Robes
"I take it you are intimately familiar with
Sith Lightning and what it does? Nasty bit of business, that lightning is, but not one without weakness. While yes, it is a force based attack, at the end of the day Sith Lightning is no different from the lightning found in atmospheric storms, and while it may be directed at certain locations, it does not need to necessarily impact those locations. That's why we've developed the
Mahporeenian Lightning Collector and the
Mahporeenian Lightning Rod as countermeasures against the Sith. I'm hoping they'll serve us and well, and I imagine they might be something you could use in the future."
"Actually, this is prime development." Mykel complimented.
"You've learned to exploit certain techniques that involve transmuting our power into real world analogues." Already he was thinking of ways to implement the Mahporeenian platform into his strategies.
"I imagine you have a great many things to share, but yes, let's get one with that demonstration."
One short tram ride later, Mykel and the Maphoreenians arrived at the lab section, a sterile world of crisp white walls and stinging antiseptic odors. As they walked the length of the corridor, various experiments and prototypes could be seen through panes of specially treated transparisteel. Engineers and technicians moved between test stations while drones hovered nearby, recording telemetry.
Some of the observation panes bore a frosted veil instead of clear glass. The shapes moving behind them were indistinct, only silhouettes and flashes of light. More dangerous work. Or projects belonging to clients who preferred a little more discretion.
The trek ended at a large chamber laid out like a gymnasium and firing range combined. Closed racks of weapons lined the near wall in orderly rows. Across the floor stood androids and humanoid biots frozen in place like statues, each clad in vicious black armor sculpted in the cruel and intimidating aesthetic of Sith warplate.
If any among Tane's entourage possessed any Force sensitivity, they would notice the strong taint of Dark Side energies radiating from the machines. Even those deaf to the Force would feel a strange chill hanging in the air of the room.
A large metal table before the weapon racks held a spread of equipment, including several of the
Kitetsu Cyclers now mounted onto combat belts for the demonstration. Standing beside the table was a grinning human male, broad-shouldered and muscular, already wearing one of the rigs. He was lightly armored in a black
armoreweave body glove with a simple plate carrier across his chest and tawny ballistic glasses perched over his eyes.
"This is Sergeant Barca of Hades Platoon," Mykel said.
"He was a good sport and volunteered to provide the initial demonstration."
"Oh, I'm just a kid in a candy store," Barca said gleefully, a manic glint dancing in his eye. He absolutely loved his job, especially the part where he got thrown headfirst into Sith like an angry hornet.
"I love walking away with new gizmos to glass Sith ass."
Mykel chuckled softly.
"One drill sequence without the Kitetsu enabled. Then on for the second."
The Knight lifted a datapad from the table and tapped through a sequence of commands. Meanwhile, Barca rolled his shoulders once and stepped toward the center of the chamber. He selected a long slightly curved
vibro-arbir blade from the rack along with an
energy buckler.
A moment later one of the
armored figures among the statues stirred.
Servos whined as the hulking Sith warbot powered to life, crimson optics flaring beneath its helmet visor. The machine carried a long training great saber, the weapon igniting with a burning crimson blade.
The droid lunged first.
The red blade scythed toward him in a lightning-fast diagonal cut meant to split him shoulder to hip. Barca pivoted hard on his heel, the strike hissing past his chest as he slipped inside the arc and hammered the buckler forward into the warbot's chestplate. He followed immediately with a vicious upward slash of the vibro blade toward the droid's weapon arm. Sparks sprayed as the edge scraped across armored plating.
The warbot reacted instantly. Its movements were brutally efficient, every motion tuned to mimic the speed and ferocity of a Sith warrior. The saber whipped around again in a tight circular strike that forced Barca to duck low and roll clear across the floor. He came up on one knee, shield snapping up just in time to catch the next blow. The red blade smashed against the shield with enough force to drive him half a step back.
"Okay," Barca grunted, still smiling.
"Spicy boy."
The Ranger surged forward, moving with impressive precision, cutting angles, striking the droid's joints, hammering it with shield checks meant to disrupt its balance. For several exchanges he held his ground, the hiss of energy filling the room as blade and shield met the warbot in rapid succession. The Hades veteran lived up to his reputation as one of the most vaunted melee fighters of the Antarian Rangers.
