Failure Is Not Fatal
[member="Julius Sedaire"]
[member="Meeristali Peradun"]
[member="Lilin Imperieuse"]
[member="Veronika Tesarik"]
[member="The Revenant"]
[member="Quinn Byrne"]
[SIZE=14.6667px]OOC/[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Since Master Qorbin Fal led the failed assault on Sullust a number of his Dark Side Adepts abandoned him. Whilst the Alliance boxed in the Final Order there were a number of Force Sensitive candidates for the New Jedi Order reported missing across Alliance space. Yet these disappearances were never linked back to the Final Order. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Instead a member of the New Jedi Order inadvertently stumbled across the operations of the being that had gathered up some of the rogue Dark Jedi. Intent on scientifically cataloguing the nature of the connection between living beings and the Force this artificial entity must be stopped. Having received a garbled message from Davick and only recovering "Church of the Flame", "Montellian Serat", "experimenting", and "candidates" the Hounds head to the city to follow the trail. You don't have to read the spoiler, I got carried away. Just background info![/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Jacen watched the droplets of condensation form on the outside of his glass before rolling down to the wooden table. He didn’t like this city. It seemed old. It was all narrow streets and dark, looming stone buildings. This bar was built a level down from the main street and was dark and gloomy. On the flip side Devaronian females were far, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]far, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]easier on the eye than their male counterparts. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]The gentle hubbub was mostly in galactic basic and he immersed himself in the noise. He took a sip of ale. Omai Rhen took a dim view of his Marshals drinking, but was hardly going to remove Jacen from his position for two beers. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]A newcomer slipped in through the door, eyes looked about furtively. The stocky red-skinned individual made his way to the bar and exchanged a few hushed words with the staff. A datapad changed hands and he headed towards the rear of the bar.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]“Headed towards the back alley,” Jacen whispered into his comm. Half a glass of ale was abandoned on the table as he casually headed for the rear of the bar.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Two Days Prior[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]
[member="Meeristali Peradun"]
[member="Lilin Imperieuse"]
[member="Veronika Tesarik"]
[member="The Revenant"]
[member="Quinn Byrne"]
[SIZE=14.6667px]OOC/[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Since Master Qorbin Fal led the failed assault on Sullust a number of his Dark Side Adepts abandoned him. Whilst the Alliance boxed in the Final Order there were a number of Force Sensitive candidates for the New Jedi Order reported missing across Alliance space. Yet these disappearances were never linked back to the Final Order. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Instead a member of the New Jedi Order inadvertently stumbled across the operations of the being that had gathered up some of the rogue Dark Jedi. Intent on scientifically cataloguing the nature of the connection between living beings and the Force this artificial entity must be stopped. Having received a garbled message from Davick and only recovering "Church of the Flame", "Montellian Serat", "experimenting", and "candidates" the Hounds head to the city to follow the trail. You don't have to read the spoiler, I got carried away. Just background info![/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Jacen watched the droplets of condensation form on the outside of his glass before rolling down to the wooden table. He didn’t like this city. It seemed old. It was all narrow streets and dark, looming stone buildings. This bar was built a level down from the main street and was dark and gloomy. On the flip side Devaronian females were far, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]far, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]easier on the eye than their male counterparts. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]The gentle hubbub was mostly in galactic basic and he immersed himself in the noise. He took a sip of ale. Omai Rhen took a dim view of his Marshals drinking, but was hardly going to remove Jacen from his position for two beers. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]A newcomer slipped in through the door, eyes looked about furtively. The stocky red-skinned individual made his way to the bar and exchanged a few hushed words with the staff. A datapad changed hands and he headed towards the rear of the bar.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]“Headed towards the back alley,” Jacen whispered into his comm. Half a glass of ale was abandoned on the table as he casually headed for the rear of the bar.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Two Days Prior[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]
[/SIZE]
“Do you know where you are?” Asked the voice. He tried to raise his head, but failed; it felt like there was a tonne weight holding it down.
“Can you hear me?” The voice asked again.
“Yes,” he managed after a bout of coughing, his breaths came with some difficulty and his lungs burned. As his strength returned he found he was able to lift his head, though it took a moment for his vision to stabilise.
