His blade flashing crimson against the dark of the pre-dawn Quo was a frenetic blur as he covered ground. Cresting a rise made by debris from a fallen building he was immediately targeted by the Odetta faction soldiers who had used the mound of masonry as cover from the opposition forces. Laser bolts arrowed towards the Zabrak’s position, his blade performing a cyclic tattoo against the gloom as he met each one, deflecting them away from his body, a couple rebounded towards their origin, the explosions marking their termination. Quo’s wheeling dance down the obverse side of the redoubt left soldier after soldier either dead or injured, slain by the ferocity of the Sith and his attack.
A burst of lightning erupted from his finger tips sweeping across the area behind the fortification, following the sweep of his arm. Defenders fell by the swathe with the young Zabrak’s attack, unable to believe what they were witnessing, the disbelief turning to involuntary inaction determining the fate of many an inexperienced soldier. Quo used this to his advantage, leaping into the middle of their number, slicing them down from their midst with both blade and energy bolt. To some of the survivors time seemed to slow, the Sith taking an aeon it seemed to finish off their defence, though it only took thirty seconds at the most.
The quiet after the brief battle was deafening. There were a few muted groans from the wounded, one close to where the Sith warrior stood. A flash of steel as the throwing knife flew was all it took for him to silence that particular interruption. Striding across he retrieved the blade, wiping it clean of blood and brain tissue before replacing it into its position on his belt. His target in sight Quo didn’t even break his stride as he approached the bunker entrance. The doors were open wide, Quo didn’t know why, or even care. Striding through them he was immediately descending below the surface, down towards the laboratories and testing facilities below. Making his way around to the control room he put his back to the wall, stealing a quick glance around the corner. One body lay in the middle of the floor, a blaster mark in the centre of his chest, seemingly one of the bolts that he had marked as ‘return to sender’. That explained why the blast doors hadn’t been activated. Entering the room in a crouch he was alert for anybody that was hidden from view, but finding none. The other operator must have fallen outside the bunker with the other defenders. Finding the controls for the doors he selected them to the closed position, securing them with a new pass code.
Now the post was secure he needed to get down to the lower levels. Looking around he located the lifts down to the subterranean lair below. Stepping inside he used the journey down to restore his calmness and centre himself. Inside the flames of hatred and anger were already raging, boosted by the combat above ground. The taste was delicious. Reaching upwards he crushed the lighting orb that was fixed into the roof of the elevator, cloaking the small space in pitch darkness. In the darkness the Sith smiled to himself, awaiting the opening of the steel sarcophagus on the lower levels, already balanced on the balls of his feet.
The doors slid open onto a well lit corridor. Immediately the bolts of blue white energy were snaking out of the entrance way, arcing outwards before the guards at either side had time to react, shocking their nervous systems and ending their lives before they even struck the tile flooring. From the darkness crimson glowed as his lightsaber ignited as he emerged from the lift, his cloak flowing out behind him, his gold and red eyes glaring.
Armoured droids rounded the corner at speed before halting before the Sith, weapons sprouting from their bodies, all of them targeted on Quo. In a blur he covered the ground between them in an eye’s blink, his left hand gesturing towards the droid furthest away. With a flick from his fingers the droid was suddenly airborne, servos screaming as its gyros tried to compensate for the mass of inputs the brain was receiving. Blaster bolts were pinging in all directions as it flew, tumbling, before ending its trajectory with a crunch and explosion against a bulkhead wall some thirty meters away. A flashing sweep with the saber finished off the second one, slicing through its dome cleaving it into two parts, a glowing diagonal cut marking the Sith blades progress.
Quo knew where he was going, and soon covered the labyrinth of corridors to the mission targeted unit. The briefing had said that he was to get there at all costs. The import of the objective had been drummed into him, there were millions of lives at stake, not that the Sith cared. He was doing it because his Master had told him that he must, and he still needed her to gain more power and control, therefore he would do as she asked. He knew he must get there and retrieve the information, it was of supreme importance, what the briefing had not included was an evacuation strategy, that would be up to him.
