momslilassassin: ([neg] owowowow)
As the Rude Awakening sped onward, the fire-rimmed orbs ahead rapidly began to swell and drift apart, leaving the area between them webbed with blazing whorls of accretion gas. Against this brilliant backdrop, Ship also began to swell, growing from a propulsion halo the size of a dust mote to a dark sphere as large as Jaina’s thumb.

A constant stream of fire streaked back and forth between the two vessels, cannon bolts from the Awakening and plasma bulbs from Ship. Both vessels were taking the attacks dead center in the forward shields, making no attempt to evade. With the grasping hand of a black hole reaching from both sides of an ever-narrowing safe corridor, there was no room to maneuver or flee. Flying skill and combat training did not matter: pilots had one choice and one choice only: punch it out head-on.

And in that kind of fight, it was usually the pilot who attacked quickest and hardest who survived. Jaina checked the range and, seeing that the two vessels were closing in even faster than she thought, armed the Rude Awakening’s first missile. Jaina had chosen the Rude Awakening for good reason: it was a Void Jumper assault pinnace. That meant it could get in fast, evade detection, take a beating, and deliver a devastating attack. It was one of the most fearsome tactical combat vessels in the galaxy, designed to go head-to-head with a Mandalorian Bes’uliik and be the craft that emerged from the fireball. Jaina could not imagine any better combat transport to fly head-on against Ship—especially not after she had fitted the entire missile magazine with baradium warheads.

Talk about a rude awakening. Heh.

The targeting computer chimed once, announcing that the two crafts had closed to effective missile range. Jaina did not bother to try for a target-lock—Ship would defeat it anyway, and in this fight a quick attack was everything. She simply launched, then pulled the throttles back so the Awakening would not be inside the lethal radius when the baradium detonated. The blazing white disk of a thrust ring appeared in front of the cockpit then, as the missile streaked away, quickly shrank to a white dot. In the next instant a tiny gray dot appeared in front of the Awakening.

In an eyeblink, it expanded into the gray, oblong lump of one of Ship’s Force-hurled stones. Fighting the urge to dodge—a mistake that might well have carried them across a nearby event horizon—Jaina held the pinnace steady and thumbed the intercom pad on her control yoke.

“Brace for impact back there,” she said. “This one is going to take down our shields.”

This seems like an excellent time to go on a vision quest, doesn't it, Luke? )

Meanwhile, on Coruscant-- )

And on Abeloth's home planet, Ben gets a mouthful of tentacle. Seriously. It's nasty. )

Hooray, we won! What do we do with Vestara? )

[OOC: Troy Denning, THERE IS SO MUCH WRONG WITH YOU. Warnings for torture, violence, and death. Played out with amazing [ profile] hoorayimrich, [ profile] life_inshadow, and [ profile] endsthegame. Done with the spamming for today!]
momslilassassin: ([neg] why me?)
Ben awoke. He felt the familiar softness of Ship's gel-cushion floor beneath his aching body, and his temples pounding with the aftereffects of anesthetic gas…the same gas that filled the passenger cabin every time he tried to free himself.

As was his practice (and an Enderlike voice in his head wondered dryly why he'd been knocked out enough to have a standard set of procedures for this), he lay motionless, waiting for the fog to clear, trying to take stock of his circumstances. His hands remained behind him, secured by the same pair of stun cuffs that he had been trying to open when the gas had last come hissing from circulation vents. Judging by the numb ache in his shoulders, his arms had been folded under his back without moving for quite some time, and his tongue felt swollen with thirst. Clearly, this time he had been unconscious longer than a normal sleep cycle—for at least twenty-four hours, maybe even forty-eight.

The muffled rumble of a battle was reverberating up through the floor beneath Ship, and occasionally the entire hull would shudder with the force of an explosion that was either very close or very powerful. If Ben listened carefully, he could even hear the distant screech of blasters—though the sound was so faint it might have been nothing more than wishful thinking.

Don’t make me use the gas again. The words came to Ben inside his mind, as dark and full of menace as always. You need to see what is about to happen.

A section of hull grew transparent, and Ben saw that Ship was sitting in the formal reception hall just off Pinnacle Platform. Designed to impress, the hall was an immense, cavernous chamber with alabaster walls and a white stone floor. With a sweeping view across Fellowship Plaza, it had once been used by the Jedi Council to receive the Temple’s most distinguished visitors. Today it was filled with blast rubble, gray fumes, and a small band of weary-looking Sith.