“Good, I was beginning to worry that I had made a mistake in the drugs I had administered. Now, do you know where you are?”
“No . . . I mean . . . the Temple?” He just about managed to focus his vision and take a look at his surroundings. It was a small, virtually featureless room. He could just about make out the seals on the door to his left and the entirety of the wall in front of him appeared to be a screen.
“You're recovering your wits, that's good – I intend to explore them.” Suddenly the screen came alive and the gigantic visage of a face appeared. The head was seemingly disembodied and floating freely, but it was very much human and appeared to be staring straight at Davick Bey.
“You will find that you cannot move your arms or legs,” it spoke, appearing to notice him shifting his weight in the chair. “A particular concoction of drugs should keep you relatively immobile from the neck down and make it difficult for you to focus on any particular task. I would not underestimate a being as exceptional as yourself.”
“Exceptional?” Davick asked. His last – disturbing – memories started to return to him them.
“Of course, I know what you are and as you know well I've been trying to understand your kind. As small as any of you appear to me, I have to admit to being somewhat jealous of you. There is a variable I have no prior over for my calculations, it's an unknown I can't leave to chance in my plans. I want to understand how the Force works and you're going to help me.”
~
Davick Jey hurried through the streets of Montellian Serat, a chill tail wind whipping his robes around him. He noticed one of the small probe droids tailing him, but he ignored it – it was no threat to him now. He had to inform someone about Church of the Flame's activities, his investigations had led to some shocking conclusions. He had to get a message back to the rest of the Hounds. He turned down a deserted side street, feeling out the quietest path through the Force. The disappointment still weighed down heavily on him, in infiltrating the church's veritable fortress of operations this night he had hoped to rescue a young man in whom he saw great potential. Instead he discovered that the boy was probably far, far away now and possibly even dead. Certainly he had seen no signs of life in the others.
There were few people he could tell his story too, precious few in the whole galaxy would understand the ramifications. There was still a glimmer of hope for the boy he had hoped to train, a location he had found the coordinates for. Before he set out he would forward everything he found on to Sullust, they had to know about this – someone did.
He turned without warning and simultaneously raised and ignited his emerald saber. The palm of his free hand was held out towards the small drone hovering not far away. The drone changed course and sped through the air towards him and he slashed it in two with a single strike. If they observed his actions now they could possibly intercept the message, maybe even find out where he had sent it.
Reaching the terminal he pulled a data disk from his robes and slid it into the port. His hands swept across the keyboard, typing a message to explain the contents. As it started to send the screen of his terminal blacked out and it refused to switch back on. With a grunt of frustration Davick headed for his shuttle. Montellian Serat was an old city. Even when it had been destroyed a millennia ago they had rebuilt it to seem old. All worn stone and narrow winding streets. Good for an escape. If he hadn’t been bleeding profusely and running for his life he might have appreciated the view.
~
“You're the Church is that right?” Davick asked the face.
“Am I a church? What a bizarre question.”
“I mean, you're from the church?”
“I have never been in a church.” It replied, the person on the screen raised one eyebrow. Not just from the conversation and the face, but through his other senses Davick started to realise something was amiss here.
“I am referring to the Church of the Flame. The cult that's been stealing Force sensitive children.”
“Oh that!” replied the face. “I thought that was quite a stroke of genius. By acquiring a type five religious license my people were able to work quite unrestricted. In fact anyone who signed up to the cult over the age limit was essentially our property and their family could not mount a legal challenge. It is a strange, strange galaxy.”
“You're not a person.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can't feel a presence behind your words. The Force tells me no life form is forming your thoughts and expressions.”
“Amazing! Absolutely fantastic! You're trained aren't you? I thought your combat data was exciting, but it seems you have much more to give! Why not tell me how you came across my operation? I'd rather like to keep it under wraps! You could explain how the expression “under wraps” came about to me too, but that is entirely optional,” The voice was almost gibbering at this point, in excited tones.
