It was hot and miserable, even hiding in the underside of one of the station platforms. He hated desert worlds. The sand got in everything and made his coat of fur itch terribly. And the noise. Gods, but the trains were loud, coming through at regular intervals. He'd been observing for a while; whatever the Collective was shipping back and forth must have been easy to load.
Every four hundred and eighty seconds; eight minutes between each arrival. Quick, ain't they.
The Arconan's mission was simple. Get in, muck with the tram's systems, and try to cause havoc. Whether that meant derailing trains or causing some 'accidents,' he didn't care. Anything to slow down their efforts to resupply the troops and ships attacking his Clan. Maybe then they could redirect their efforts back to the actual threat of the speciesist that was killing off aliens he didn't 'like' enough.
Kordath reached out with his mind and tried to get a handle on the situation. The immediate area was patrolled by a handful of living guards, though he'd spotted an almost equal number of combat-capable droids in their company. All in all, it spelled a losing situation for the Arcanist; none of this was to his advantage. He needed a distraction of some kind, something to draw them away from the path to the control hub. Not that he was entirely confident where that was either. The intel on the Collective was still sparse.
As he immersed himself in the flow of the patrolling troops, he tried to determine their patterns, though something else was tickling at the edge of his awareness; another presence was closing in. Whoever it was, they could use the Force and seemed unstable. Not a fool, though, decided Kordath as they halted not far from the station.
Scoutin'? Somebody else from one of tha Clans lookin' ta put tha hurt on? Could be handy.
Kordath focused back on the guards. Their movements seemed to take them back into the main building, where they paused for a minute or so. Likely a checkpoint, maybe even the control hub. He considered the other Force user who had begun creeping slowly up from the surface below the tram station. They weren't being very subtle, but he gave them points for trying. Twisting uncomfortably in the supports, Kordath attempted to find the being visually.
It wasn't difficult. Pale skin, white hair, black markings all over the man's face. And he was large, easily a foot and a half taller than the Ryn. The muscle packed on him suggested a strength that Bleu could never hope to achieve.
A proper bloody fighter, eh? This could be very handy, indeed, he thought to himself as the man topped the steps to the lower platform. He watched as the figure crouched behind some crates and surveyed the area. It had taken Kordath at least an hour and the application of his grappling hook to sneak across the few dozen meters to reach his current vantage point. He still wasn't sure what was on the upper platform above him, but he could feel more guards.
The warrior surveying the area below didn't look as if the quiet approach was his strong suit. Kord cracked a grin as his senses receded and took a few deep breaths. The crates the Force Sensitive was behind were on the edge of the platform, the building the guards stopped in near the center. If he could pull this off, he would make it inside with little interference. He hoped. As it was the troops looked like more than he could handle.
His plan wouldn't work on the droids patrolling with their masters, but the soldiers below would surely notice it. Drawing deeply on the Force, Kordath pushed out and began crafting his signal. A loud ding, much like a timer going off, rang out from the end of the platform. One of the guards turned to look, and Bleu could see him signaling to his fellows. When he turned towards the crate, he could see a bright arrow hanging in the air above the man's cover, pointing down. Kordath chuckled, even as he grit his teeth as he maintained the illusion.
Blasters were leveled at the crates, alongside several soldiers with riot and stun batons.
"Come out, we...we know you’re back there!"
Kordath felt a chill run up his spine as the Force user hiding out responded by laughing. It wasn't that it was amusing to the warrior; it was the edge of madness it was tainted with that bothered him. A scarlet saber blade snapped to life, and the man jumped atop one of the crates, a vicious grin on his face.
"Jedi! Submit or die!"
"I am no Jedi," the man spoke with a laugh.
The troopers began to spread out in a semi-circle, their droids advancing carefully towards the warrior. Atop his crate, Solas Night-Thorn took a shuddering breath and lifted his left hand, palm out towards the soldiers. Taking this as a sign of aggression, they opened fire and watched as blaster bolts splashed against the Sith's barrier. The Tarenti smirked as he whipped his right arm around, his saber flashing from his hand like a spear and impaling one of the Technocrat troopers. The hilt was recalled with a gesture, and the Sith laughed again.
Across the platform, he saw a cloaked figured drop from above on a rope and start heading for the building. Solas's grin widened. No wonder his cover had been blown. The voices in his broken mind sounded excited about a bit of sport.
Kordath shivered, the Force alerting him to danger and causing him to look over his shoulder. He locked eyes, gray and yellow meeting.
Bugger this, thought the Arconan as he drew a flash grenade from his belt and chucked it back towards the Sith and the soldiers.
