Part Two of 'Battlefront'...

Ladies and Gentlemen, here's the second part of my story.
I'll continue with the rest tomorrow night.

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SECONDARY PROLOGUE


The old one was still running, his triplicate heart beating furiously to supply power to a body so ancient that if it weren't for his skill in the Force, he would have collapsed in an instant. Through a cloying miasma of forest vines, sulfuric bogs, clotted streams and biting insects, he continuously reached out to find the appropriate path away from the danger that was pursuing him.

He had been hard at it for several hours now, ever since his one-man explorational cruiser had been shot down over the moon that was now his prison. The twin suns had passed their noonday zenith; the already-oppressive humidity spiked to its maximum and made breathing a living nightmare, not to mention that his robes were laden with perspiration which made running difficult. He tried to push the sensations away as he focused his attention elsewhere, namely recalling the reason why he had come to this hellish world.

Even though the old man was a Jedi Knight, one of that esteemed and noble breed strong in the ways of the Force who were the vanguards of the Republic, he was also by profession a planetologist, albeit a noted one as well. His sole mission in life was to uncover as much as he could about the evolution of various worlds, and particularly those that lay outside the Republic's purview. Almost upon the very moment he attained full Knighthood, he purchased a small craft in battered condition, restored it and took to the stars in pursuit of his childhood dream-- to explore Wild Space and the Unknown Regions, making his name in the cause of bringing new knowledge of hidden worlds to a desiring population back home.


As fortune would have it, he had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. In more than a century-and-a-half, he had made his name over numerous times, bringing tales and proof of planets so distant and mysterious as to be previously only speculated about, of creatures and flora that defied all natural description of what life should be, and yet had survived and thrived. Much to his occasional chagrin, his celebratory status had spread far beyond the holographed page and lecture halls; on more than one happenstance, he had been invited into the garish residences of the Republic's aristocracy at the parties and receptions those peoples always seemed to have, giving his insights to the many politicians and captains-of-industry who were interested in exploiting these worlds' vast natural resources. On the other coin, he did see the bright side to these interruptions as well, as several of these influential people became sponsors of later forays and he could count on their further assistance if he ever got into a bind.

Two weeks before his current unfortunate debacle, the old Jedi was in the process of beginning a concentrated search for midi-chlorian percentiles in the sector where this world had been located. Upon his initial arrival from hyperspace, he was startled to discover when upon using the Force to sense out lifeform variables, there was an extraordinary dearth of midi-chlorian interaction on as well as between the native worlds, each of which had forms of life no greater than base-level primates. Yet, when he followed up these cursory glances with directed-probe searches, many of the habitable worlds revealed ruins that were indicative of previous life on a significant technological plane, such as the former Jedi stronghold of Ossus. Undaunted, the old one took his ship in towards the one world with the greatest level of ancient development, a forest moon in a binary system whose orbit lay well inside the stars' temperate zone.

On the instant he entered orbit, however, The Problem came on with blinding speed.

His ship's sensors barely had enough time to register another vessel in collision range as twin packets of coherent plasma streaked from out of nowhere and slammed into the explorer's hyperdrive generator. The impact corrupted the delicate matter/antimatter mix so extensively that the Jedi was forced to eject in his ship's salon pod mere seconds before the remains of the generator collapsed, resulting in a monumental explosion. He screamed in indignation as he watched his former home vaporize, scores and countless scores of valuable and irreplaceable research devoured in the fireball that followed the blast. Once originally never the sort to begrudge anything or anyone, the old one swore vehemently to every deity in his descendant race's religions that whomever did this would live to regret it.

If only he could have seen ahead in the few hours that were left to him, he would have gladly held his peace.

Following the rough landing, he managed to struggle out of the salon pod and take a quick mental bearing of his surroundings. In support of the probe reports, this moon was a rugged world, and the particular area where the salon pod crash-landed was covered by a thick, deciduous forest comprised mostly of pelifer trees so compacted that the forest floor was relatively clear of animal life and other foliage. The one striking aspect was that, even in the pre-dawn darkness, the air was so thick with moisture that it was bound to become uncomfortably humid as the day wore on. After he sent out a thought-pulse that he desperately wished would reach the mind of any other fellow Jedi in nearby space, the old one gathered his survival gear and whatever equipment he could salvage to begin what research he could on this world; despite his predicament, he was still a scientist and he would faster be damned before passing up the opportunity to study something new.