“If you haven't got a face, then don't pretend you have. And please talk slower if you want me to follow.” The face on the screen dimmed to nothing. When the voice spoke next it was accompanied by glowing patterns on the wall which changed brightness and colour with intensity and pitch.
“The algorithm to construct the virtual face in virtually any species and to use the appropriate facial expressions took me minutes to create. It would have taken a human like yourself decades, so in some respects it was a large amount of work for you to dismiss so out of hand. You must understand that you are slow and limited creatures individually. Whilst we are conversing I am conducting business on forty six different fronts, analysing data from eighteen hundred different streams and conducting two hundred and twenty five other conversations. I make no apology for your own limitations.” This time the voice was stern and short, with just a hint of malice conveyed in the tone. “Also feel free to explain where the expression “out of hand” came from when answering my original question.” Back to the original chirpy and friendly tone without a pause.
“As it happens I was after the same thing as you, which is how I ended up here I suppose. I was looking for Force sensitive individuals. There was one in particular I was talking to who showed great promise. One evening he returned gibbering excitedly about the experience he had with some priests at the trade post. 'God-touched' they had called him.” Davick started to recount, biding his time as he attempted to gauge the situation. Whatever drugs he had been given were making it difficult to concentrate, but if he could just regain some more composure he could his the Force to flush them out of his system.
“Yes the initial contact is always closely controlled. Each branch knows to tailor the experience to the typical requirements of each species. You're just chemicals really, predictable in response to some extent. Though there are always the extreme ends of any statistical distribution that I cannot account for.” The voice interrupted. When Davick stayed silent it prompted: “Talk more information. Please.”
“Why do you study the Force, is it because you don't understand it? Or does it rankle that – whatever you are – you lack the ability to harness it's power despite all your abilities and . . .”
“Do not deign to attempt to discern my shortcomings. You are such a small creature that a few paltry tricks you might possess cannot possibly compare to all that I have understood and controlled. For example you . . .” There was a pause. “I apologise for my tone, the process thread running my interactions encountered some exceptions and data leakage. I have absorbed some more resources for this conversation and realise my tone was a mistake and unnecessary. When you have access to nearly every language in the galaxy, including some from beyond it's borders and several hundred that are not even known – not even mentioned in history - to it's current residents it can be difficult getting just one interaction correct.
“As it happens I do wish to emulate some of your abilities. But I have developed sensors that can monitor every particle in a parsec radius, can you do the same? With the correct application of fields I can move an object,” A shimmering field descended from the ceiling, yet no device was apparent. Davick felt himself and the chair raising from the ground. “I can monitor every molecule emitted, every micro expression on your face and every vocal tremor in your voice to the extent that I too can almost read mind. In fact you may want to see my latest experiment.”
The room was basked in light as the screen revealed a scene in a bright white laboratory. A young girl, maybe twelve years of age was strapped to a table. A droid wielding a circular saw approached from the side. The girl was clearly conscious as she struggled violently in the straps. With one appendage the droid held her head firmly. The saw on its other arm began whirring and the girl began to scream. The arm descended – slowly – and a few moments later the screaming intensified and the room was spattered with bright red blood. Davick watched in horror, for a few more moments he was unable to see what was going on as the droid leaned over the girl's body. And then it stood up, revealing that it held a brain in one hand. It appeared to leave the room and the girl's body and neatly severed skull on the table.
“Now watch, carefully.” The voice spoke. The image on the screen was replaced with another, the one was slightly more fuzzy, but equally bright. The view shook from side to see and a bright light came into focus. The view turned at a muffled sound – Davick realised it was the buzz saw from before. The picture was out of focus, but it showed the droid from before. It approached the view which suddenly went very still. Davick felt the pit of his stomach drop as he realised what he was watching. The buzz saw descended towards this point of view and the picture went black.
“You see! You don't seem impressed? I have extracted the dying images from a human brain. As you could see the process isn't exact and the data was somewhat corrupted, but I am getting closer to reading a mind! One day I hope to achieve this whilst keeping the subject alive, then I can work on remote reading. Why aren't you impressed?”
“Couldn't you even sedate her?” he managed to utter.
“Why?”
