How do I know you're not making faces at me under that thing? [CIS Dominion of Utapau]

[Malok]

By the time the word 'Ready' had escaped the Archon's lips, the dropship came barreling into the area where Feena had set up shop. With as much haste as their bodies could produce, the members of the Black Watch which had left the Walker position in order to ensure their commanding officer's safety met with a volunteer in order to secure the wounded clone on a stretcher. Genesis was breathing, which was a good sign; but consiousness was lost a long time ago. The front of his typically-pristine, white armor had been charred to black and the smell of melted armorplast characterized his form.

Underneath the melted armor awaited a wasteland of burned skin and pieces of stone which had imbedded themselves in his flesh after the blast. The tired healer had her work cut out for her, for the Grand Marshal's recovery was not going to be a simple patchup job...but the Confederacy had faith in her. Her abilities were the best in the Galaxy, and if she couldn't drag the clone back from the jaws of death...

...then no one could.

@[member="Feena Mason"].

 

[Rayn H'voc]

Sonja had gathered her squad to the Grand Marshal's position and readied themselves to provide cover. "Don't you quit on us now, old man. If you die, i'll kill you. Get 'im outta here. We got this. 119, Omega formation. Protect the Grand Marshal's evac." Sonja was confident in her squad's abilities. She kept them motivated and vigorous. "Ready yourselves, 119. Stay vigilant. Here they come! Don't fire until you can see the sweat dripping from their faces."

The enemy then revealed themselves from behind the wreckage and began firing at the 119's position. The 119 returned fire, in kind. Shots rang back and forth between the two combatants like pod-racers through a canyon. "Keep up the fire! What do I always say 119??" Sonja exclaimed to her squad and they replied "Retreat, hell!"

"This is Captain Sonja Mercier of the 119th. If anyone can hear me, the Grand Marshal has been medevacced. I repeat. The Grand Marshal is headed for safety. And Daxton, if you can hear me. You owe me three drinks, now. 119 out."

@Feena Mason, @Vorhi Alestrani, @Daxton Bane, @Veret Jun, @Kara Avoyos, @Lucious Montross, @Nocturno, @Coop, @Sophia Walsh, @Wiklea Va'nar, @Praxis.

 

[Malok]

Reinforcements came in the form of a dropship, whose passengers eagerly leapt behind the 119th and began firing at the enemy relentlessly. They were Black Watch personnel, fresh from the CIS ships in orbit of the world...and to say that they were enraged was an understatement. They had raised hell in order to get to the next vessel down, and were thirsty for the blood of the rogues who had dared wound their commanding officer. To say the least, this particular section of Utapau was about to get bloody.

"Captain," said one of the Watch, "let's make these bastards pay!"

A resounding cry of battle arose from the Black Watch and they surged forward to assault the incoming enemy; thereby giving the 119th enough room to line up shots without fear of interruption. The combined might of the Black Watch and the 119th would see the decimation of the enemy, one by one.

@[member="Sonja Mercier"].

 

[Darth Metus]

It did not take long before Josiah realized that the thoughts of frustration that guided his blade were actually steps...he was walking, nay running away from the path of Light and quickly descending into the shadow of the Dark Side. Only twice before had he been here, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the anger which burned hot within him...and again, he would recognize this threat. He had to resist the temptation of the Darkness, he absolutely had to.

Yet these days...he was so conflicted. Being a Templar meant accepting things that a Jedi would not; but Josiah had made it clear that he was not a member of the Order. He had left that life behind, for a new one...and in this new life, was the Darkness an enemy anymore? Should he reach out and accept its outstretched hand and wield both shadow and light?

No.

No, this was not him. Regardless of that which he now accepted, regardless of those he called comrade and friend, it was not in him to accept the darkness into himself. The Light was his Path; and while he would always respect the Paths his comrades walked, he would not tread the same ground. He rebuked the Darkness and retreated back from the growing mass of bodies he had created, then reached out with the Force in order to repulse his enemies with a wall of telekinetic Force.