Abeloth was there, too, standing in the wreckage of the hall’s grand entry, facing out toward the landing deck between a pair of laser cannon emplacements. At the ends of her upraised arms, her tentacles writhed in the air as though she were using them to stir the smoke that was swirling over Fellowship Plaza. Even with her back to him, Ben could see that she was looking toward the distant cylinder of the Galactic Justice Center, shooting blastboats out of the sky in a way calculated to cause the most fear and pain to the marines inside the carriers before they died. Ben closed his eyes against the pain in the Force and prayed he wouldn't recognize any of the Force-signatures as they flashed out of existence.

Abeloth was feeding on the dark side energy of their fear. Ben had seen her do it on Pydyr, when the entire population of the moon believed they were dying from a fake plague, and now she was doing it on Coruscant--but with trillions of inhabitants on Coruscant, Abeloth’s harvest would be limitless. Ben could not help wondering if this had been her plan all along—to set Jedi and Sith against each other, then feast on the fallout.

You Jedi are such small thinkers, Ship said, interrupting his thoughts. Abeloth wants so much more, Ben…especially for you.

Wasn't that reassuring, Ben? )

[OOC: Taken from Troy Denning's Apocalypse. Warning for mild violence and creeptasticness.]
momslilassassin: ([neu] use the Force)
Ben stood watching an old Bothan limp back and forth across the grimy floor of the undercity industrial hangar. The Bothan was addressing three brigades of elite space marines--a few faces among them ones that Petra had been looking for, not that Ben coud pick them out among the thousands--explaining why he had asked them to volunteer for a mission to overthrow the Galactic Alliance’s current Chief of State, Roki Kem. Their shoulder patches represented units from a hundred different vessels stationed near Coruscant, and they all had at least two things in common: they had all served aboard a ship personally commanded by Admiral Nek Bwua’tu, and when he had commed to ask them to help him save the Galactic Alliance, they had all answered with an unwavering yes.

“… the enemy has retreated into the Jedi Temple with seventy-five percent of its forces.” The admiral’s words seemed to reverberate from every corner of the hangar as a small mike in his tunic collar relayed his voice to a network of speakers spaced throughout the formation. “This withdrawal is certainly a trap, designed to lure our Jedi friends into an ambush against a superior Sith force …”

Luke turned to another Bothan standing at his side, Admiral Bwua’tu’s dapper uncle, Eramuth. “To tell the truth, Counselor, I’m not sure why you waited for the Jedi to return,” he said quietly. “Club Bwua’tu seems to have the war well in hand without us.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out by now, Master Skywalker,” Eramuth replied, maintaining a straight face. “We needed the cannon fodder.”

“Cannon fodder?” Luke echoed, almost taking the old Bothan seriously. “You couldn’t have hired Mandalorians?”

The Bothan shook his gray-furred head. “Of course,” he said. “But they didn’t manage very well the last time they tried to storm the Temple.”

“I see,” Luke said. “It’s nice to know you have more faith in the Jedi Order.”

“There’s that.” A crooked smile snaked along Eramuth’s muzzle, then he added, “And you do work for free.”

Luke activated the mike on his own collar and stepped to the admiral’s side. “First, I want to thank you all for volunteering for this mission. As Admiral Bwua’tu has explained, it’s not just the Jedi Temple we are liberating. The Lost Tribe of the Sith has infiltrated every level of the Galactic Alliance government, and our victory today will prevent them from achieving their goal of dominion over the entire galaxy. Your objective is to draw the Sith forces to the Temple’s outer shell. Once you have succeeded, I will be able to deactivate the Temple shields and open the blast doors from a central location. When that occurs, Admiral Bwua’tu expects the Sith to stand their ground and continue fighting. Assuming he’s correct, the Jedi will launch a series of attacks from the Temple interior, driving the enemy out onto the Temple exterior, where they will be exposed to fire from your assault carriers’ heavy weapons.”

Sensing a tide of uncertainty rising inside the minds of the veteran soldiers, Luke opened his palm and motioned for patience, acknowledging their questions before the first one could be asked. “If they don’t do as the admiral anticipates—”

Ben watched as a hand was raised among the crowd. Luke turned to him. “Yes?”

“How certain are you that you’ll be able to bring the shields down and open those blast doors?” a familiar voice that Ben couldn't quite place asked.

“Not as certain as I’d like to be,” Luke admitted. “But if the first attempt fails, we’ll keep trying.”

“Until?” The voice didn't sound especially pleased by this plan.

Luke grew somber. “Until we can’t anymore,” he said. “And if that happens, there’ll be a baradium strike.”

