Jedi Insurgency 298

(AN: We're going to skip the Mon Mothma convo to get the ball rolling)

~~~~~

After chatting with Mon Mothma, Corvus discovered that she had convinced the Mon Calamari to join the fight, which was a rare W. 

In the lore, Mon Cala had held out for years under Imperial siege, their shields were top of the line. Hence their famous MC80 cruiser, which could go toe to toe with Star Destroyers. Furthermore, she had secured funding, material and other supplies from dozens of neutral systems, a true boon to the Alliance. 

Unfortunately, Mon Cala was tucked away in the far north-east of the Outer Rim. With hundreds of Imperial systems in between, and interdictors at every choke point, they wouldn't reach Kuat anytime soon. 

Once that had been handled, Corvus had been left to stew in his quarters, actively meditating and practicing his newfound abilities. Occasionally emerging to instruct the Bad Batch, or offer Yon a hint of wisdom, it wasn't until the tenth day of their journey that Corvus had attained inspiration. Although he couldn't vaporize the pair of enemy fleets-and whatever surprise he had sensed waiting in the midst-he did have a plan. 

For it to work though, he would have to link up with Clip first, and prove a theory of his. At the moment, the fleet element had used their sublight drives to flee the Kuat system, and were hanging out at the edge of an asteroid cluster. Due to the powerful Interdictor technology, they had been unable to retreat to hyperspace after their last sortie, and were forced to retreat by any means necessary, or face extinction. 

Standing from meditation, and leaving his quarters, he stepped onto the bridge. Yon and Hunter were already sitting in there, waiting for him, whilst Tech & Crosshair were manning the guns. 

“Wee woo wrrrr.” 

“I didn't forget about you, R4, thanks for looking after the ship.” Corvus said with a smile, patting the dashboard. 

“Vrrr.” The droid brain chirped, acknowledging him. 

“Shame you didn't let us stop at Ilum to build our lightsabers, General, but a rescue is a rescue.” Hunter said in a somewhat disappointed tone, but shrugged his shoulders accepting the reality of the situation. 

Corvus wordlessly withdrew five sabers from his inventory-ones he had collected across his battles & the deceased Jedi-and floated them over. “Keep them well. Once we have an opportunity, we will find a kyber crystal that suits you. However, do not treat these blades merely as tools. The little ones will be your greatest comrade in arms if you can get them to understand you.” 

“Riiight. Sorry, General, but all this mystic voodoo nonsense is taking some time to get used to.” Hunter said skeptically, and scratched the back of his head apologetically. 

“Focusing upon them can enhance your abilities in the Force. If you know, you know.” Yon added, sharing his two creds. 

Corvus didn't continue to banter, as his visions had become increasingly poignant. The variance in time meant that the Starcrusher Corp could already be destroyed. 

Glancing at the instruments on the bridge, he pulled a lever, and exited hyperspace. 

“WERRRRR!!!” R4 yelled out in shock at what he had just done. 

“But the navicomputer said we aren't there yet, we could fall into a gravity well, or aste-ASTEROIDS!” Hunter shouted in warning pointing at the incoming swarm. 

The Falcon-coated in an [Energy Resistance] shield-lost its invisibility as it collided with several oncoming basketball sized space-rocks. Coming at them at incredible speeds, the ship rocked and jerked from side to side as the mini-asteroids were exploded into space dust. Juking and weaving, Corvus evaded anything bigger than a double decker bus, whilst objects the size of an SUV were blasted through. 

“By the Force, you just about gave me a heart attack there, General! Warn a man next time.” Hunter said, breathing out a deep breath, and clutching his heart. 

“I find your lack of faith in Master disturbing.” Yon chided. 

“Don't play dumb, kid, I can see your hand going white from clenching the arm rest.” Hunter scoffed. 

“What was that, Youngling?” Yon asked, keeping his face dead ahead. 

“Enough. We are here.” Corvus sternly said, stopping their banter. 

Ordinarily, he was happy to see Yon leave his malicious ways for some slightly nefarious banter, but now wasn't the time to be joking around. He had barely saved Windu before, now, he had Clip, Pots, the Ongree, HK's, and the rest of the Starcrusher Corp to worry about. 

“Yes, sir.” Hunter saluted from his seat, sitting up ramrod straight. 

“Master.” Yon bowed. 

Satisfied with their responses, Corvus maintained radio silence as he approached the Republic fleet. Many of the Venators & Acclamators were scarred, showcasing how brutal the fighting had been. Most had light wounds, with three or four barely appearing spaceworthy. Alongside them were a few dozen extra large transport craft solely dedicated to moving men & supplies, clearly these were for moving the men of Eriadu. 

At the moment, the ships had all their lights off, or windows completely sealed, with zero communication coming in or out. Likely they were only relying upon probe droids or passive sensors to receive data. 

Drawing near the flagship Venator, the main hangar slowly opened up, and he landed the Falcon inside. Once they had landed, he walked down the landing ramp flanked by Yon & CF-99. An honor guard of Marines was waiting for him, and escorted them to the bridge. 

Although not a word was said, Corvus could sense the Marines’ excitement: it was electric. Images of him must be spreading across the ship, because that energy was spreading faster than the bubonic plague. This savaged fleet, this unit of sailors on the verge of giving up finally had the one thing that saw them win time and time again. And his name was General Revan! 

