His armor bore the scars of a hundred campaigns. Old scorch marks were worn with pride, proof that he remained standing, that he had outlasted the billions of brothers who had perished before him. Unlike the shinier troopers roaming the halls like cannon fodder, Blitz did not bother with their obsession with regulations. Trained to be a free thinker, his gear was functional, lethal, and came equipped with several surprises. 

Blitz moved down the line, inspecting his men.

A thousand soldiers, each one donning the unique ARC outfit, they were a sight to behold. Ordinarily, a Legion may field two squads of these special forces units. Perhaps only 50 men would campaign against a planet or system at a time. Now, however, the bulk of the best clones had gathered in one place. 

Veterans, every single one of them. Each man present had marched into the gauntlet of Order 66 and come out the other side alive. They understood the stakes of their mission. 

“Final checks.” Blitz said, his voice cutting cleanly through the chamber over the comm channel. 

A chorus of confirmations came back instantly as his squad leaders checked in. 

“ARC-17, green.”

“ARC-402, green.”

“ARC-999, ready.”

There were no wasted words, bravado, or even eagerness. Every man was cold with his intonation, speaking like the professional killers that they were. 

Blitz reached one trooper and paused. He adjusted the man’s shoulder plate by a fraction, then grunted. 

“Your camo shroud was off by 0.3 degrees. A Jedi can notice such discrepancies.” Blitz said in warning. 

“Yes, sir.” The trooper saluted. 

Blitz continued down the line, his thoughts turning towards today's mission. 

Guard the Imperial Palace. 

A simple mission on the surface. An entire Legion of troopers were posted here ordinarily. A million brothers were more than sufficient to protect one man. However, after the near misses earlier in the week with the freighter crashes, Command had other ideas. 

Imperial Intelligence had made their assessment clear: a Jedi incursion during the trial of Mace Windu was highly likely to occur. 

And tonight, this old home of theirs was bait.

Blitz didn’t question orders, all he did was execute. 

Ending his march, he stepped up onto a raised platform. As he reached the top, a thousand helmeted heads turned toward him in perfect unison.

“You all know the objective. We hold the Palace, and kill as many Jedi as possible. The Emperor commands that we capture any that offer themselves in surrender.”

A few subtle shifts among the troopers, but they tamped down on their curiosity fast. Each trooper knew he was nothing more than a tool. That to serve the Empire gave them purpose. 

“Jedi are fast. Faster than you. Stronger than you, and as much as it pains me to say, more lethal than you.”

He let his words hang in the air, then he nodded. 

“But we are not those shinies outside who march towards the enemy in lines, nor do we form up close to one another. To slay a Jedi, we shall spread out, contest chokepoints, and lay down a large swath of covering fire. At times, shooting empty air, or blasting the ground with explosives can limit their mobility, boxing them in.” 

Blitz nodded along, as his words began to hit hime. 

“We go fast. We go hard. There is no time for sympathies or hesitation. They are not our Generals anymore, we are in charge of our destiny now. For the Empire!” 

“For the Empire!” The ARC Troopers slammed their fists onto their breastplates, and called out in unison. 

“Move out.”

The battalion surged outward, like an uncontrollable stream that had breached a dam. Boots thundered in perfect cadence as they advanced through the wide corridors of the Palace’s lower levels. Tactical overlays lit up across their HUDs. Kill zones, choke points, fallback positions, they were all set up, and occupied. The architecture of the old Jedi Temple had been repurposed into a weapon of war. Defensive emplacements sat where meditation alcoves once stood, and turret nests replaced once calming sanctuaries. 

Setting up barricades at a primary junction-three corridors that met and led to the Emperor's private quarters-units split without needing orders, each squad peeling off to secure their assigned sectors.

As Blitz comfortably posted up in an impromptu command center, a thunderous explosion rocked the lower levels. 

The entire corridor shuddered, and dust cascaded from the ceiling as a warning tone blared across the network.

[SECURITY ALERT: LOWER LEVEL BREACH DETECTED. REPEAT: LOWER LEVEL BREACH DETECTED.] 

“All units, converge on breach point Aurek-Seven. Form assault wedge gamma. Live-fire authorization granted.”

“Copy.”

“On the move.”

“Wedge forming.”

Troopers flooded in from adjoining corridors, assembling with frightening speed. Within seconds, the loose, yet tight formation locked into place. 

“Remember your training, and you might just take a Jedi with you.” Blitz said over the comms as he viewed the scene through a trooper's head mounted camera. 

The corridor ahead was damaged, with smoke curling from a blown durasteel door that hung twisted inward like torn metal flesh.

Vision was scarce, and a tense silence gripped the hearts of the men. 

Then a green beam of plasma lit up the dark. Blue, yellow, and even one or two purple bars of super hot death were quick to join it. 

“Open fire!”