This is a new project I'm working on. It will be updated semi-regularly until I get bored with it, which will hopefully not be until it's completed. I'm sure that many of you will find this a familiar story; I feel very inclined to tell my version of it. If you figure you know what's going to happen, please try and avoid spoiling the story for anyone else who may possibly be reading. With all of that being, said, good day, and enjoy!
"My Lord," a maroon-skinned Twi'lek officer, garbed in a fine grey uniform adorned with medals that glinted in the light of the Praetor's bridge, said, catching the attention of the dark figure gazing through the observation window. "I have news."
The figure did not turn. A long, dark cloak obscured his figure, a hood completing the visage; the man, if even what was hidden in that shell of cloaks and armors could even be called a man, was forgotten, his face lost to time. Against the backdrop of the stars in front of him, he was small, his stature hardly intimidating. Yet at the same time, there was an air about him, an aura of unmatched authority and power.
He said nothing, continuing to watch the dim stars. Finally, the built-up tension in the air broke as the figure spoke, his voice quiet, yet powerful, filling the vast bridge of the warship. "I trust your reasons for interrupting me are adequate, Admiral. I have no time for trivialities."
"This is no triviality, my Lord," the Admiral replied, standing erect as he prepared his well-rehearsed report. "Our scouts have detected a Republic force gathering not an hour's hyperspace jump away. We do not know their purpose, but we believe they are planning an attack of some kind, though I do not know what targets they would have their gazes set upon."
The figure stood for a moment, in thought. "Tell the scouts to remain where they are. Do not engage the enemy; merely observe."
"My Lord?" the Admiral asked, not understanding, "do you not expect them to attack?"
The figure replied, his back still turned on his subordinate. "There are few areas of strategic importance in this area, if any at all. I do not take the Republic admirals for fools; in fact, I know many of them. There is some other scheme at work here. A trap, perhaps, but for what, I do not know. My fascination now is with finding out." The figure thought for a moment before continuing, "I want you to send a message, Admiral."
"As you wish, my Lord," the Twi'lek replied. "What is the message?"
The figure waited a moment before replying. "Order all available ships to rendezvous with the Praetor and the Leviathan. They have one hour to respond, and then we will move forward."
"Surely you do not mean to attack the Republic fleet, my Lord?" the Admiral questioned. immediately regretting the action. "F-forgive-"
"I do mean to attack the Republic, Admiral," the figure cut him off. "Do you have concerns?" his voice was not threatening, but genuinely curious.
"It's just," the Admiral chose his words carefully and slowly, "did you not say that this was a trap?"
"It is, undoubtedly, a trap," the figure replied with confidence, "and we shall press them into springing it. They are baiting us, yes, but I suspect they are not fully prepared for an attack. If we strike now, we may catch them off-guard and force them to resort to whatever plan they have been preparing. Now give the order for the fleet to assemble."
The Admiral bowed low, despite the fact that the figure still had his back turned to him. "As you command, Lord Revan."
A sharp rumble jarred Aaron to consciousness, his eyes snapping open. A tremor caused him to jolt from the bunk he had been sleeping in; he looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. The blast door in front of him opened, a soldier garbed in a suit of red and black Republic armor quickly stepping through. His face showed some relief to see Aaron, but it soon turned to urgency.
"We've been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet!" he warned.
Oh shit, Aaron immediately thought, knowing fully well what the Sith were capable of.
"The Endar Spire's under attack!" the soldier continued, interrupting Aaron's thoughts. "Hurry up, we don't have much time!"
Who the hell is this sod? Aaron growled in his head, inwardly bristling at this soldier who expected to order him around. "Who are you?"
"I'm Trask Ulgo, ensign of the Republic fleet," the soldier replied, as if the title had been rehearsed a dozen times over. "I'm your bunk-mate. We work opposite shifts, which is probably why you haven't seen me before. Now hurry up, we have to find Bastila. We have to make sure she makes it off this ship alive!"
Bastila's a damn Jedi, Aaron thought. She's more than capable of handling herself. "Shouldn't we worry about ourselves for the moment?"
The response caught the soldier off-guard for a brief moment, and he paused; his composure was quickly regained however, and he replied, "You and I swore an oath, just like everyone on this mission, to keep her alive. Now it's time to make good on that oath."
Why? Aaron was temped to ask again, irritated by the blindly loyal attitude his bunk-mate displayed, but a shudder from the ship as it took more damage made him decide against it; playing along would at the very least get him a meat shield that he could use to make it through the ship to the escape pods. "Fine."
"Good," Trask said. "Hurry up and grab your gear, unless you plan on fighting the Sith in a jumpsuit."
Don't get smart with me, Aaron wanted to snarl. He had a lot more experience than this obviously green recruit; he should be the one taking the lead. Instead, he held his tongue and took two quick bounds to his locker, opening it with a deft movement.
Inside, hung up on the rack, was a suit of light-brown light Echani fiber-armor, a gift from a previous employer. Aaron took this and slipped it on, feeling comfortable in the familiar garb; it allowed him to move quickly and freely, but it also provided a decent amount of protection.
Concealed by the armor was a short sword, the blade made from energy-resistant cortosis material. Next to it was a modified blaster pistol. Aaron picked it up and examined the calibrated scope, making sure it was set up properly; he was careful not to disturb the installed hair-trigger, as the slightest movement could accidentally fire the weapon; the beam splitter installed in the weapon made it all the more dangerous.
He turned the safety on the gun and put it down, reaching into the locker and pulling out a grey belt; a stealth-field generator. Compared to some of the pieces of stealth technology in the galaxy, it was pathetically mundane, but the device got the job done, and was one of Aaron's most valuable tools. He fastened it around his waist and belted his short sword to it, placing the blaster pistol in its holster. He turned around, acknowledging Trask with a curt nod. "Let's kick some ass."
