The Weaving Force: Chapter 130 (Patreon)

Chapter 130

Maul:

Maul ran through the chaos of the battlefield, his iron legs pumping, carrying him in a near dead sprint through hails of exchanging blaster bolts, lancing beams of plasma and whistling rockets.

Droids and clones that got in his way were butchered, it didn’t matter which. Ahead of him, Savage rammed through them like a gundark, Mandalorian iron crushing men and flimsy machines beneath hard armor and dark side enhanced sinew. 

Ahead, a gunship howled as it descended, the buffeting winds of the engine exhaust kicking up dirt and grit. Clones moved to get on, only to notice the two of them drawing close before frantically opening fire. 

The ship. Get to the ship!

He kept the thought firmly in the front of his mind, focusing on it, grabbing hold of it. It would be far too easy to turn around and face his pursuer if he didn’t.

The blue bolts splashed over Savage’s beskar armor, and his brother rushed forward with a roar. There were so many bolts that some must have gotten through, but his brother pressed on, heedless, ramming into three soldiers. He grabbed hold of one clone by the helmet, smashing him into the dirt as his lightsaber lit up.

“SITH!” A clone warned, all eyes turning to them and Maul drew his pilfered blaster pistol, firing at one clone leveling a heavy repeater that could do damage even through beskar, nailing the Jedi’s toy soldier with three hits, one to the chest and two to the head before his free hand lashed out, sending a wave of telekinetic force.

The Clones in the gunship’s troop bay were thrown off, sailing out the other side of it, freeing up space so Savage could leap onboard the vessel, his saber making quick work of both the pilots and pod gunners. He didn’t even have time to sit properly in the seat, just grabbing the controls with the corpse still in the chair.

Then the gunship began to rise.

Maul ran, faster and faster, mechanical legs letting him leap to a height he would have found difficult to match even with the Force in years past.

Clawed talons dug into the metal of the troop landing bay, arresting his movement as he lit up one blade of the saber he’d taken, blocking and deflecting bolts as the doors began to close.

Then, the ship groaned, halting its ascent.

“Brother!” Savage called, trying to pull back on the flight controls with one hand even as the other tried to undo the seat belt and force the dead man out of the chair. “Something is stopping us, we’re not ascending!”

Maul’s burning gaze turned, searching down below and finding him.

Kenobi stood amongst his men, hands outstretched, grasping, pulling down with all his strength in the Force, a look of determination on his face.

Maul drew his blaster and shot.

The bolt sailed straight and true, and Maul willed it to plant itself right between Kenobi’s eyes.

But no, the Jedi jerked to the side, dodging, his concentration slipping for just a second, just long enough for the gunship to accelerate once more and take flight.

“Get on the guns! Vultures pursuing us!”

Maul rushed to his station as the troop bay doors closed.

—

In the courtyard below, there was no hesitation, not even a second’s consideration from his counterpart. No further thoughts, no other objective existed in Obi-Wan’s mind. 

“This is General Kenobi! I am enacting authorization code zero-two-two-F-four. I need a fighter landing and pickup at my location immediately! Target is escaping!”

—

Ahsoka:

“Snips, you read me?”

“We read you Master.” She called through the comm, the Negotiator rumbling with incoming fire. 

“The Munificents, they’re circling under the Lucrehulk wreck. You see them?”

She couldn’t, not with her eyes, but a quick glance towards the ships instruments told her that her Master was right. “I see them-”

“They’re trying to get in position for orbital bombardment over the planet. Grievous intends to level everything from orbit. We can’t let that happen. On my order, the Resolute and half our escorts will make a feint for the Providence Dreadnoughts, then pivot at the last second to provide cover for you.”

“Cover for me?”

“You’ll be descending down into the planet. The Negotiator will need to become a literal shield for our men.”

Ahsoka felt the tremor of trepidation in the Clones that heard the command. Half their power would be going to engines to keep them aloft. The other half would be to shields. They’d be sitting ducks, literally fish in a barrel.

But still, it was Miss Taylor and Vicky down there. Obi-Wan. The 501rst, the 212th, the 707th.

They had to do their part. 

“What about the Glory?” She asked.

“Grievous is aboard. I’m sure the ship crews will do their best to help, but we can’t count on them reacting as fast as we need them to, or that critical systems won’t be damaged internally.”

