Lightsabers are terrifying things. A tool that can cut through almost any substance in the known galaxy is fundamentally unsettling to be around. Even when I am the one wielding the weapon, I cannot help but be a little freaked out by the hum of the plasma blade. That lingering fear is a liability when you are forced to fight monks who can read your surface emotions and use them against you. It is simply not wise to rely on a tool that you cannot get the hang of because you are too busy worrying about accidentally lopping off your own limb.
That is where my new collection comes in. Through my "extracurricular" activities at the Academy and various salvage opportunities on missions, I have discovered that there are several materials capable of resisting a lightsaber blade. I picked up a lightsaber resistant bracer on one of the supply runs, and now I am collecting them like some obsessive trading card game enthusiast. After all, the lightsaber is a tool that Light Siders and Darksiders use alike. Having a surprise defense against something that is traditionally considered unblockable is an advantage I refuse to ignore.
Mandalorian Iron, Songsteel, Ultrachrome, and Cortosis weave armor. It is truly surprising how many lightsaber resistant materials exist and even more surprising just how rarely the Force users of this era actually use them.
Someone once said that first comes speed, then comes accuracy, and then strength. The Jedi and the Brotherhood both fought with an emphasis on speed because of the amazing cutting power of their blades. Why wear heavy plates when a single strike bypasses them anyway? I understand the logic that with great speed comes an easier time of dodging or running away, but I still want the materials. If nothing else, they would make for a fantastic, improved armored suit for my next corporate persona.
There wasn't much to talk about as the weeks turned into months. The days rolled along in a monotonous cycle of training, theft, and minor skirmishes. For the missions I was forced to go on, I simply hung back in the shadows and took advantage where I could. To the untrained eye, it would have seemed the Brotherhood of Darkness was winning. They hadn't lost a single battle since I was "recruited," but these were low level fights for low level resources.
The Brotherhood would conquer a system that had little strategic or monetary value and boast about it as a grand victory, and yet each time we returned to base, there were fewer Brotherhood members in the mess hall. It didn't help their cause that the Brotherhood of Darkness suffered from constant in fighting, and their supposed allies would abandon them whenever the situation called for a tactical retreat.
The Jedi, on the other hand, knew how to fight to gain the best long term results. They were willing to give up entire sectors at a great cost to the Brotherhood, stretching the Dark Side's supply lines thin. As a combat army, the Jedi were superior. The Brotherhood had better individual duelists, but they charged in and fought like uncoordinated demons, ultimately getting their asses handed to them by non Force users. Yes, it took a platoon of soldiers with blasters to take down one skilled Dark Sider, but there was never a shortage of normal people in the Republic.
It was strange that the Light Side was using normal soldiers more efficiently to kill the Darksiders than the Darksiders were using their own. I fully expected the Brotherhood to use civilians as meat shields, but due to their overwhelming arrogance and strategic stupidity, they didn't. They thought themselves above such petty tactics, preferring the "glory" of the charge.
The end of the war came suddenly and with terrifying finality. A localized civil war within the Brotherhood killed untold amounts of Darksiders, and then a massive Republic strike team laid waste to the entire planet I was on. Orbital strikes began glassing the surface, turning the dust ball into a wasteland of molten silica. Fortunately, I was deep enough underground in the reinforced Academy bunkers to escape the initial destruction, along with a desperate crowd of others.
When a group of massively powerful Dark Side Force users realize that there is no way to survive, they become murder hobos. The Darksiders began stealing whatever they could carry, and I was no different. I didn't bother with heavy crates of gold or credits. Instead, I filled a reinforced sack with Holocron cubes.
Hearing the planet being bombarded from underground was a haunting experience. The low, rhythmic thud of the orbital cannons felt like a giant's heartbeat echoing through the stone. But the bombardment was a secondary thought once I realized the halls were being stalked by the Brotherhood of Darkness Masters. Each one was systematically killing any and all the initiates they could find. It seemed they knew there was no way out, and they weren't going to leave any survivors for the victors to interrogate or "redeem."
"Master, please! I can help you fight them!" I heard a young girl, an initiate no older than twelve, plead in the corridor outside my hiding spot.
"You are a loose end," the Master's voice was cold and hollow.
A sharp hiss of a lightsaber and a dull thud followed. I didn't even try fighting the Masters. My greatest skills were aligned with deception, not direct confrontation with killing machines. Yes, I had Force Lightning and other potent abilities, but the Masters were seasoned warriors who knew how to deflect, avoid, and block all kinds of Force powers. They were so in touch with the Force that I watched one Master Force push an initiate into a side room just as the boy tried to trigger a suicide vest. The explosion was contained by the Master's telekinetic barrier, and he simply moved on as if he had just stepped over a puddle.
I made myself as small as possible. Thank the Force that I could hide my presence and disguise myself with illusions. My paranoia was kicking into overdrive. While I knew I could fool most initiates with my abilities, I wasn't sure if my illusions would hold up against the scrutiny of a Master who was actively hunting for life signs.
The answer was to go somewhere that the Masters wouldn't want to go. I hid in the depths of the primary trash compactor.
"The smell is a small price to pay for invisibility," I whispered to myself, wading through the metallic refuse and discarded organic waste.
I was feeling pretty smug with my choice of a safe haven. It was the last place a "noble" Sith Lord would look. That was until a panicked initiate, perhaps looking for a way to clear his own path or simply lashing out in terror, decided it would be easier to kill anything moving in the waste by activating the compactor.
The red light began to flash, and the heavy durasteel walls groaned as they began their slow, inevitable crawl toward the center. I had a lightsaber that I could easily use to cut my way out, but the moment I reached for it, I felt a presence.
A Master had been following the initiate. Through the narrow slats of the compactor door, I saw a tall, shadowed figure emerge from the darkness of the hallway.
"Master Kaan?" the initiate stammered, his hand still on the compactor's control lever. "I... I thought I heard someone in there."
The Master didn't speak. He simply raised a hand. I felt the air grow cold as he began to drain the initiate of his life essence. The boy withered, his skin graying and eyes sinking into his skull until he collapsed into a heap of dry husks.
I held my breath, reinforcing my Force Cloak to the point of mental strain. I would have been next. I could feel the Master's senses probing the area, brushing against the exterior of the compactor like a cold wind. But then, the bombardment stopped. The silence that followed was even more terrifying than the noise. It meant the Republic ships had finished their work and the ground troops were landing.
The Master left immediately, his footsteps echoing away toward the hangar bays. I don't know if he actually knew I was there and deemed me not worth the effort, or if he simply didn't want to be caught without his allies when the Jedi strike teams arrived. Regardless, he was gone.
I, on the other hand, did not move. I used a short, controlled burst of telekinesis to jam the compactor's gears, stopping the walls just as they began to press against my shoulders. I stayed right where I was. Where else was I going to go? I needed the Jedi and their Republic army to do their thing and soften up the remaining Dark Side Masters.
"Just a little longer, Ban," I told myself, the stench of the compactor finally starting to overwhelm my senses. "Just wait for the shouting to die down."
Hours passed. I heard the distant sounds of blaster fire, the distinctive clash of lightsabers, and the bark of Republic officers giving orders. The Academy was being cleared. Eventually, the sounds of fighting moved deeper into the lower levels, away from the waste management sector.
I finally used my stolen lightsaber to cut a neat hole through the jammed compactor door. I stepped out into the hallway, which was now littered with bodies and scorched by blaster marks. I shed my initiate's tunic, revealing a set of plain, scorched clothes I had hidden underneath. I looked like just another victim of the Brotherhood's cruelty.