But the machine began to accelerate.
Its strikes grew faster. Harder. The rhythm shifted from probing blows to relentless assault.
The saber hammered down in a brutal overhead strike that forced Barca to block with both shield and blade. The impact drove him down to a knee, leaving an indent on the matted floor. The warbot then stepped in close, finishing off Barca with sudden pulse of repulsor energy erupted from its chest unit, emulating a Force Wave. The invisible shockwave hit Barca square in the torso and hurled him backward across the room. He skidded across the floor before landing hard on his backside with an ungracious thud.
Barca blinked up at the ceiling, then let out a short laugh as he rolled onto his feet again.
"Alright, didn't love that."
He was a man that hated losing, even it was on purpose to a tin head to make a point.
"Now," Mykel said calmly, as he commanded the droid to retreat and reset for the next sequence.
"let's give the Sergeant his sails."
Barca pushed himself back to his feet, rolling his neck with an audible crack. His irritation lasted only a second before that manic grin crept back across his face.
"Alright. Round two, tin man."
He glanced down at the belt rig and flipped on the cycler with his thumb. Kitetsu's crystalline receivers started to hum, the Kyber lattice lighting up within as it basked in the blighted aura of the Sith warbot. The Ranger's posture had changed almost immediately. His shoulders loosened. His stance settled lower and more balanced. The manic spark in his eyes sharpened into something focused and predatory.
"Oh yeah," Barca muttered.
"That's the good stuff."
Across the room the Sith warbot had fully reset its stance, red blade held low and ready.
Barca took a slow breath, then deactivated his energy buckler, blades only this time around.
As before warbot attacked first, its crimson blade came screaming toward his collarbone in a vicious opening strike. Barca shifted effortlessly, slipping inside the arc with a tight pivot, the saber passing so close it hummed past his cheek. His vibro-arbir blade snapped upward in a brutal counter, the edge biting hard into the warbot's elbow joint with a shower of sparks.
The machine recoiled half a step while Barca pressed forward immediately in the same stroke.
His movements had gained an uncanny fluidity, as if he could see the patterns of the droid's attacks before they fully formed. He ducked beneath a horizontal slash, drove his shoulder into the warbot's chest, then spun with a vicious backhand strike that rang off the machine's helmet.
The warbot accelerated like before to overwhelm him, lightsaber arcs carving through the air so fast that red streaks were left as afterimages, yet Barca met them head on.
Without the shield he fought aggressively, blade darting in sharp intercepts as he battered the droid with elbows, knees, and brutal close-range slashes. Sparks flew as his vibro blade chewed into armor seams the warbot hadn't needed to protect in the first round.
In desperation machine drew its trump card, repulsor unit flaring again. The shockwave slammed outward. This time Barca didn't move. The invisible blast struck him square in the chest. A
thin shimmer of energy rippled across his body like heat haze. Barca's boots slid back half a step, but he held his ground, teeth bared in a feral grin.
The warbot advanced again and Barca surged to meet it. He slipped past a saber strike that should have split him open, pivoted hard, and slammed his vibro blade straight into the droid's shoulder joint with a two-handed thrust. The edge bit deep into the thin plating, grinding through servos beneath. The warbot jerked violently as its arm locked. Barca yanked the blade free and followed with a savage spinning kick that hammered the machine in the chest.
The hulking droid staggered back three full steps.
It was then that Mykel killed the power to the droid, freezing it in place just as it was shifting to charge the Sergeant with spiked gauntlets. Barca depowered his blade and Kitetsu unit in turn, breathing hard but hacking a few laughs between panting.
"That's a good place to stop. Those things are quite expensive you know."
"Got a little carried away."
"Oh it's fine Sergeant, better to let our friends see the true extent of Kitetsu."
He looked over to Tane.
"Was that to your liking?"
Ronhar Tane
of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant, seeking an audience with the one they call Masamune. Just recently, we answered your call to arms in the defense of Atrisia and the other Core Worlds of the once great Galactic Alliance. Now, we humbly request that you return the favor and grant us a meeting with your leaders, so that you may help defeat our most hated foes!"
Mykel Dawson