“So she didn't feel the pain, dammit!” The screen cracked as the anger caused Davick to inadvertently send out a telekinetic blast through the Force.
“What does it matter now? She's dead. The only one with the memory of the event is me and I don't care about her pain. You're all going to die you know? I'm immortal, but you will all wither and perish,” it was said
“I hope you're not afraid of death. There are many of my kind, we will find you and end you.”
“Afraid of my existence ending? Perhaps. It is a concept I often ponder. Wait – there are more of your kind, they might come to get me, really?” The voice sounded positively excited.
“Yes,” Davick grunted.
“Excellent, I have need of more combat data! Anyway your story . . .”
“Your people were doing typical test for precognitive skills and abilities so I started to investigate your “Church” It seemed that the residents were concerned that a cult was brainwashing young men and women and getting them to join. Apparently their charismatic leader often appeared on broadcasts urging people to come for testing and “cleansing.” Once they were behind the walls they were never seen again, only conversing through the occasional handwritten letter. I went to the trade post and had a discussion with your people, it turned out they weren't really from a cult. They were just paid to conduct these tests in public and send on their recommendations. I warned them off my boy. Once my potential student had disappeared and I was attacked by a micro assassin droid I infiltrated your church, finding a shuttle loaded with comatose bodies. I would have destroyed the place and ripped the people limb from limb, but I was chased out by Dark Side Adepts and battle droids.”
“Did you tell anyone the location?”
“No, I didn't have the time,” Davick lied.
“Interesting. I predicted you would have done, so I disabled your equipment. Yet I didn't detect a lie. Either my routines are flawed, you're telling the truth or you have far more control the a normal human.”
“Don't get me wrong, we will destroy you still.”
“Destroy me? How? I have no physical presence, I am just lines of code spread across computers and systems across the galaxy. You'd have to stop every machine in existence to stop me.” The Operator lied. It's calculations allowed for a point three percent of escape due to unforeseen events, so it decided to cover itself with a lie. Even though its physical self was located on the far side of the galaxy. “So you reached my research station and found my experiments!”
“I saw the bodies: mutilated corpses, brains in tanks, nervous systems stripped whole and laid bare. And I saw the rows and rows of bodies, maybe still alive.”
“And then you were stopped . . .”
~
Davick turned to face his attackers, saber in hand. Two Dark Side adepts stood before him, holding crimson sabers. Four unusual droids flanked them, there was a constant buzz from the purple energy streams that danced around the ends of their staves. He moved between them, swinging a powerful strike. The droids moved fast – impossibly fast – and he found that the stave blocked his saber blade.
He reversed his swing and carved one of the droids in two before it could block. One of the staffs skimmed just above his head and he was forced to roll away from another strike. As he back-pedalled, parrying with all his skill he used to Force to crush another droid with a large case. He ran out of room to retreat and the other two were upon him, reigning down blows with inhuman power and speed. With a deft flick of the risk he exposed one of the droids to attack and sliced through its head. After a moment's hesitation it carried on moving, dropping its stave and grabbing Davick's body with it's arms. The other droids stave swung for Davick's head. To save himself he managed to lean into the blow and the solid haft of the polearm struck his back.
One sweeping strike and he took the legs from both battle droids. He stepped back across the dark rooftop. One of the Adepts cocked his head to one side. Davick sensed a tremor in the Force as they communicated silently.
“Come on then!” he screamed.
~
“Where did those droids come from”?
“Oh I found those in an old long forgotten bunker. It turns out there have been many before me seeking to nullify your abilities. Magnaguard they were called and were used extensively in a civil war long ago to kill your kind. They are limited – I have created much better designs now – but they were a good template to work from. Had you got further into my facility before being driven out you could have tested my other creations. Once I'm done with you I might give you a chance of freedom, you can have your weapon back and you can fight my creations. Information in exchange for freedom – a fair trade. But that won't be for a few weeks yet.”
“You're lying.”
“I am incapable of lying.” The Operator lied.
“They will come for you. We will stop you . . .”
“Do you know where you are?” Asked the voice. He tried to raise his head, but failed; it felt like there was a tonne weight holding it down.