In other words, they were down to just two capital ships.

At least they’d already disabled the Lucrehulk…

“On my order.” And the line was cut.

Ahsoka panned her eyes over the fleet engagement. The Lucrehulk’s corpse was now being used as a ruined barricade by both sides, Munificents and Providence class ships trying to manuever in its shadow, either angling for positioning, or simply trying to buy time for their shields to recover.

Their fleet was doing the same mind you, but she could already tell that her Master was getting sick of the ‘keep away’ game.

The Resolute and the escorts began to move, seemingly angling to circle around the Lucrehulk to the left, as she received orders to circle around the right, a crude ‘pincer’ movement.

The Venator lumbered forward, quietly plodding through the void, the debris of shattered starfighters and bombers scraping off of its hull like metal rain drops in the blackness.

Fleet battles were slow, agonizingly so. It took almost twenty minutes of silence and nothingness for her to even notice an effect.

The CIS fleet, did the equivalent of pouncing on her. Isolated and over extended as she was on the left, the Providence class ships rushing to engage, and their munificent escorts descending down to the planet below.

“Snips, hard dive, Angle the bow to 65 degrees.”

She could feel the Helmsman blanch. He’s insane. Came the harried brush of his surface thoughts.

“You heard him trooper!” She barked.

The man hesitated for a second longer, and then, the colossal thousand meter long ship began to dip.

Tons upon tons of stress made itself known through the moans and groans of the steel, each degree marked by an unsettling strain that she could feel right down through her own feet.

The ship gave a singular great heave gravity beginning to take hold-

“Hah-” A clone laughed, part disbelief, part hysteria. “He’s gone mad.”

She looked to the Clone’s instruments, finding a 3d model of the engagement through the sensor sweep.

The Providence class ships and the escorts following them were hesitating, the sharp angled dive of her own ship looking almost suicidal, like they’d lost control and were in a dead freefall to crash onto the planet. It was no wonder they weren’t in a hurry to chase them. Based on their current trajectory they would make it to the planet before the munificents were in range- but even they might not get there.

Because her Master had just ordered the Resolute to fly straight through the central ring gap- of the disabled Lucrehulk, the massive ship avoiding exchanging paint with the carrier by the skin of its non existent teeth. 

Hell, in the hologram it looked as though they were crashing, the sensors frequently needing to reset as the Venator kept on ‘clipping’ through the Lucrehulk’s hologram. 

She laughed as well, sheer disbelief coating her voice as the Venator’s guns opened fire on the Providences and they scrambled to answer back and get into formation. 

The escort vessels followed right behind him, and behind her, the last three escorts rushed to intercept the Munificents directly.

“We’ll cover you snips. Go get our friends.”

She nodded, turning her attention to the burning planet below. “Copy that Master.”

—

CT-2603:

There was a horrible, screeching sound, the sound of metal tearing and of wires being ripped out of place. Lights flickered, blaster bolts lit the hallway, lightsabers snapped and sparked. Blue, green, yellow. They cast long shadows, his helmet visor flickering more than once, trying to compensate for the altering light levels. 

And throughout all this chaos, all this insanity, there was one thought that grounded him, that stiffened his spine and made him stand shoulder to shoulder with his brothers, even when he knew there was almost no chance. 

‘Don’t let the General down.’

It was a simple, absurd thought. But this was the way of the 707th. They knew their job and they did it. They fought the toughest battles, took on the impossible odds.

Because they had the Invincible Jedi with them.

And when she wasn’t with them, then they had to fight anyway. Because they couldn’t just rely on her. They had to fight with her.

They couldn’t let her down.

Grievous tore through men like flimsiplast, chokepoints and firing lines were bypassed with the monster tearing through whole walls and Iskt, the General’s Padawan, was stuck in the thick of it with the metal monster.

He was outclassed, overpowered, but he was the only one that could even slow him down. 

Grievous grappled with him, arms that could shatter tank armor plowing the Trandoshan youth through walls of durasteel. Lightsaber blades burned ineffective against reddened scales, making the monster more and more frustrated and angry. But whenever the fight looked to swing, whenever Iskt was down and open, the little General, Karla, would slip into the fight like a living shadow.