About an hour into his trek, the old Jedi began to detect subtle ebbings in the natural flow of the Force which was produced by the lifeforms on this particular moon. Initially, the ebbings were so slight that it barely disturbed him. But within time the twinges became more distinct, and it wasn't before long that the old Jedi perceived the unmistakable edge that danger was lurking not too far behind him. He continued registering his finds as he brought his senses up a few stages on the alert level, allowing whatever was out there to get a little closer before giving it a good whack with the Force to let it know firsthand that this old son wasn't quite so helpless.

That moment came several seconds later when he felt the strongest tug yet against his mind. It was a powerful, vise-like grip that seized the old Jedi's brain so suddenly and with such violence it caused him to stumble to his knees, gasping. He clenched his head as he fought to regain clarity; he was not going down like this, not without a fight. When most of his focus returned moments later, he chanced opening his eyes. What he discovered standing before him put such a shock into him that the old one feared he would lose what sanity he had left inside him.

Standing less than ten meters away was a mysterious figure, much younger than the old Jedi with a powerful build that was easily discernible beneath the deep obsidian cloak it wore about the shoulders. However, the most startling aspect about the creature was its face, which was fully exposed when the creature removed the deep cowl from its head. The skin was a painted mask of livid tangerine that was touched off by a set of cold platinum-steel eyes that seemed to glow of their own volition. As it slowly approached the Jedi, it didn't take much to discern from its expression that this creature considered his elderly counterpart as something much less than prey but as an insignificant nuisance that needed to be blotted out of existence. It also didn't take much figuring out that this apparition was one of the enigmatic Dark Lords of the Sith, the ancient enemies of the Jedi Order whose influence in the galaxy was believed to have been eradicated nearly a millenium before.

A deep, malevolent grin escaped the Sith Lord as he slowly parted his cloak to reveal a brilliant gray fighting outfit whose close fit and flared cuffs accentuated his Machiavellian appearance. A bright chrome dramsaber, the dual-ended lightsaber that was the traditional weapon of the Sith Order, hung from his waist. With a calm steadiness, the younger Force-wielder removed the dramsaber and ignited it, both ends extruding with deep vermilion blades of light. Overcoming his astonishment through brute force of will, the old one came slowly to his feet. With deftness-of-hand he brought forth his own lightsaber, igniting it just as the Sith Lord swung his weapon in a wide arc that the old Jedi met with his own lavender blade; it surprised him that it took almost every bit of strength he had inside him just to counter the blow.

His opponent was aware of it as well as the younger man started slashing in a series of precise, powerful strokes designed to subdue the old Jedi as quickly as possible. However, the elder man's long experience and skill with his own weapon proved him more than an equal to the Sith's raw strength, if though just barely. The thrill of the battled energized the old man as he allowed the Force to guide him, directing his focus completely upon his adversary.

The Sith's brow furrowed in anger as he continued pressing the attack. For one nearly as ancient as these damnable ruins, the old bastard was putting up one hell of a struggle. This also impressed him; the chi'ruu was not going to take his end lying down. Reaching out so subtly with his own command of the Force so that his opponent wouldn't be able to detect his maneuver, the Sith sought a suitable object by which to strike him…

The old one jerked as the fist-sized stone that streaked from the forest floor struck his temple with such savagery that he momentarily lost consciousness. He felt his footing give way as his body propelled itself toward the ground.

He regained his senses at the last second just before the Sith Lord's blade followed down to finish him off. Using the Power of the Force, the old one hurled himself away from the blade upon the instant it struck the bare ground where he would have been, allowing it to cast him up into a pelifer branch twelve meters above. He collapsed against the tree once he secured his footing; it had been decades since he had exerted himself with such intensity, and the effort was punishing. He reflexively touched the side of his head where he had been struck, drawing away blood as that entire side of his head seared with pain. It was only then that he realized he no longer had his lightsaber.