He would not wield the Darkness, not this day. Not any day.

 

[Feena]

There is not a thing I can not do, except lose a patient. I don't lose patients. I just don't. Feena Mason has a reputation to keep. Nobody dies under my care and I am not going to let it slip this time.

Pep talk was essential now. She had downed not one, not two, but three cups of burning hot caf. Her tongue was numb, but she could feel the caffeine waking her mind. That would be enough. As The Grand Marshal was wheeled in though, Feena was having second thoughts for the first time in her life.

As the stretcher was placed at the side of the operating table, Feena quickly observed the wounds. Bad. More than bad. These burns would not heal easily, if at all. What could she do? She would have to... No. She would bridge that road when it came to it. For now, she had to get him stabilized before she even attempted surgery.
1...2...3! The patient was pulled off of the stretcher and onto the table. A half a dozen nurses, doctors and healers surrounded the body, carefully peeling off destroyed armor and burned clothing to reveal the mess beneath.

All the while, Feena had settled herself at his side, one hand over the heart, another gently touching the forehead. While they worked from the outside, Feena needed to work from the inside. He was slipping and would continue to slip until he fell away, unless Feena held him here.

Stay.

Until he was hooked up to life support, until they had him hooked up to a breathing machine, until they could get his heart to beat on it's own, Feena would have to do it for him. Feena would have to force him to stay alive. Feena would have to make him...

Stay here.

 

[Rayn H'voc]

Sonja was relieved at the sight of a Confederate dropship landing at her position. "Reinforcements. Thank the Maker. 119, keep it up!" Sonja motioned the Black Watch over to their position and as they reigned hell on the Combine loyalist's, Sonja yelled in her native tounge "Ouais! Taste my shots you bâtards!" With the aid of the Black Watch, the enemy would be completely eradicated. Sonja was proud of her allies and her team.

"119th. Let's move out." Sonja said before opening her transmission. "This is Captain Mercier. Anyone need sniper support give me a ring." The 119 then checked ammo and began to move out.

@Feena Mason, @Vorhi Alestrani, @Daxton Bane, @Veret Jun, @Kara Avoyos, @Lucious Montross, @Nocturno, @Coop, @Sophia Walsh, @Wiklea Va'nar, @Praxis.

 

[Malok]

It was funny how standing at the door of death would make one see things they normally wouldn't. For some reason, death personified itself was a realm of the purest white, characterized by a single door wrought of stone. Before this door sat a single figure...it was Genesis, or at least, that is what he thought at first glance. There were subtle differences that the clone knew were not his. For instance, the way he wore his facial hair and the scar that marred his face...these features did not belong to the Grand Marshal at all.

But they did belong to the late Supreme Commander of the Republic.

Ah yes, standing before "Death's Door" was Dex Rostu. Genesis took hesitant steps towards the man, which were mimicked in turn. Their approaches were in sync, until they looked one another squarely in the eye. There was...disappointment in the Supreme Commander's expression, and this disappointment was then characterized by a shake of his head. "This was not the Path that you were created to walk, and now look where it's gotten you." he said.

Genesis grit his teeth, but said nothing in response. To this, Dex took as a sign and continued. "You were born, bred, and designed to serve a single purpose. Above all else, your duty was to protect the Republic. Now look at it...a Jedi as a Chancellor with her predecessor fired because of a mercenary cell's orders? The Republic is now the puppet of the Jedi, and you could have stopped this!" The clone...honestly did not know if this was the literal spirit of Dex Rostu ranting before him...or if this was just an opinion that he had buried within.

Regardless of the fact, the experience was still beyond strange; and to top it off, there was a single word that kept tugging at the edge of his attention. It sounded from behind him...back in the World of the Living...It was a voice, asking, nay pleading for him to...Stay. He heard Feena's voice, he wasn't gone yet; but he needed to hear all this out.

So he gave her a sign; something that she could work with in the land of the Living. His hand, laid upon the table, twitched ever so slightly...then his fingers moved, curled, and balled up into a fist. He wasn't going anywhere, not at this moment.