She darted through hails of blaster fire like water slipping through a net, her lightsaber blade scoring glancing, distracting blows against the armored monstrosity. Against anyone else the fight would have been over. Head, neck, spine, thighs. But Grievous just snarled, the metal glowing hot for a second as he rounded on her and tried to kill her, only for Iskt to lunge after him, and Karla to slip into shadow again. Even when 2603 tried to follow her and track her with his own eyes, she was nothing but mist and smoke to his eyes.

He prayed he didn’t shoot her by accident. 

Blaster bolts pelted off Grievous’ armor like rain, grenades went off and barely staggered him, ion blasts sending corruscating lightning bolts forking across his metal frame barely fazed him.

Nothing was working.

But they had to hold him off.

Because even though they were here, the ship crew was still at work, still participating in the battle. Gun crews were firing, hangar bays refueling and rearming starfighters, command and control still helping to coordinate.

And the General was still down on that planet.

And they couldn’t let the General down. 

So more men came. More blasters, more bodies to throw in his way, to keep him in place, to die for just a few more seconds.

A single anti-armor rocket sailed down the hall, and the explosion knocked 2603 on his ass, the air bursting out of his lungs, his insides and chest hurting from the concussive wave. His brothers near the fight must’ve been killed, and just a few paces behind 2603, a heavy trooper was loading up another shot.

Grievous roared, howling with fury as he stepped out of the flames.

But there was a rent in his armor. His chest was sparking, organs exposed for the first time he could remember. 

The cyborg pulled back his arm and threw.

Lightsabers didn’t fly fast. Too little weight.

But when thrown by a cyborg with the physical power to tear through meters thick armor with his bare hands, they flew fast enough.

One second his brother was hefting the rocket launcher onto his shoulder. The next, a saber was piercing through his face.

His brother stumbled, seemingly confused, wondering why his body wasn’t responding before he fell over.

2603 didn’t think, just moved, scrambling to pick up the rocket launcher.  

Grievous snarled, on all fours, four limbs becoming six as he skittered and skuttled along the ground, the roof and the walls, running men down and tearing into them. Lightsabers, clawed feet, or just pure crushing force behind his metal body and limbs left men broke and armor shattered, a trail of blood and corpses left in his wake. 

By the time 2603 even had the launcher on his shoulder it was too late. All four blades were practically bearing down on him, ready to cut him to pieces.

Time seemed to slow, the world almost pausing as 2603 wondered if he could escape, drop the launcher, step back, live for just that little bit longer.

But then the opportunity would be lost.

They wouldn’t get another one.

Don’t let the General down.

It really was that simple.

He pulled the trigger. 

—

Maul:

They broke atmosphere into absolute chaos in the heavens above.

The ships were fighting almost directly above the temples below, practically in knife fighting distance. Neither side giving an inch, and even from what Maul could see, they were accelerating towards each other, trying to make certain they controlled the space above the moon. 

Small starships dueled directly around turbo laser exchanges between capital ships. The shrapnel of shattered bulkheads and torn open hulls mingled in with the fragments and shards of destroyed fighters, occupying the empty void between the larger vessels.

The Lucrehulk was a blasted ruin, hanging like a burning, plasma leaking rock above Yavin, dying if not dead already. Its guns were silent, engines firing sporadically as each fleet was now simply using it as a piece of cover to maneuver around. 

“Get us close to the Republic ships.”

“I understand.” Savage nodded, obeying as he banked to the right. In all the confusion and chaos, it was unlikely the fleets were even aware a LAAT had been stolen quite yet. 

That was all the opening they needed. 

The plan was simple.

They couldn’t take the ship they’d arrived on Yavin with. It was old, slow, and the Separatists already knew which ship it was and its signature. If they tried to flee, they’d be intercepted with a tractor beam immediately. He had no doubt Sidious had placed him as a top priority target. 

So, steal two other hyperspace capable ships. One for Maul, one for Savage and the children. His brother could take them, and Maul could make noise elsewhere, away from them. He was the priority, not Savage, or the little brothers and sisters. 

Then, after Savage had secured them, his brother could join him.

Neither the Republic or the Separatists had been stupid enough to descend hyperspace capable starships down to the planet.

But he’d bet they had more than a few in their own hangar bays.

Suddenly, alarms blared on the gunships control panel and Savage jerked the ship to the side, the sudden lurch nearly making Maul trip as he stumbled over the corpse of the dead clone. 