“After I call off the Temple assault, of course,” Bwua’tu clarified. “If I order a withdrawal, waste no time before obeying. We won’t be giving the enemy time to escape, so the missiles will be on the way as I speak.” The hangar reverberated with the crump of thousands of boot heels cracking together, and Bwua’tu nodded in satisfaction.

“Good.” The admiral turned to Luke, then said, “I think we’re ready to assign the liaisons.”

Luke began assigning Jedi Knights to the various batallions, skipping over Bazel Warv. Ben noticed immediately how Bazel's ears slumped in disappointment, and he moved closer to see what was going on, not realizing that Vestara was following him as well.

“Did I do something wrong, Master Skywalker?” Bazel asked in his gravelly voice. “I just want to—”

“You did nothing wrong.” Luke reached up and placed a hand on one of Bazel’s huge biceps. “But I’ve received a message from the Solos. They’re on their way here to see you. They need you to do something for Amelia."

“It must have something to do with the secret.”

Ben's heart rose into his throat. “Amelia’s secret?” he saw his father ask. “How did you find—”

“The other secret, Master Skywalker!” Bazel interrupted, shaking his big head from side to side. “Not her name!”

Luke looked as stunned as Ben felt. Bazel’s voice grew soft and he stared past Ben, straight at Vestara. “Master Skywalker, I can’t tell you right now.”

Ben watched the appraising look on Vestara's face and realized she'd heard everything. He was going to have to watch her very carefully. If she took the information of who Amelia--Allana--was back to the Sith who seemed downright obsessed with the idea of a prophesized Jedi Queen...

No. Ben'd had far too many relatives die young. If it came down to a choice between Allana and Vestara, there was no choice at all.

But first a call from Ender! )

It's a Troy Denning book. Cue the battle sequence! Warning for gross injuries of people you know. )
momslilassassin: ([neu] eye closeup)
“So," Ben said, looking down on Upekzar, "this is a lot nicer than Ziost. Ship's taste in locales is improving."

“Or Abeloth’s,” Vestara said. When Natua had described the ruins of a temple that had closely matched Ben’s description of where he had first found Ship, they had all felt hope that they might actually find that elusive and dangerous vessel, and with it, Abeloth. She wouldn't be challenged just by Luke, Ben, Vestara, or the Lost Tribe, who’d had their own agenda, and one that ended up not really being all that interested in the destruction of Abeloth. Now she would be opposed by nearly every Jedi in the galaxy. And in with those kinds of numbers, even an ancient and powerful a being like Abeloth could not stand.

...Ben hoped. If it didn't work, a lot of people they would need later would die pointlessly now instead.

Natua’s long hours spent in the Temple library studying Sith worlds and their histories had made her the resident expert, and Luke had insisted that she be the one to brief her fellow Jedi. Vestara might know more about the Sith mind-set, but Natua had turned her fierce determination toward learning everything she could about their ancient habitations. Ben listened with half an ear as Natua filled in the rest of the fleet on the Dream Singers, the lava caves, and the subterranean hangar that had once contained Sith training vessel: he'd heard all of this before in the library.

Well *this* planet sucks. )

[OOC: Warnings for NPC death, Ben being kicked around like a puppy, and massive stupidity. Adapted, mangled and folded into origami cranes from Christie Golden's Ascension.]
momslilassassin: ([neg] owowowow)
Ben didn't have classes on Wednesdays, so he normally went out on a nice long run before climbing the Rocky Bits (yes, for fun, and yes, without safety equipment), so it wasn't entirely unheard of for him to come home with a few scratches on his arms or legs.

Today, though, he was limping heavily and cursing under his breath about big sharp teeth and stupid kriffing bunnies.

He was a Skywalker. Of course something had tried to eat him.
momslilassassin: ([neg] cheer up emo kid)
Ben was back at the window, staring out at the ocean and trying to find some calm. He and Ender had called Karla over, and while Ben trusted her absolutely when it came to healing (he wouldn't have had her help with Ender otherwise) and he wasn't afraid of pain, he kind of...worried about her reaction when she saw exactly what the Sith Lord had inflicted on him.

Thus the truncated meditation exercise. Not because he was nervous. At all. Really.

Ben was an expert liar, after all, and had been an expert at lying to himself for years.

[OOC: For the boy and the girl! Warnings for talk of being tortured Troy Denning-ed.]
momslilassassin: ([neu] looking up)
They gathered in the Hidden One's throne chamber, four dozen Kel Dors and three humans. As the last of the Kel Dors, servants who operated the foundries, arrived, conversation dropped off and all the Kel Dors turned toward the Hidden One on his throne.