@[member="Feena Mason"].

 

[Darth Metus]

The enemies that were so casually slung aside by Josiah's display of telekinetic might soon arose in an attempt to face him once more. Their blasters fired relentlessly, only for their bolts to be reflected back upon them with a great skill. The Templar, now getting a grip over his emotions, was ready to resume his battle against the rogues with exceptional vigor. However, there was still a touch of calming down to do before he leapt into the thicket in such a violent capacity again. He needed to focus, above all else.

 

[Feena]

Feena did not see his response. She did not see the twitch, she did not see his fingers balled up into a fist. But she felt it. She could feel it. He was there, barely, yes, but there. Alive.

"Look at his hand! Archon! He moved!"

"Hush! Don't you see that she's concentrating?"

And she would continue concentrating for as long as it took. She would be here for days if she had to. Nothing could make her stop. She would run on pure stubborn will if she had to- and she did, quite often. But this was harder than usual. She felt weaker than she had before. Was it the baby? Or was it everything she had done before all this? Was it that time an hour ago that she healed a womans foot? Or was it the little girl who's knee she healed? Well, she wasn't going to regret it. She was going to do her duty. This was what a healer did. And nobody knew it. Nobody truly understood.
Breathing life back into another person, pulling them from deaths door?

It hurt like hell.


Come back. You are not finished yet.


Many hands were hooking the Grand Marshal to machines. Tubes forcing anesthetics, nutrients, and liquids of various colors into his body, dangled from the side of the operating table. A heart rate monitor beeped in a slow, yet steady rhythm. A nurse opened one eyelid flashing a light into it.

"When is she coming back? Is she going to sit like that this whole time!? Isn't she going to just... wave her hand and fix him?"

But it was never that simple. There were too many things to worry about. She wasn't a magician. People were complicated machines and simply healing his wounds on the surface would help nothing.

 

[Malok]

The words uttered from the realm of the living were stronger now; enough so that they carried the weight of an unseen gust. The healer's words reverberated across the realm of white and filled the ears of Dex and his clone with her demand. The truth was there, and Genesis believed it; it was not his time to die. He would not be sucked into the abyss beyond the door and left to fade into the nothingness...no, he would fight and continue on in the world of the living. But before that...

There was a thundering boom.

The sound of fist meeting jaw, carried by the full strength of the clone. By far, this strange representation of Dex was caught offguard by the blow and sent staggering back before toppling onto his rear end. Genesis was furious to say the least; to hear the words spoken by the man who had commissioned his creation..."Stopped it? Path I was created for? Listen to yourself." barked the Clone. He shook his head, absolutely disgusted.

"I was created so that the people of the Galaxy might live free and prosperous by the work of my hands. And that is what I intend to do. Furthermore, it matters not what has transpired in the Republic...for these events have resulted in a peace that the Galaxy has never seen before: a peace between Republic and Empire. Silence yourself and return to oblivion. I'm returning to where I belong."

With that said, the clone turned on his heel and began to walk in the opposite direction. He did not know whether or not he had truly just struck the former Supreme Commander of the Republic, or if this was just some...death-fueled delusion. Whatever the case was, it was coming to an end; for the message he was sending to Feena was clear.

I'm here. I'm not giving up.

@[member="Feena Mason"].

 

[Darth Metus]

With calm washing over him like a mighty tide, Josiah was finally convinced that he was ready to fight, in earnest, once more. His grip tightened upon his lightsaber before he surged bravely forward. The Templar's footsteps were rapid, and the initial blows were quick. With aggression, yet control, he worked through the thinning opposition that still dared to battle against the Confederacy. The Knight simply would not be denied in his quest to eliminate the enemy, and to this end he continued to fight on.

 

[Keter]

The ship tumbled through the air as if falling, spinning wildly. Confused beams of fire seared through the air, but Keter paid them no mind. He was dancing through the Force, weaving between his death like a mad harlequin, laughing all the while. He could feel it. So much passion pulsed through the Force around the planet. So much grim determination. He was too far to identify any individuals, but they all blended into a chorus he knew well. A chorus he had missed in his exile.