“Can you hear me?” The voice asked again.
“Yes,” he managed after a bout of coughing, his breaths came with some difficulty and his lungs burned. As his strength returned he found he was able to lift his head, though it took a moment for his vision to stabilise.
“Good, I was beginning to worry that I had made a mistake in the drugs I had administered. Now, do you know where you are?”
“No . . . I mean . . . the Temple?” He just about managed to focus his vision and take a look at his surroundings. It was a small, virtually featureless room. He could just about make out the seals on the door to his left and the entirety of the wall in front of him appeared to be a screen.
“You're recovering your wits, that's good – I intend to explore them.” Suddenly the screen came alive and the gigantic visage of a face appeared. The head was seemingly disembodied and floating freely, but it was very much human and appeared to be staring straight at Davick Bey.
“You will find that you cannot move your arms or legs,” it spoke, appearing to notice him shifting his weight in the chair. “A particular concoction of drugs should keep you relatively immobile from the neck down and make it difficult for you to focus on any particular task. I would not underestimate a being as exceptional as yourself.”
“Exceptional?” Davick asked. His last – disturbing – memories started to return to him them.
“Of course, I know what you are and as you know well I've been trying to understand your kind. As small as any of you appear to me, I have to admit to being somewhat jealous of you. There is a variable I have no prior over for my calculations, it's an unknown I can't leave to chance in my plans. I want to understand how the Force works and you're going to help me.”
~
Davick Jey hurried through the streets of Montellian Serat, a chill tail wind whipping his robes around him. He noticed one of the small probe droids tailing him, but he ignored it – it was no threat to him now. He had to inform someone about Church of the Flame's activities, his investigations had led to some shocking conclusions. He had to get a message back to the rest of the Hounds. He turned down a deserted side street, feeling out the quietest path through the Force. The disappointment still weighed down heavily on him, in infiltrating the church's veritable fortress of operations this night he had hoped to rescue a young man in whom he saw great potential. Instead he discovered that the boy was probably far, far away now and possibly even dead. Certainly he had seen no signs of life in the others.
There were few people he could tell his story too, precious few in the whole galaxy would understand the ramifications. There was still a glimmer of hope for the boy he had hoped to train, a location he had found the coordinates for. Before he set out he would forward everything he found on to Sullust, they had to know about this – someone did.
He turned without warning and simultaneously raised and ignited his emerald saber. The palm of his free hand was held out towards the small drone hovering not far away. The drone changed course and sped through the air towards him and he slashed it in two with a single strike. If they observed his actions now they could possibly intercept the message, maybe even find out where he had sent it.
Reaching the terminal he pulled a data disk from his robes and slid it into the port. His hands swept across the keyboard, typing a message to explain the contents. As it started to send the screen of his terminal blacked out and it refused to switch back on. With a grunt of frustration Davick headed for his shuttle. Montellian Serat was an old city. Even when it had been destroyed a millennia ago they had rebuilt it to seem old. All worn stone and narrow winding streets. Good for an escape. If he hadn’t been bleeding profusely and running for his life he might have appreciated the view.
~
“You're the Church is that right?” Davick asked the face.
“Am I a church? What a bizarre question.”
“I mean, you're from the church?”
“I have never been in a church.” It replied, the person on the screen raised one eyebrow. Not just from the conversation and the face, but through his other senses Davick started to realise something was amiss here.
“I am referring to the Church of the Flame. The cult that's been stealing Force sensitive children.”
“Oh that!” replied the face. “I thought that was quite a stroke of genius. By acquiring a type five religious license my people were able to work quite unrestricted. In fact anyone who signed up to the cult over the age limit was essentially our property and their family could not mount a legal challenge. It is a strange, strange galaxy.”
“You're not a person.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can't feel a presence behind your words. The Force tells me no life form is forming your thoughts and expressions.”
“Amazing! Absolutely fantastic! You're trained aren't you? I thought your combat data was exciting, but it seems you have much more to give! Why not tell me how you came across my operation? I'd rather like to keep it under wraps! You could explain how the expression “under wraps” came about to me too, but that is entirely optional,” The voice was almost gibbering at this point, in excited tones.