When they reached the elevators, they had passed by hundreds of troopers. The clones had come out in force, and silently stood at attention, saluting him as he passed. Several dozen Marines slammed the butt of their rifles upon the deck, the punched their fists into their chests. Notably, there were even a handful of Weequay in the crowd, staring at him with open curiosity. 

“This way, sir.” The leader of the honor guard gestured towards the turbolift, about to punch in the coordinates for the bridge. 

“Take me to medical, Sergeant.” Corvus rasped. 

The Marine froze in place, then followed his command. Jolting upward, the elevator soon dinged as they reached their destination. 

Strolling into the large hall full of beds, bacta tanks, and the smell of disinfectant, Corvus clenched his fists behind his back. White robe swaying behind him, he took large strides forward, drinking everything in. 

Amputated limbs, lost eyes, chemical burns, disfigured faces, they had it all. During the second sortie, the fleet had picked up many, many wounded. However, that was well over 15 days ago. One could only imagine the horror Pots & his men were undertaking at the moment. How many wounded brothers were forced to be left behind during a retreat, or how many chose to make a last stand, going out in a blaze of glory knowing they'd only slow their comrades down. 

Most of the patients were in a medically induced coma, or pumped so full of meds to scare away the pain that they were barely lucid. Those who had a mind to think stared at him hollowly. There were one or two who glared at him hatefully, and a few who were cognizant enough to recognize hope had come. However, the vast majority of victims were numb, staring at him like ghosts bereft of the will to live. 

For once, Yon, and the men of CF-99 were blessedly silent. There were no witty quips to be made. Everyone here recognized the gravity of the situation. 

With a tired sigh, Corvus closed his eyes, and focused. Drawing upon every ounce of his power, he let loose with an incredible ability. One that in the past, required him to be on top of a Nexus, or act as a Champion of the Force. Now, it was an act that ‘merely’ took all of his concentration and focus. 

Casting his will out to encompass the entire fleet, he cast [Shadow Heal Inspire Followers]. Seconds later, a dark green light tinged with a heart of gold spread across every clone, Eriaduan, or pirate who was within the nearby space. 

Limbs regrew, long term illnesses were cured, and perhaps just a bit of their aging was slowed down. Morale began to sore through the air, swelling into a real, tangible thing. 

Now that they were Force Sensitive, even the perpetually unruffled, unfrazzlizable men of the Bad Batch felt awe. Yon's eyes were wide open as he took in every gesture, knowing that one of his Master's abilities was in fact one that taught pupils simply by watching. 

Of course, he could have healed everyone the second he landed the Falcon, but he wanted to see for himself with his own eyes the pain and sacrifice the Starcrusher Corp had undertaken. To internalize this information, and use it as fuel for his own drive. It was one thing to campaign ‘for the Republic’ or even the Jedi whom he had only just reconciled with. But these guys? These guys were his boys, his day one supporters. He had ripped them out of a comfortable future as the Empire's enforcers, and as a reward, promised them more war. If there was anyone he owed, it was them. 

Meanwhile, the formerly sick and disabled ripped tubes out from their throats, sliced casts off, and tossed aside bloody prosthetics, cluttering the ground with dried blood and unwanted instruments. It started with one, then more started to follow. In just a minute, every one of the former wounded had taken a knee. The honor guard were no different, quickly following suit. 

Corvus lifted a hand, forcibly raising them to their feet. “To you who have sacrificed so much, given everything in the name of the Republic…you have earned your honors. Much more, you are my brothers, you kneel to no one.” 

Several of the brothers embraced one another, others silently balled their eyes out, whilst some simply plopped down onto the deck disbelieving that their nightmare was over. However, [Shadow Inspire Followers] was quite subversive, and this outpouring of emotion was quickly absorbed, and cast aside. All potential PTSD had been completely erased, and they were all standing, beaming with pride. 

Walking out of the back of the hold, a tiny brown-skinned alien slowly walked over, walking stick in hand, and a cast wrapped around his foot. 

“You're late.” The Weequay man hissed, heavily leaning upon the walking stick, and ‘gasping for air’ as if he had run a marathon for dramatic effect. 

“I heard about your heroics. I owe you, Hondo.” Corvus said, reaching out a hand to shake. 

“Ah, ah, ah, it's still sore, you know. Handing out alms isn't cheap, you know?” Hondo swiftly withdrew his hand as if touching Corvus was like coming into contact with a stove. 

“Credits are of no issue.” Corvus assured. 

“Credits?! Does the Pirate King deign over your petty credits, Jedi?!” Hondo said dramatically, yet his nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed. 

Hondo was genuinely pissed. No, practically apocalyptic in his rage. What the alien wanted was not money, it was… 

“Heh. So that's how it is.” Corvus smiled, then lifted Hondo into the air, levitating him in place. 

“What are you doing? Put me down, put me down! Hondo is going to barf over your boots on the count of three, one-!”

Corvus pulled out his lightsaber fast as lightning, and signed his name on the cast, working his blade so cleanly, that a mistake of a millimeter would fry the limb off. Then, turning away, with his back turned to the alien, he walked towards the elevator. 

“Thank you, Hondo, for everything. I owe you one.” 

“Hmph, who wants your filthy thanks? Can I wash my boots with your thanks?” Hondo muttered to himself as the elevator doors closed. 

However, when the clones crowded around him, and began to express their thanks at a timely supply or for being pulled off world & rescued, the Weequay couldn't fight the smile tugging at the corner of his lips no more.