A wide smile slashed across his face as he gripped the controls and righted the Fury, the frame groaning in protest as it forced it's way through the air. He could see various blobs on the scanners now, groups of troops from either side. Feena had given him limited access to the Confederacy's network of course, so he could at least identify which side was which.

Problem was, he didn't care.

He was back where he belonged. All the galaxy was a stage, and he was but a player upon it. Where two fought, the third would strike down both. It was all so brilliant! The blond laughed as he pulled the triggers, the laser cannons on his ship bursting into life as he strafed the battlefield. Both sides were struck by laser fire and rockets. Feena had told him to come here. Her o so glorious leader had spoken to him briefly as well. A consultant, he had said. Well, a consultant was a teacher no? So the first thing he could teach the Confederacy was to have a bit more style.

 

[Feena]

I'm here. I'm not giving up.

Good. Because I am not either.

That was fact. In her mind she was strong, stubborn. Even if her body was on the verge of giving out, she would never give up. She would bring him back, she would heal him, or she would die trying- literally.

As people hurried around the body, Feena sat still as stone. As she kept him there, as she held him in place, keeping him alive, she started to work, cell by cell, to repair the damage under the flesh. A slight glow surrounded her hands, almost too faint to see.
She would be here for hours. Maybe even days. And when she was done, oh, she was going to sleep for a week if she could.

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

knock, knock, knock

Lieutenant Colonel Tofi, of the Combine Rouges, was sitting at a table with a holographic image of the battle playing before him. Who the hell could it be? The battle was still far from his position and it made no sense that a messenger would have been sent. "Misk, go see who that is" the twi'lek colonel said to a nearby soldier who saluted and immediately ran over with his gun in hand. The colonel wasn't in some high tech and fancy military center, he was in a damn warehouse in the center of Pau'city. This was unacceptable, how could he run a respectable offensive against a military force like the Confederacy from a warehouse that had none of the technologies or organization of which he was accustomed?

The colonel, and main military commander of the rouge forces, continued to to sulk at his desk until the soldier returned "Sir, it is commander Lok from the pit garrison."

The colonel's eyes shot open and he rushed over to the door, grabbing the door nob and throwing it open. On the other side he found the Twi'Lek commander, covered in someone else's blood and with a terrified look on his face. "Lok, what happened we have been trying to-


The colonel's words were cut off as a blaster bolt ripped through the commander's head and he fell dead to the dirt. There was no time to react before Nocturno appeared from the side of the door and grabbed the colonel by the shirt. The cyborg walked the colonel backward as he entered, his droids storming in behind him and firing precision shots into all the rest within the warehouse. It didn't take long for the clankers to clear the warehouse as it was basically a large open space, only partially taken up by minor military equipment. Nocturno starred into the eyes of the colonel and spoke through a voice of ice "Greetings colonel, I have been awaiting to make your...acquaintance." The cyborg said calmly, his photoreceptors picking out a radio system in corner of the room.


Taking the colonel in hand, Nocturno forced the Twi'lek over to the system and threw him into it "You will order the surrender of all your rogue dogs"


"I will do no such thing, Confederate pig!" The colonel hissed "They will never give into oppression!"


Nocturno didn't react right away, he just gave short electronic chuckle before he moved forward and grabbed one of the colonels brain tails. Violently he slammed the colonel's head into the desk in which the radio sat, shaking the system and the desk "Then those who don't, will die. Order the surrender now or you will too."

 

[Malok]

With each passing moment, the words that the Archon spoke echoed within the mind of the Grand Marshal. His footsteps bore him, diligently, from the brink of death; further and further back into the land of the living. There was still much work to be done on the part of the master healer handling his recovery; but at the very least it seemed as though he would not succumb to the cold embrace of death this day. He was, by and large, shaken by what had transpired at the door of death; but he did not allow himself to dwell on it.