Narrowly, they avoided two disabling ion shots that zoomed past them from behind. 

Maul growled; Now aware of the threat, he became aware of the presence following after him.

Kenobi.

His heart punched under his ribs, pulse throbbing through his veins, the edges of his vision becoming red as fury burned through his insides like a reignited brushfire.

If Kenobi wanted a fight…

He grabbed hold of his stolen Mandalorian helmet, grabbing Savage’s helm too and tossing it into his brother’s lap. “Put that on. Seal it.”

Savage didn’t hesitate on obeying, switching between piloting and manipulating the helmet onto his own head. “What are you going to do?”

“Get to a Republic ship.” Maul said, barely hearing the hiss of Savage’s pressure seal before he opened the bay doors.

Maul was rocketed out into space, the sharp acceleration enough to send feelings of pain through his body as pure inertia whiplashed him like a doll.

He righted himself, zeroing in on the rapidly approaching target before activating his jetpack.

The ship was faster, if he missed, he’d never catch it, and he’d run out of fuel long before he made it anywhere near any other ship.

He didn’t miss.

The ship’s speed and his own jetpack gave Obi-Wan zero time to react, and even as Maul saw him jerk the controls at the last second, realizing what the hell was about to happen, the Sith assassin launched a steel wire grappling hook from his stolen Mandalorian wrist guard.

The hook mag locked onto the wing, and Maul barely had time to twist coiling the cable around himself and pressing his arm to his stomach.

The wire pulled taut in a nano-second and yanked.

The steel cable dug into his sides, likely not shearing him clean in half because of the Beskar plate over his front and back.

The air was driven out of his lungs; he was uncoiled from the cable he’d twisted around himself and even though that absorbed the worst of the impact when his arm was pulled with such sheer ripping velocity he felt his entire arm arm scream, muscles tearing and bones snapping, Maul ground his teeth together, refusing to loosen his grip no matter what.

His target was in sight. 

He began to reel himself in. 

The astromech droid saw him first as Maul pulled close, feet clamping down on the wing. The droid, no doubt screeching and blaring in alarm, frantically informing Obi-Wan of everything, at least until Maul’s saber carved its cylinder head from its non-existent shoulders.

Knives of fire and thorns of acid across his entire arm and body; Maul let the pain fuel him, forcing his body to obey as his one broken, mangled arm tethered him to the ship, leg talons digging into the metal of the wing as he practically  crab walked towards the cockpit.

He caught sight of Obi-Wan just as the man was slipping on his emergency oxygen mask.

Maul’s smile was savage, gleeful.

Red lightsaber raised high, he plunged it down towards the Jedi that had taken everything from him.

The glass exploded. The singular fracture point, overstressed with heat and pressure, destroyed the protective layer of the Z-95 in an instant. Shards pinged off of Maul’s beskar, lost a split second later to the void.

But his blade didn’t find flesh.

Obi-Wan’s hand was held aloft, shaking, struggling to hold back the lightsaber blade mere inches from his collar bone, the other still fighting with the controls.

Maul snarled, pushing down even harder before Obi-Wan jerked the fighter sideways.

The sudden vertigo made the Sith lose his balance, clawed foot digging into the metal of the wing before it too gave way, ripped out with the forces putting it under stress.

His broken arm once more was his savior. The cable letting him fly off of the ship before it was yanked hard his entire limb howling with agony as broken bones shredded interior muscles and ripped through tendons. 

Obi-Wan bucked and whirled, twisting the starship in however many directions he could to shake Maul off, sending lances of pain through the Zabrak’s arm.

He wouldn’t lose. 

He wouldn’t lose to Kenobi ever again!

Maul thrust his saber down, carving a line through the engine block that exploded in plasma and fire. The ship lurched, its sudden, uneven momentum sending it into an uncontrolled spin.

Kenobi fought with the controls, and Maul took the moment’s reprieve to shut off his lightsaber, grabbing hold of the wire with his good arm before Obi-Wan managed to regain control, the damaged vessel practically hobbling towards the nearest available ship, one of the Venators. 

—

Obi-Wan:

‘No, Obi-Wan, he’s not dangerous at all. You beat him when you were a Padawan and now you’re a Jedi Master. You’re just overthinking things. It’ll be fine- THEN YOU COME FIGHT HIM, HEBERT!’