Entering the laboratory through the double air lock he took the technicians by surprise. They were too engrossed in the computer screens to notice that it was the Zabrak that had entered, not one of the usual base personnel. Too late one of them looked up and attempted to raise the alarm. A gesture from Quo crushed the white coated scientists throat, a throwing knife taking another through the temple, his body crumpling over the input pad he was seated at. Hearing the thuds as the bodies hit the hard surface the lead technician turned involuntarily to their station, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the vision that he beheld.
Quo was there, right behind him as realisation dawned, the Zabrak grabbed him by the throat, physically lifting his feet clear of the floor. “The antidote,” Quo half whispered, venom in his tone. The technician’s right hand pointed out the cabinet, sealed within a pressurised chamber. Striding across the laboratory, still holding the technician aloft Quo opened the chamber door, a hiss escaping the mechanism, cold, white vapour spilling out a floor level.
“Which one?” he asked, his eyes pointing the direction of the query, ”and the computer files.” He added, tightening his grip, making the scientist grasp at his fingers with both hands. Releasing the grip slightly on the larynx of the tech he waited, sure that his message had hit home.
The white sleeved arm pointed to the middle shelf, towards the yellow topped cannisters that sat on the right hand side. Quo grabbed, taking three in his hand and deposition them in one of his numerous belt pouches. “The files?” He growled.
Releasing the scientist he watched him as he scurried across the room to the computer terminal, hesitating as he looked at the collapsed body of his companion. Quo grasped the collar of the dead technician, wrenching him backwards and flinging him across the room, the body bouncing against the glass of the airlock, veins of fracture spidering across its surface. Quo watched menacingly as the lone survivor sat and inputted the pass code, the screen bursting to life with information. Working though the technician selected a single file, prompting reams of data to cascade across the screen. A quick glance upwards toward the Sith told him that this was the information he sought. A twist of his neck, with a crack that reverberated through the sensors in his prosthesis ended the technician’s usefulness. Quo tapped the input device, sending the file to a predetermined data source.
Keying his communicator he knelt before it “Asset attained, my Master,” he murmured, head bowed beneath his black cowl. A large hologram illuminated the space, a blue and white rendition of his Master.
“Understood. I shall make sure that our forces have the information immediately.” The image of Tasha’Vel Versea disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Reaching out with his hand Quo changed the frequency on the comm.
“Stahoes from Wing-Tzun, fire on the position of my comm link”
“Affirmed” came the voice of Bentre. Quo was already moving, the response fading into the background as he made his way to the elevators, his movements faster than should be possible, the doors of the lift not fully opened before the Zabrak was standing inside the steel box and pressing the touch symbol for the surface. He hoped that it was fast enough to reach there before the humans ship had time to lock on and fire at its target.
The doors opened on the elevator as Quo felt the pressure of the air change as the charge fired from Bentre’s ship arrowed downwards toward the subterranean complex below his feet. Speeding his way to the blast doors he keyed his code into the locking mechanism, the doors opening with a ‘crack’ at the same moment as the bolt of energy came through the roof behind him. The concussion of the impact hit him in the back just as he was moving off in a sprint, blowing him forwards out of the complex. Hitting the top of the fallen building rubble with his right elbow, the lower half of his prosthesis ripping off with the impact, spinning him uncontrollably in his flight.
The base erupted in a ball of light, the image reaching him before the sound. He briefly saw the roof of the complex lift off its foundations, disappearing in a million small fragments, each one a projectile following its own trajectory away from the destruction.
Quo hit the ground, his left thigh breaking with the first collision, his leg flailing at an unnatural angle. Further impacts with battle debris causing more damage each time his body smashed into them. Rolling to a stop like a rag doll, his body twisted and mangled by the sheer power of the explosion, and the resulting pressure wave. Contorted he lay in the middle of the thoroughfare, twisted beyond recognition as debris from the laboratory complex rained down on his body. Blood poured from a multitude of wounds, some caused by the crashing end to his trajectory, some by the flying debris. The dust covering everything made him seem like any other mound of shapeless debris lying around the vicinity, indistinguishable from the detritus by anyone but the most keen of sight.