The Doppelganger
Kai felt violence on the other side, then a ripple through the barrier. He stepped back just as the window was yanked off its frame, revealing the chaotic scene beyond.
Dagon was wild-eyed, wreathed in crimson blaster fire. A darker red stained the fur lining of the jacket he’d worn to the arctic, blood smeared across his neck by sweat and exertion. He held a blue lightsaber in his hand, activated. Kai stared at the weapon before he heard Dagon speak, two commands.
He started to climb out the window as Dagon made short work of the next wave of soldiers. The Lady’s hands curled into sharp talons, blood-stained fangs bared as she took a step forward—but one look from the Jedi, his burning blade in hand, was enough to make her think twice about lunging for them. Her prize was lost. Time to work out a Plan B.
Standing on the other side, Kai reached a hand toward Dagon, pressing his palm to the wound on his neck. Assuming Dagon didn’t move away, he would feel the mild antiseptic sting of low-grade bacta—or some substance with similar effects which the Doppelganger had secreted from his own body. It wasn’t much, but it would quicken the healing process somewhat. It was also sort of gross, but that was likely the furthest thing from Dagon's mind at the moment.
He followed Dagon as the Jedi made his way forward, pushing through the seemingly endless supply of troops arriving to stop them. They shot to kill, not to stun. Kai grimaced as a stray bolt struck his shoulder, though the seared flesh was already on the mend. He reached out a hand toward the soldiers.
Amelia had been right—he had absorbed some of Dagon’s Jedi knowledge. But using the Force isn’t as simple as knowing the right techniques. It’s a muscle that must be practiced and honed to be used properly. Kai strained just to take hold of one of the guards, and the jerky, uncoordinated movements of the troop were proof of his lack of control—but he did manage to throw his target into a group of his comrades, knocking several of them over like bowling pins.
“This way,” Kai said, pointing. The direction of the hangar was behind them, but that way was choked with troops. There was another, longer way if they circled around. He had learned the layout of the fortress by tearing the knowledge from the minds of those around him.
Dagon was wild-eyed, wreathed in crimson blaster fire. A darker red stained the fur lining of the jacket he’d worn to the arctic, blood smeared across his neck by sweat and exertion. He held a blue lightsaber in his hand, activated. Kai stared at the weapon before he heard Dagon speak, two commands.
He started to climb out the window as Dagon made short work of the next wave of soldiers. The Lady’s hands curled into sharp talons, blood-stained fangs bared as she took a step forward—but one look from the Jedi, his burning blade in hand, was enough to make her think twice about lunging for them. Her prize was lost. Time to work out a Plan B.
Standing on the other side, Kai reached a hand toward Dagon, pressing his palm to the wound on his neck. Assuming Dagon didn’t move away, he would feel the mild antiseptic sting of low-grade bacta—or some substance with similar effects which the Doppelganger had secreted from his own body. It wasn’t much, but it would quicken the healing process somewhat. It was also sort of gross, but that was likely the furthest thing from Dagon's mind at the moment.
He followed Dagon as the Jedi made his way forward, pushing through the seemingly endless supply of troops arriving to stop them. They shot to kill, not to stun. Kai grimaced as a stray bolt struck his shoulder, though the seared flesh was already on the mend. He reached out a hand toward the soldiers.
Amelia had been right—he had absorbed some of Dagon’s Jedi knowledge. But using the Force isn’t as simple as knowing the right techniques. It’s a muscle that must be practiced and honed to be used properly. Kai strained just to take hold of one of the guards, and the jerky, uncoordinated movements of the troop were proof of his lack of control—but he did manage to throw his target into a group of his comrades, knocking several of them over like bowling pins.
“This way,” Kai said, pointing. The direction of the hangar was behind them, but that way was choked with troops. There was another, longer way if they circled around. He had learned the layout of the fortress by tearing the knowledge from the minds of those around him.