His memories must’ve clouded over time, because he missed the part where Maul demonstrated he was a complete fucking lunatic with a death wish during their previous encounter.

He could feel the man somewhere behind him, and stuck in this chair as he was, Obi-Wan knew he had to make it to another ship immediately. With the way he was acting, it was only a matter of time before Maul started hacking away and cut at Obi-Wan’s oxygen supply. 

It would kill them both in the ensuing explosion most likely, but somehow he doubted that would phase Maul right now.

Obi-Wan had no idea what the state of the fleet battle was. He trusted Anakin to handle it, he was by far the best fleet master in the order by this point. The only thing he was concerned with right now was reaching the nearest ship.

Only problem was, it wasn’t answering his hails. 

“Glory, please respond, this is General Kenobi, I’m approaching for an emergency landing with a heavily damaged vessel! I need an open hangar bay, hostiles on board! I repeat, hostiles on board!”

Had Maul damaged the comm system? 

If Obi-Wan had the luxury to stop, and view things clearly, he likely would have noticed the lack of combat in and around the Glory itself. No starfighters, no sorties of any kind, whereas all other ships were being swarmed and in the thick of the fighting.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have that luxury, not with a red, armored lunatic with a laser sword bearing down on him. 

As he drew close to one of the Glory’s sideward hangar bays, he could sense the encroaching danger right behind him. 

Maul was gonna try to make sure he didn’t survive the crash landing. 

The instant the crippled fighter was on its final approach vector, Maul lunged forward, saberstaff plunging downward.

But this time, Obi-Wan was ready.

His own lightsaber sprang to life this time, intercepting the red blade as Obi-Wan entrusted the final descent to the fighters onboard auto pilot.

Twice more Maul’s saber descended, and twice more Obi-Wan was able to deflect it, if only just.

Then, Maul yanked and pulled.

The fighter’s controls veered sharply to the side, the autopilot overridden, sending the fighter into a steep nosedive straight into the hull.

Obi-Wan snapped open the emergency release on his harness and jumped.

Holding his breath and shutting his eyes through the cold vacuum of space, the last ten meters between him and the hangar bay shield were the longest, most interminable of his life.

When the tingle ran along his skin and warm air hit his cheek he sucked down a breath, just in time for it to be driven out of him as he fell to the hangar floor hard. Something snapped along his insides, something bending the way it shouldn’t have. Obi-Wan tumbled across the floor, out of control and in tremendous pain everywhere, the starfighter exploding outside with a tremendous crash that he felt trembling through the floors.

And still, the Jedi Master forced himself to get to his feet again, unsure of where he was hurt, or where he wasn’t hurt as his blue blade snapped to life, head on a swivel, bleary, blurred vision already searching for Maul.

Someone else found him first.

“Blast hi-ARGH!”

The clone’s scream was swallowed up by chirps of blaster fire, and Obi-Wan turned around in time to see Maul diving into the mass of armored bodies, lightsaber blades a spining dervish tearing through ranks upon ranks of clones, rushing to escape the hangar.

Obi-Wan, again, gave chase.

—

Karla:

An explosion tore through the inside of the ship, sending fire and shrapnel through the inner halls. Lights flickered before shutting down, leaving them in the gloom of red emergency lumen strips.

The red cast long, dark shadows. The inside of the ship looked less like a Venator and more like a charnel house of corpses. Broken bodies, shattered armor and the stink of burning flesh was enough to make her stomach turn. 

Fire spread through the walls and floor, carried by spilling oil and chemical leaks. Sparks flashed through torn circuitry and clones just kept fighting a monster that wouldn’t die.

The remnants of the defense crew kept firing, kept fighting, sporadic resistance with blaster bolts, slug throwers or even just bare, bloodied knuckles at this point. The men had been mauled and though Grievous was damaged, chest torn open and one of his legs gone, the combat discipline had all but disintegrated as men scrambled to reform some semblance of order.

More reinforcements were en route, three minutes out. But those three minutes felt like a window of eternity. 

The cyborg skittered across the wall and ceiling, five limbs making him seem like one of Miss Taylor’s giant spiders as his claws tore out panels and ripped apart wiring, casting more of the Venator into dark. 

With a roar, Karla threw her hands out, the Force rippling from of her with a scream of frustration as she pulled.

