Chapter XX –
Confrontation
–
Part I
“So, he has recovered
MX-492. Excellent,”
Regan commented in a hushed tone. A grin began to
stretch across her lips upon hearing the
conversation taking place within the Clawdite’s
suite through her neurotransmitter. She also found
their exchange regarding her as humorous and had to
stifle a snicker by covering her mouth with her
hand.
She took a few moments to regain her composure and
then approached the door but not before tucking her
small blaster into the small of her back, inside the
waistband of her pants.
The door chime unexpectedly sounded causing Vaarn
and Rheu to exchange uneasy glances.
“Who?” Rhue exclaimed.
“I
don’t know,” Vaarn scowled. “Here,” he picked up the
non-descript bag sitting at his feet and thrust it
at his partner, “put this somewhere safe while I see
who’s here.”
Rhue grabbed the bag and disappeared into the other
room.
Vaarn watched him until he was out of sight and then
walked over to the door and peered into the tiny
eyepiece that would allow him to see who was out in
the hallway. He recognized the person [a term he
used loosely in this case] immediately which caused
his scowl to become even more pronounced.
“Damn!”
he seethed under his breath.
Regan waited patiently in the hallway. She knew that
either by force or invitation, she would enter the
suite, but no one would stop her from gaining entry.
She absently tapped her foot as her eyes darted up
and down the hall.
“What?” Rheu asked as he emerged from the bedroom.
Vaarn turned on him quickly and held up a hand for
silence.
Regan activated the chime again, smiling in a rather
blasé fashion. She knew the men could see her, but
more importantly, there was no way for them to
escape.
Vaarn walked away from the door and motioned to his
partner to come closer.
“Regan is out there,”
he whispered.
Rheu’s eyes lit up and a fiendish grin developed on
his face.
Vaarn rolled his eyes. “You’ve never crossed a
cyborg, have you?” he quietly inquired with a
roguish smile not knowing she could hear their every
word.
Rheu turned his head away, fighting with himself on
whether to answer the question. “Not…exactly,” he
murmured. Rheu recollected his recent [and only]
encounter with the cyborg as he pictured Regan in
his mind. Her exquisite body, draped in a dress that
accentuated every luscious curve, long dark hair
that he had wanted to lose himself in, mischievous
dark eyes and a soft voice that tantalized him. He
could envision her clearly, the smug grin on his
face growing more widespread, until he remembered
the pain she inflicted upon him. Still, although he
harbored a grudge against her for that he still
found a certain appeal at her skills of domination.
Vaarn smacked Rheu – who appeared to be daydreaming
– with his palm on his partner’s shoulder. “Wake up,
you slug!”
Rheu shook his head. “Huh? Oh, sorry.”
“I
have a feeling she knows we’re in here – or at least
that one of us is.”
Regan’s patience was wearing thin and she decided
she had waited long enough. “Looks like I have to do
this the hard way,” she decided as she glanced down
at her hands and sardonically said, “I hope I don’t
break a nail.”
Completely ignoring the electronic keypad, Regan
inserted her fingers into the edge of the door and
attempted to force it aside.
“The wench is trying to break in!” Rheu exclaimed in
surprise.
“How perceptive!” Vaarn quipped with a quick roll of
his eyes. He knew they were trapped with the only
exits being the door or a window. The latter was out
of the question for they were too far above ground
level to survive the jump. There was also the
consideration of the toxin in such a leap – the
vials could shatter and his leverage, not to mention
his life, would be nonexistent.
“Get a weapon!” he barked as he withdrew his
hold-out blaster and waited.
After a small struggle and the slightest beads of
sweat on her forehead, Regan pulled and then pushed
the durasteel door aside and self-assuredly stepped
into the suite.
She wasn’t surprised to see two blasters pointed
directly at her.
“My, my, such a lovely greeting from two fine
gentlemen,” she hissed as her jaw tightened.
“What do you want?” Vaarn acerbically demanded, his
weapon never straying from his target.
Regan audaciously looked up at the ceiling and then
slowly brought her head back down until her eyes
were in a direct line with Vaarn’s. “You know what I
want and…” she lowered her voice “I know you have
it.”
“I
don’t think so,” Vaarn replied as he slowly pulled
back on the trigger of his blaster.
Regan knew Vaarn wouldn’t hesitate to fire his
weapon but Rheu seemed more tentative. “Give me the
toxin and I’ll let you escape.”
Rheu glanced from his partner to the cyborg and back
again. “Oh yeah? What about these infernal
adornments around our necks?”
“Oh, you mean these?” Regan implied as she drew
closer to him, pointing to the thin strip of plastex
around Rheu’s neck.
“Stop,” Rheu warned, leveling his blaster at her
head.