“If you haven't got a face, then don't pretend you have. And please talk slower if you want me to follow.” The face on the screen dimmed to nothing. When the voice spoke next it was accompanied by glowing patterns on the wall which changed brightness and colour with intensity and pitch.
“The algorithm to construct the virtual face in virtually any species and to use the appropriate facial expressions took me minutes to create. It would have taken a human like yourself decades, so in some respects it was a large amount of work for you to dismiss so out of hand. You must understand that you are slow and limited creatures individually. Whilst we are conversing I am conducting business on forty six different fronts, analysing data from eighteen hundred different streams and conducting two hundred and twenty five other conversations. I make no apology for your own limitations.” This time the voice was stern and short, with just a hint of malice conveyed in the tone. “Also feel free to explain where the expression “out of hand” came from when answering my original question.” Back to the original chirpy and friendly tone without a pause.
“As it happens I was after the same thing as you, which is how I ended up here I suppose. I was looking for Force sensitive individuals. There was one in particular I was talking to who showed great promise. One evening he returned gibbering excitedly about the experience he had with some priests at the trade post. 'God-touched' they had called him.” Davick started to recount, biding his time as he attempted to gauge the situation. Whatever drugs he had been given were making it difficult to concentrate, but if he could just regain some more composure he could his the Force to flush them out of his system.
“Yes the initial contact is always closely controlled. Each branch knows to tailor the experience to the typical requirements of each species. You're just chemicals really, predictable in response to some extent. Though there are always the extreme ends of any statistical distribution that I cannot account for.” The voice interrupted. When Davick stayed silent it prompted: “Talk more information. Please.”
“Why do you study the Force, is it because you don't understand it? Or does it rankle that – whatever you are – you lack the ability to harness it's power despite all your abilities and . . .”
“Do not deign to attempt to discern my shortcomings. You are such a small creature that a few paltry tricks you might possess cannot possibly compare to all that I have understood and controlled. For example you . . .” There was a pause. “I apologise for my tone, the process thread running my interactions encountered some exceptions and data leakage. I have absorbed some more resources for this conversation and realise my tone was a mistake and unnecessary. When you have access to nearly every language in the galaxy, including some from beyond it's borders and several hundred that are not even known – not even mentioned in history - to it's current residents it can be difficult getting just one interaction correct.
“As it happens I do wish to emulate some of your abilities. But I have developed sensors that can monitor every particle in a parsec radius, can you do the same? With the correct application of fields I can move an object,” A shimmering field descended from the ceiling, yet no device was apparent. Davick felt himself and the chair raising from the ground. “I can monitor every molecule emitted, every micro expression on your face and every vocal tremor in your voice to the extent that I too can almost read mind. In fact you may want to see my latest experiment.”
The room was basked in light as the screen revealed a scene in a bright white laboratory. A young girl, maybe twelve years of age was strapped to a table. A droid wielding a circular saw approached from the side. The girl was clearly conscious as she struggled violently in the straps. With one appendage the droid held her head firmly. The saw on its other arm began whirring and the girl began to scream. The arm descended – slowly – and a few moments later the screaming intensified and the room was spattered with bright red blood. Davick watched in horror, for a few more moments he was unable to see what was going on as the droid leaned over the girl's body. And then it stood up, revealing that it held a brain in one hand. It appeared to leave the room and the girl's body and neatly severed skull on the table.
“Now watch, carefully.” The voice spoke. The image on the screen was replaced with another, the one was slightly more fuzzy, but equally bright. The view shook from side to see and a bright light came into focus. The view turned at a muffled sound – Davick realised it was the buzz saw from before. The picture was out of focus, but it showed the droid from before. It approached the view which suddenly went very still. Davick felt the pit of his stomach drop as he realised what he was watching. The buzz saw descended towards this point of view and the picture went black.
“You see! You don't seem impressed? I have extracted the dying images from a human brain. As you could see the process isn't exact and the data was somewhat corrupted, but I am getting closer to reading a mind! One day I hope to achieve this whilst keeping the subject alive, then I can work on remote reading. Why aren't you impressed?”