With a great heave, she tore the whole ceiling down, a tremendous crash of steel and wires collapsing on top of Grievous. Men scrambled out of the way, covering their heads as they tried to escape the rain of debris.

She heard Grievous roar, a hollow, metal screech-

Then something flew out of the dust cloud.

Karla dove to the side, and it was the only thing that saved her as an iron stake of jagged, metal embedded itself in her shoulder.

The pain was blinding her whole body seizing up, adrenaline flooded her system, her heart pounding in her chest before she immediately shut everything down, just as her conscious mind recognized the fact that she almost died.

She prioritized, categorized. Bringing back her emotions one by one like an operator flicking on switches .

Survival instincts, pain response to keep the adrenaline- the fear she didn’t need, nor the palpable panic. Anger she could use. Indignation, hate. Those were useful but only just.

Calm. She heightened that one as much as possible, keeping her head, keeping her skills and objectivity.

Fear was the mind killer.

The pain was still there, but the chemical reactions in her brain, or the lack of them, lessened it. Her left arm now hung loosely at her side, dripping blood. Grievous rushed her, seizing the opening, darting and weaving between obstacles like a feral jumping spider. 

She pulled up, a slab of metal interposing itself between herself and the cyborg monster, and he had two options, tear through it or-

He leapt, and in that split second of being airborne, where neither claw nor talon had purchase, she pushed, flooding her system for the briefest of seconds with all the fear, pain and rage before she shut those down too.

Those were more dangerous than Grievous if used too much.

A force wave burst forward, the hallway expanding, warping, metal panels and corpses were shoved down the hall like they were caught in the world’s most terrifying leaf blower, swirling through the metal tube like length as though they were all motes of dust caught in a storm. Grievous tried to grab hold, but even what he tried to grab hold of she ripped out of its moorings, the Cyborg sent hurling down the hall to smash into the bulkhead, buried a split second later under a pile of debris and corpses, the heaving pile of meat, of clones that she knew- she shoved down her own horror, flicking it off as she continued to bear down on the pile- quite literally crushing the bodies onto him like an industrial press from all sides. 

And still she could feel him moving, ripping, tearing his way through, surviving clones formed a firing line behind her and to the sides, hastily taking up position because they also knew, the bastard wasn’t dead.

Grievous tore himself free , blood and viscera coating him like a soaked blade. His one remaining leg was still trapped and she focused more and more of her energy into keeping him pinned as long as she could, the bodies crushed and compressing ever more tightly on the limb.

“GRENADES!” One of the Clones recognized the opportunity, shouting out the order and a cluster of grenades were hurled onto the pile of their own dead.

It was all kinds, Ion, ECD, Plasma, Thermal, even a biotic grenade magnetized itself onto Grievous’ shoulder, inundating the droid General in a cascade of multi-colored explosions that ripped bodies apart and made the writhing cyborg stumble and stagger with the force of the bombs.

But by the end of it, he was still moving. 

And her grip was slipping.

Iskt came roaring in, his scales colored brown, hard as diamonds, he grappled with the off balance cyborg, physically trying to rip panels off of his body as he leapt onto Grievous’ back.

Grievous howled in fury, all four arms twisting around to claw and tear at Iskt.

But they found no purchase, Iskt was as indestructible as ever.

But then, Grievous fired off his jetpack.

Fire burned at Iskt’s front, Jedi robes lighting up like tallow, his diamond hard scales turning red.

But that left him exposed.

Grievous claws ripped into Iskt’s flesh, tearing chunks of meat out of the Trandoshan’s arm, chest and side, Iskt reeled, leaping off of the Cyborg with a wet spattering blood trail left in his wake.

And that’s when her grip slipped.

Grievous shot after him, jetpack howling as he grabbed her crechemate in a flying tackle, the two of them tumbling through the air as Iskt’s body switched back to its brown coloring with the impact.

They traded blows, unbreakable stone smashing into unyielding metal.

But Grievous was still orders of magnitude stronger.

He pinned Iskt’s wounded arm with one whole claw arm, the other two coming down to dig into the bleeding meat of the gash and pull.

For the first time in a very long time, Iskt screamed in pain.

Grievous’ eyes almost glowed like pinpricks, seeing the opportunity to rip the Padawan apart.

Karla’s heart thundered in her chest, a sudden different type of fear flooding her system.