Intrigued by this sudden act of bravery, Regan
stared at him briefly. Defiantly, she let her arm
drop and then casually placed her hands into the
pockets of her jacket. Within seconds, she had
grasped the miniature rectangular device inside and
activated one of the buttons.
Almost immediately, both Vaarn and Rheu stiffened
and reached for their necks. Reynard’s long held
commitment to his service coming foremost to their
minds. Each of them began to gasp for air as they
felt their larynx being squeezed shut and their
collars gradually tightened upon their throats.
Grinning nefariously, Regan sauntered toward Rheu
and thrust her index finger into the underside of
his chin, the nail puncturing his skin causing blood
to trickle down her finger. “I thought you meant
those wonderful necklaces. Not so bold now are you?”
Before she could react, Rheu threw his arm up and
smashed his weapon against the side of Regan’s head.
Stunned, the cyborg stepped back just as Vaarn
struggled to bring his weapon to bear. The
constriction of his throat and lack of air crippled
his ability to aim proficiently so he took a chance
and fired his blaster.
Regan doubled over as the blast scorched a portion
of her stomach, revealing numerous wiring. “You
barbaric fools!” she spat, full of rage.
“Is there…any…part…of you…that’s…not mechanical?”
Vaarn struggled to ask mockingly while he tried to
stop the plastex from tightening further.
“You’ll never know,” she snarled with eyes blazing
of hatred.
Rheu took advantage of the cyborg’s diverted
attention and sent laser fire directly at Regan,
hitting her in the left temple. The surprise blast
knocked her backward onto the floor, the shot
damaging her delicate circuitry, but by no means did
it incapacitate her.
Rheu watched as Regan got to her feet and charged
toward him, it was at that moment that he saw a
small device on the floor.
The miniature rectangular device didn’t escape
Vaarn’s notice either as he stumbled over only to
collapse to the floor, an arms length from the
fusion inhibitor. He dragged himself closer even
though the oxygen deprivation was now affecting his
vision and he couldn’t be sure where his hand was
grasping. His lungs were burning and he knew it
wouldn’t be long before he passed out.
Regan was so intent on punishing Rheu that she paid
no attention to his companion. She relished watching
the Clawdite uncontrollably shift from his natural
form back to the human he had assumed as he neared
unconsciousness. The rancor swirled in her mind as
she grabbed him with one hand by the throat and
hoisted him into the air as if he weighted no more
than some child’s toy.
Just as Regan threw Rheu viciously into a wall,
Vaarn wrapped his hand around the mechanism. Not
knowing which of the two buttons to push, he
impetuously chose.
A
sudden burst of air rushed into his restricted
airway. His head reeling, he stubbornly fought
against the wave of nausea that threatened him.
As
Rheu lay in a heap against the wall, Regan clenched
her teeth and immediately turned toward Vaarn. The
bloodlust had taken over and her only mission now
was to kill.
Helplessly lying on the floor, Vaarn boldly raised
his blaster at the berserk cyborg and with an
unsteady hand took aim.
Like an animal, she stalked toward him as he fired,
the laser bolt hitting her square in the eye,
searing the circuitry and leaving her blind. He
quickly fired again and hit the side of her face,
exposing raw and now smoldering flesh to mingle with
burned and exposed wiring.
Regan’s resulting high-pitched scream was akin to a
firecat and just as deadly as she grabbed her face.
His breathing started to come easier and with the
other afflictions easing, Vaarn got to his feet, his
blaster still concentrated on the cyborg. He slowly
pulled his trigger finger back and watched as the
laser fire impacted upon her other eye.
Regan was utterly blind, enraged, and in intense
pain. There was no way Vaarn could have anticipated
her next move.
In
her mind, Regan had failed her mission and only the
direst of consequences would suffice as her
punishment. She knew Reynard would never accept her
folly and would welcome her destruction. Her only
absolution was that the two Clawdite’s deaths would
be marked with her own.
Without warning, Regan Sile self-destructed with
such an explosion, all that remained were tattered
remnants of the stylish suite.
__________________________________*****__________________________________
Sakoya had no idea
where she was. Just a moment before she had been
looking into her daughter’s hate-filled eyes and the
next she was…where?
“No matter,” she
shrugged. “As long as Mara stays away from me so I
can heal.” Not knowing how much time she had, the
Jedi lay down and attempted to connect with the
lighter side of the Force.
‘Why?’ she asked within
the confines of her mind as she tried to relax. ‘Why
do I feel as though I’m being pushed into a
confrontation with Mara? To fight one child and save
another. It hardly seems reasonable. I can feel the
Force around me, but it is not the same comforting
assurance I am accustomed too. It…feels…restrained.’
Albeit slowly, Sakoya
drifted into a realm not of her creation…or control.
“Obi-Wan? Where are
you? I can’t see…”
Far ahead, she could
discern the flashing of light – green and red – that
penetrated the darkness around her.