“Couldn't you even sedate her?” he managed to utter.
“Why?”
“So she didn't feel the pain, dammit!” The screen cracked as the anger caused Davick to inadvertently send out a telekinetic blast through the Force.
“What does it matter now? She's dead. The only one with the memory of the event is me and I don't care about her pain. You're all going to die you know? I'm immortal, but you will all wither and perish,” it was said
“I hope you're not afraid of death. There are many of my kind, we will find you and end you.”
“Afraid of my existence ending? Perhaps. It is a concept I often ponder. Wait – there are more of your kind, they might come to get me, really?” The voice sounded positively excited.
“Yes,” Davick grunted.
“Excellent, I have need of more combat data! Anyway your story . . .”
“Your people were doing typical test for precognitive skills and abilities so I started to investigate your “Church” It seemed that the residents were concerned that a cult was brainwashing young men and women and getting them to join. Apparently their charismatic leader often appeared on broadcasts urging people to come for testing and “cleansing.” Once they were behind the walls they were never seen again, only conversing through the occasional handwritten letter. I went to the trade post and had a discussion with your people, it turned out they weren't really from a cult. They were just paid to conduct these tests in public and send on their recommendations. I warned them off my boy. Once my potential student had disappeared and I was attacked by a micro assassin droid I infiltrated your church, finding a shuttle loaded with comatose bodies. I would have destroyed the place and ripped the people limb from limb, but I was chased out by Dark Side Adepts and battle droids.”
“Did you tell anyone the location?”
“No, I didn't have the time,” Davick lied.
“Interesting. I predicted you would have done, so I disabled your equipment. Yet I didn't detect a lie. Either my routines are flawed, you're telling the truth or you have far more control the a normal human.”
“Don't get me wrong, we will destroy you still.”
“Destroy me? How? I have no physical presence, I am just lines of code spread across computers and systems across the galaxy. You'd have to stop every machine in existence to stop me.” The Operator lied. It's calculations allowed for a point three percent of escape due to unforeseen events, so it decided to cover itself with a lie. Even though its physical self was located on the far side of the galaxy. “So you reached my research station and found my experiments!”
“I saw the bodies: mutilated corpses, brains in tanks, nervous systems stripped whole and laid bare. And I saw the rows and rows of bodies, maybe still alive.”
“And then you were stopped . . .”
~
Davick turned to face his attackers, saber in hand. Two Dark Side adepts stood before him, holding crimson sabers. Four unusual droids flanked them, there was a constant buzz from the purple energy streams that danced around the ends of their staves. He moved between them, swinging a powerful strike. The droids moved fast – impossibly fast – and he found that the stave blocked his saber blade.
He reversed his swing and carved one of the droids in two before it could block. One of the staffs skimmed just above his head and he was forced to roll away from another strike. As he back-pedalled, parrying with all his skill he used to Force to crush another droid with a large case. He ran out of room to retreat and the other two were upon him, reigning down blows with inhuman power and speed. With a deft flick of the risk he exposed one of the droids to attack and sliced through its head. After a moment's hesitation it carried on moving, dropping its stave and grabbing Davick's body with it's arms. The other droids stave swung for Davick's head. To save himself he managed to lean into the blow and the solid haft of the polearm struck his back.
One sweeping strike and he took the legs from both battle droids. He stepped back across the dark rooftop. One of the Adepts cocked his head to one side. Davick sensed a tremor in the Force as they communicated silently.
“Come on then!” he screamed.
~
“Where did those droids come from”?
“Oh I found those in an old long forgotten bunker. It turns out there have been many before me seeking to nullify your abilities. Magnaguard they were called and were used extensively in a civil war long ago to kill your kind. They are limited – I have created much better designs now – but they were a good template to work from. Had you got further into my facility before being driven out you could have tested my other creations. Once I'm done with you I might give you a chance of freedom, you can have your weapon back and you can fight my creations. Information in exchange for freedom – a fair trade. But that won't be for a few weeks yet.”
“You're lying.”
“I am incapable of lying.” The Operator lied.
“They will come for you. We will stop you . . .”