She stepped forward, lighting her saber, ready to interfere with nothing but one arm and adrenaline.

But, it was the tattered remnants of the still living Clones, that would not have it.

Get him off the commander! The men of the 707th rushed forward with a cry of pure, desperate defiance, blasters firing, even vibro-blades being pulled. The blockade of men, physically throwing themselves onto the fight to rescue the Padawan. Grievous had lost his lightsabers he’d lost one leg but he was no less dangerous and the rampaging cyborg, tore them apart with bare claws.

Karla reached with the Force, yanking Iskt out from under him, dragging him across the length of the hall in a trail of blood.

She knelt down, her hands resting over Iskt’s brow as he caught his breath at her feet. 

Karla’s mind whirled with thoughts, plans, frantically calls were coming in that reinforcements were just a minute more out but she wasn’t sure they were going to last, even that long. 

There was a sudden explosion behind her, a wave of heat and fire that made her duck down, her body shielding Iskt instinctively, stupid as that was.

But then she felt something else.

Rage.

The feeling was so… clear she thought it was coming from her, before remembering that was impossible, sharpening her senses she followed it to its source.

Behind her.

She turned, and a ghoul of black and red marched around the hallway. Its eyes glowing a burning red and yellow.

“You” The wraith hissed, jagged teeth bared in a snarl.

She thought he was somehow talking to her but it was Grievous who answered.

 “My quarry comes to me.” The Cyborg laughed. “Today is a good day.”

The red and black ghost sprinted.

Iron legs pumped with all their might, a jetpack bursting to life at the man’s back to add to his speed as he sailed over Iskt and Karla’s heads.

Grievous own jetpack activated, meeting charge with charge.

At the last second the newcomer twisted in mid air, sailing past Grievous and it was only Karla’s force given reflexes that let her see the man pull a grenade from his belt and try to shove it in the hole of Grievous’ chest armor.

Grievous noticed the danger too, his eyes going wide and in pure desperate panic jerked aside, losing control of his flight  to crash into a far wall.

The newcomer flipped, talons digging into the steel flooring, thermal grenade still ‘cooking’ in his hand.

The instant he let it go, it would blow up. 

He stalked towards Grievous.

And the Cyborg… backed away, a wary look in his eyes. 

The Zabrak’s smile was savage- malicious. The hate rolled off of him like a palpable ooze. 

“Master Obi-Wan?”

Iskt’s pained whisper brought her eyes down to him before looking back behind her, pulling her eyes away from the fight- and yes, Master Obi-Wan was right behind them, he was favoring one leg, hurt. But it was him, and the relief she felt flooding her body like a whitewash would have brought her to tears if she didn’t stamp it down.

Obi-Wan took in the scene infront of him, and without hesitation he placed himself between the two Padawans and the two monsters.

The Zabrak’s snarl almost reverberated through the room, burning yellow eyes darting between Grievous and the Jedi Master.

Then he threw the thermal grenade.

It exploded in a fireball, the concussive blast making them shield their eyes as Master Obi-Wan threw himself over the both of them.

She heard the clack-clicks  of Grievous’ claws on metal, skittering towards them-

Master Obi-Wan’s Force push was precise, immediate, shoving the anchored Cyborg back, ripping him and the metal plates off and sending him sailing back

“Helmsman!” Obi-Wan called into his communicator, a communicator, that, judging by the silence in her auditory canal, wasn’t hooked up to anything at all. “We’ve finished evacuations. Jump to Hyperspace. It looks like we’ve captured General Grievous.”

The droid General hesitated, and just then the pounding march of hundreds of boots rushing towards them through various hallways reached their ears and The monster turned and ran- making good on his escape before he really was captured.

Obi-Wan hesitated, warring with indecision as he stayed by her and Iskt’s side. 

“Master?” She asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head, shutting off his lightsaber. “I’ll stay here, just incase Grievous doubles back. Karla, I need an uplink to the bridge- Maul must be going for a ship-”

(X)(X)(X)

Soooo... the battle is a bit longer than I originally thought xD

Maul was fun to write; that careful balance of savage, unbound rage and animal cunning.But next chap brings it to an end where we'll be focusing on events groundside and how everything resolves and will likely cover an important bit of the aftermath as well.

I'll catch you all next week :)