“Mon aimé?” Sakoya said
aloud as she walked toward the colored lights.
No one answered.
She kept walking,
mystified that the colored lights she was after
remained distant. She quickened her pace but the
lights came no closer. Breaking into a run, she
chased after them and had to stop herself quickly as
they abruptly transposed.
She gasped when she saw
the source of the illumination; Obi-Wan was battling
Mara, their lightsabers clashing and sizzling. As
one would thrust, the other would parry. Theirs was
a dance of combat and to the victor came the spoils.
Sakoya helplessly
watched as the duo intensified their duel. She soon
discovered that she could no longer move her feet
and her voice remained silent.
Obi-Wan advanced.
Mara countered.
The combatants circled;
each strike more potent than the next.
The collision of color
beat into her ears, pulsing and reverberating. The
pounding refused to wane as she tried to block it
from her mind. Her hands clasped over her ears and
tears began to stream down her cheeks from the
driving pain. She wanted to scream in agony, but
still no sound would come from her throat.
Still the battle raged.
And then she watched
her daughter slice off her husband’s hand, his
lightsaber falling into the blackness.
Mara didn’t waver and
gleefully drove her crimson lightsaber through Obi-Wan’s
chest.
The Jedi Master
collapsed. Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead.
__________________________________*****__________________________________
The Maquisic Inn was a flurry of activity
following the explosion. Fire had engulfed not only
the Clawdites’ suite but the neighboring one as well
and appeared to be hungry to consume more. People
were chaotically running through the hallways in an
effort to flee the destruction. Some jammed into the
turbolifts hoping to reach the lower levels; others
pushed and shoved in the stairwells as panic
overtook them. Smoke and debris was everywhere,
which hampered the rescue teams that were scurrying
all over. Fire hoses were scattered in the hallway
as firefighters tried to control the raging blaze
and shouting directions to one another.
It
amazed one survivor how so much damage could result
from a self-destructed cyborg. Although her
self-destruct mechanism was much more catastrophic
than he would have imagined. Reynard created more
than a cyborg – he created a demolition squad within
one body.
The humanoid opened his eyes and saw a huge gaping
hole above him, along with smoke and dust on all
sides. He poked his head up just enough to see he
was pinned by a large chunk of debris that had
fallen on him and then lay back down. The small
exertion he had expended made his heart pump
fiercely and he knew he must have internal injuries.
He didn’t have to see his left arm to know that its
numbness signified another injury, but he glanced at
it regardless and saw the broken bone jutting out of
his forearm.
“Musta landed on that one,” he stated with chagrin.
Lifting his right hand to his face, he soon
discovered several scratches, a few bruises, and
blood on his fingers as he brought his hand back
down. He stopped moving to catch his breath but he
knew he had to get out of the hotel. He could only
assume his partners fate and judging by the
commotion he was hearing they were not the only ones
injured.
He
slowly tried to sit up but had to settle for
propping himself up on one elbow.
“Cracked rib too, maybe more than one,” he uttered
disdainfully. “At least one arm is intact.”
It
appeared that the only way he was going to free
himself was to use his good arm and drag himself out
from under the combination of floor and ceiling that
had toppled down upon him.
His movements were deliberate since he couldn’t
simply pull himself free in his current condition
and his raspy breathing wasn’t helping the situation
as he fought for air. He grimaced as the smell of
smoke penetrated his lungs and forced him to cough.
“AARRRGGGGHHHH,” he irritably groaned and stopped to
try to regain some semblance of breathing.
It
took more time than he would have preferred but he
finally managed to get out from under the pile just
as another portion of flooring crashed down right
where he had been.
His legs were his next concern. He could move his
feet, which was a good sign so he attempted to move
one leg. Although it was battered, he estimated the
damage to be more superficial than serious. Next
came the other leg, which was more painful, but
nothing seemed to be broken.
The heat and smoke from the fire was even more
threatening than his broken bones and he knew he
wouldn’t be able to withstand much more. Biting back
the pain, he forced himself to stand and limped
toward the room’s door.
Clutching the edge of the durasteel door with all of
his might, the Clawdite tugged and pulled, ignoring
the erratic shapeshifting of his arm.
The door remained steadfast.
Gritting his teeth, he tried again, refusing to
resign himself to such a fate.
It
narrowly opened – at most a few centimeters.
It
was enough. It was a symbol of hope and that was all
the Clawdite needed. Grunting loudly, he pulled
again and kept pulling until the door gave way, far
enough for him to fit through.
Vaarn glanced back at the hole where he had fallen
through from his room and knew that his fall had
ultimately spared his life. However, he had a
feeling that his friend along with the toxin had not
been as fortunate.
Slipping into the smoke filled hallway, he limped
away…and right into one of the firefighters.
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