He gestured to the Skywalkers and Ender, motioning them to approach with a benevolent smile. "It's with a whole heart that I greet you. I understand that you have determined to choose new names, the better to make your way among us."

Ben barely restrained a snort. Despite his astral suggestions of names (his father was definitely a Grand Master Whango Mittphool in his heart), that was not really why the three humans were here.

"I'm sorry, great one," Luke replied, looking surprised. "There has been some misunderstanding. I did ask for a naming ceremony, but I didn't mean it would we will be renaming ourselves. It's my hope that we will be renaming some--or all--of you."

Exclamations of surprise and disapproval filled the room. Ben kept his face impassive but he was grinning on the inside. Much as he liked causing trouble, it was just as much fun watching his father do it. And the Hidden One had been asking for this.

"You have wasted my time," the Hidden One said darkly.

Luke shrugged. "What do the dead have except time? And admit it, as annoying as you find my words, this is going to be the most interesting event you're going to experience all day."

"Why are you doing this?" the Hidden One asked.

Luke turned serious. "Because you're wrong. And if you were only wronging yourself, that would not be so bad. But you are wronging every one of them as well." He gestured at the assembled Kel Dors. "You are a group who study and utilize the Force, yes?"

The Kel Dors looked between Luke and the Hidden One. "Yes," one replied.

"And the Force is the energy of life."

Another Kel Dor said, "Yes."

Luke gave the Hidden One an admonishing look. "Life is risk. Life is energy, vitality. But you've rejected those things, and in rejecting them, reject the Force. In rejecting the Force, you deprive yourself of the right to teach its ways to the living. You have brought nothing to these caverns but your own bodies, and even then you don't have the decency to start moldering like ordinary corpses."

Ben hoped that his father knew what he was doing as the Kel Dors began muttering angrily to themselves.

With a start like that, clearly things can only get worse. )
momslilassassin: (Ben: sad panda)
Ben normally had a fairly accurate internal clock, but he had absolutely no idea what time it was by the time he finally made his way to the dorms. He'd carefully shut himself down in the Force--he wasn't ready to face either Jaina or Tahiri yet--and made his way slowly up the stairs to his room.

In his head, the litany of the names of the dead and wounded repeated over and over and over again. Zekk, missing. Jaina, in the clinic for the foreseeable future if she wanted to walk again. And the dead: Shevu. Prince Isolder. Most of the Hapan court, including little Allana. Jacen.

Ben hadn't cried. He didn't see the reason to.

He walked past Ender's room and paused. Might as well let him know that he wouldn't be inheriting droids...

He rapped quietly at the door, intending to stay for only a second. He didn't want to wake anyone up.

[OOC: for the other emo boy...and contents are going NFB.]
momslilassassin: (Ben: lost little boy)
[OOC: Cut for violence and extreme ickiness. NO THANKS AT ALL to Troy "What Do You Mean 'This is Gross?' Denning and his book Invincible from whom this concept was stolen. Much love to [ profile] wtfcanonmewtf for the preplay. OOC is love.]

Ben was glad he could remember a time when his cell had been dark.  )
momslilassassin: (Ben: zomg!)
As Ben was nudged by thousands of tourists and loitering office workers, a seething mass of life so vast that even the GAG couldn’t identify everyone inside the area, he realized exactly when it was that Shevu preferred meeting informants in Monument Plaza.

He paused in front of one of Shevu’s favorite statues—a huge gray monolith depicting a droid mechanic—and sat on the viewing bench.  )

[OOC: Dialogue from Troy "If They Ain't Bleedin', It Ain't Drama" Denning and his book o' evil Invincible. NFB, NFI, OOC is loooooove.]
momslilassassin: (Ben: lost little boy)
Ben was beginning to go a little stir crazy, not being able to exercise like he was used to. After overexerting himself in gym class, his body was refusing to let him do much more today than get out of bed.

He sat on his floor (crosslegged, just to spite his joints) and worked on the next droid for his tiny army.

The door was open.

[OOC: Expecting one, but open!]
momslilassassin: (Ben: *emos*)
Ben's shuttle back to Fandom had barely given him enough time to drop his stuff off before he had to get to Master Atreides' class.

And if a class that was going to be devoted to torture and madness of leaders was going to cause him any kind of problem, well, he wasn't thinking about it.

He lowered himself carefully onto the bed--all of the walking he'd done today was hurting his joints--closed his eyes and began to work on a healing meditation his father had taught him.

The door was cracked open.

[OOC: Ben's back, yay!]


momslilassassin: (Default)
Ben Skywalker

September 2017

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