He had to focus on the task at hand, and that task was survival.

Thank you, Feena. I owe you my life.

@[member="Feena Mason"], @[member="Zev Stargo"].

 

[Darth Metus]

Just as it began to seem that victory was close at hand, the left flank was suddenly bolstered by a surge of rogue reinforcements. This was their final line of resistance; their final opportunity to see some semblence of victory this day...As such, they were willing to fight until they very last breath. Surprised by the sudden appearance of rogues, the Templar was forced to back off from his offense and enter a position under cover behind the Confederate lines. This was it, the final stand...and the CIS had to succeed.

At that moment, a transmission sounded in the Knight's earpiece. The 119th was offering assistance to whomever needed it. "This is Josiah, we need backup over here pronto! They're throwing everything they've got at us!"

@[member="Sonja Mercier"].

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Smoke from a cigar floated into the air, but there was no smell nor lingering mist from the tip that wasn't burning. A black suit, shimmered like the surface of water before Genesis. The closer he tried to focus on the figure, the harder it would become to see, as if trying to focus on the vast ocean of Manaan.

"Look at yourself, I've been indisposed for such a limited portion of time and you have already begun losing perspective" a voice like the calm before a storm said. Even in death there not a hair out of place or a spec of dirt on his jet black suit "The netherworld is full of interesting characters, this individual you were cloned after has told me much about his..concerns. You, of all people, should understand the Republics current predicament."

 

[Malok]

This walk along the valley of death had just become immensely more interesting. As the clone continued to tread the path back to the living, he was encountered by the first man he had called "friend". A smile characterized his features as he recognized Zev Stargo; and as such he briefly came to a halt.

"I sincerely hope that you have a cigar to spare," he began, "good to see you too old friend. The Republic's predicament...does it truly concern me Zev? My duty and purpose; my reason for being, is to help the people of this Galaxy. I am doing immense good in the South, so am I doing wrong?"

@[member="Zev Stargo"].

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Zev chuckled, blowing smoke into the air "Unfortunately this is the only cigar I have, no matter how many times I flick it away it always comes back to me. No light, but it appears I no longer require such a thing." Zev paused, looking at his friend with a light and wisdom that was not there when he lived...he had changed immensely since his time as a mortal "I've watched you and the whole CIS as you have grown. I saw that my boy was found and brought into your order, I thank you and that Jedi friend of yours for that. You have done well in the South, much more than I could ever have imagined to do."

Zev walked closer to Genesis and put a hand on his shoulder "My friend, when I was alive I thought of no one but myself...I was as much a ghost in life as I am now. When I first arrived here, I expected to walk into a world of brimstone and fire to be honest. Instead, what I found were many much wiser than I ever was and they taught me very important lessons. I told them of my life, they told me of theirs and I soon came to the revelation that I had done all the incorrect things in my life. Look at what I have done, a niece who loathes that I ever existed, a son who would rather have never discovered my existence and a criminal enterprise that is falling apart at the seams. The only thing I have now is this cigar, well my brother too...but I have a lot to make up to him, I was the one who shot him after all." again Zev paused to take a puff on the cigar, his cold eyes looking at Genesis. After the ghostly smoke had filled his mouth, he pointed the cigar at his mortal friend "Not you, Genesis. You have created something magnificent, but you are doing exactly what I had done in my life. You have let your creation become you, the Confederacy is your only worry and that...my dear, dear friend, is where you fail."

 

[Malok]

There was undeniable truth in the words that the spectre spoke. The Confederacy was the clone's life...every waking hour, every single moment was dedicated to the ever-growning congregation of worlds. There was no question that Genesis had accomplished a large amount of good in the South; yet...was he truly making the same mistakes as his friend? He was working for good, he was working for something great! Something that did good as opposed to harm. How could this possibly be a mistake?

"The Confederacy is my life Zev, it has to be. A wavering leader is one who stumbles and falls...Am I truly going wrong? If I am, how do I fix what I'm doing wrong?"

@[member="Zev Stargo"].