The Sith Lord looked up at him as he deactivated his dramsaber. In his opposite hand was the Jedi's lightsaber, which he proffered to the old man with an expression of mock pity. In the space of a single heartbeat the look turned to cold stone as the Sith brought up his free arm in a full summation of his own Force powers.

The old Jedi planetologist held on to the pelifer tree for dear life as a vicious gale tore around him, forcing him to shield his eyes as bits of flotsam from the forest floor peppered his face. Once more invoking his own ability in the Force, the old man leapt from his perch, somersaulted over the Sith Lord and reclaimed his lightsaber in nearly less time than it took for a living being to have a thought. Not giving himself time to relax, the old Jedi employed the Push of the Force to hurl his startled opponent away from him as far as he could. Realizing that seconds spared from sparring were moments added to his life, the Jedi charged into the deeper recesses of the forest.

Five hours later, the exhaustion that drove through his innards threatened to burst them as his arms and legs throbbed with the exertion, and it was proving beyond measure to breath the now-scorching, moisture-laden air. The one asset was that the agony throughout his body continued to maintain his desperate focus, but his extended exposure to this steambath-of-a-moon was starting to cloud over his better judgment. His resistance finally piqued as he crashed through a stinking, low-water bog, managing to trip over a partially-exposed root in the process. Completely spent, he slogged into the muck.

Several seconds later, his heat-addled mind barely registered the scream that came from above him.

The Sith Lord bellowed a war-cry as he streamed down from on high, his features alight with brilliant rage as he swung down with his re-ignited dramsaber.

With a desperate surge of Force-induced adrenaline, the old Jedi leapt from the bog and lit his own lightsaber in a flowing gesture that terminated as his blade rasped against one of the Sith Lord's own as he landed before him adjacent to the steaming bog. This sparked off another furious sortie as each man parried and thrusted with almost demoniacal fury, pushing each other deeper into the darkness created by the over-arcing foliage, the thunder of their clashing blades resonating throughout the forest.

Moments later the pair crashed into an opening, the intensity of their battle frightened many of the smaller lifeforms into scurrying for safe haven. The old Jedi, truly taxed beyond the limits of his endurance, was now faltering as the Sith graciously plowed at him, forcing the old one to give everything he had left inside him to avoid the bite of his opponent's blades. His focus, or what was left of it, was almost totally gone, and the stress of trying to keep this madman from overpowering him were taking its toll. What was even worse was that the Sith son-of-a-bitch also knew it as well, acknowledging his adversary with a deliciously cool smile.

Taking advantage of the old man's wavering abilities, the young Sith Lord performed a rapid, reverse-spin kick that caught the old Jedi high in the chest, sending him off his feet and into another pelifer tree more than ten meters away. The old man screamed as his back broke under the impact. Hoisting his dramsaber as if it were a javelin, the eternal enemy of the Jedi Order hurled his weapon at the old man, where it buried itself to the hilt through the Jedi's solar plexus. Another, more potent scream issued from the old one as a gout of blood followed behind it. As Ganji Alla Apso felt himself merge with the Great Light that was the Bright Side of the Force, his final thought before leaving this plane of existence forever was something not even his attacker would fathom, not even in a million lifetimes-- everything would be made right in the universe very, very soon.

The triumphant Sith Apprentice crossed the short distance to the fallen Jedi as a resplendently smug expression creased his lips. Despite his great age, the old Jedi had held his ground extraordinarily well. His noble order would have been proud of him, and they would have doubtlessly rewarded him if time hadn't proved the better victor. Without as much as a forethought, he drew the dramsaber from the Jedi's torso as he recovered Apso's own saber, giving the weapon a cursory glance. It was of good make and sturdy construction, most worthy of the one who had wielded it. He now had proof to show that he had bested his first Jedi Knight in combat, something that would make his master proud enough to award him the title of Sith Lord as well as his clan name, the one name that would forever link him to the glorious allegiance of the Sith.

He would be called… Darth Sidious.