The Naboo Plasma War : Episode IX

Darth Maul's advance through my ship was bloody and relentless. My hired Trandoshans did their best, bringing out slugthrowers and a few sonic weapons I had managed to acquire, but it wasn't enough. Maul couldn't deflect the solid projectiles back at the shooters, but he was more than capable of blocking them. Whatever pain he felt from the molten slag occasionally hitting his body, he ignored in a way only a sith could. The sonic weapons were too few, Maul quickly figured out the danger they posed and used the force to rip them out of their welder's hands and destroy them. Sonic weapons were rare and tightly regulated, most likely specifically because of the threat they posed to Jedi. I had only been able to get so many without running afoul of Republic arms regulations.

Sealing bulkheads and venting the atmosphere was similarly of little use. Maul's mastery of the Dark Side meant he was perfectly capable of using the force to rip apart any doors blocking the way, and he moved faster than I could reroute the airflow. I didn't even try to pump toxic gas into the corridors. A lucrehulk's ventilation systems were not designed to do that. I could easily end up killing half my organic crew if it went down the wrong shaft. Dofine and Gunray had only been willing to make the attempt because the entirety of the organic crew had been sequestered on the bridge, and they had only been attempting to poison a single room. It was trivial to seal off the bridge's air circulation, keeping them safe until the ship's air filters could purge the toxins. Modifying the ventilation systems to be capable of such a task would be both highly illegal, and even if it weren't, prohibitively expensive.

As it was illegal, I would have had to find a shipyard that I could trust not to turn me in, to get the job done properly, not to rip me off, and it'd have to be a shipyard capable of working on something the size of a Lucrehulk. In other words, something that didn't exist.

The one thing I had that slowed Maul down was my small stock of slug throwing machine guns, ones I had designed personally. The MG-42 had suffered from a significant flaw: its rate of fire was too high. You had a rough 30 seconds of continuous fire before the barrel overheated and you had to change it. Less if you fired all at once rather than in bursts, in some cases the barrel would overheat before you had finished a single ammo box. I had solved that problem with the liberal application of modern technology. There were simply too many bullets for Maul to handle.

Maul had started using metal panels ripping from the corridor walls as a shield, forcing my mercenaries to retreat.

It seemed like it had happened in the blink of an eye, chronometer be damned. The sith apprentice ripped his way through the door to my bridge. His eyes burned with unyielding hatred for me. Before he could advance, two Twi'leks in heavy armor began firing slugthrowers at him. My personal bodyguards, disguised as luxury servants, the Rutian Madeen, and the Lethian Sylee. The fury in Maul's eyes burned impossibly brighter at the final obstacle to his prey, and he bore down on them with savage violence. Their armor proved worth every credit, holding up to the Zabrak's dual bladed lightsaber well. I gripped my cane tight, getting out of my command seat and trying to make my way to my personal quarters.

It all happened so fast. Maul appeared in front of me, running towards me. I swung the grip of my cane at his head like a hammer. Almost casually, he made to block it with one end of his saber. The blade made contact with the cortosis weave in my cane, beginning a feedback loop that shorted out his saber.

The gold-colored grip of my cane slammed into the side of his head, stumbling him. I followed up with a second swing from the opposite direction. Then, I grabbed the grip, pulling in opposite directions, and drawing the hidden blade. With one final motion, I buried the blade in Maul's abdomen, giving it a twist for good measure.

Even as pain took hold of Maul's face, he still stared me in the eyes with unyielding hate. I felt a burning sensation in my stomach, and without warning, I lost control of my legs and fell to the floor on my back. Maul raised his blade high to finish me, only for a stream of bullets to tear into him, finally killing him. Madeen rushed toward his corpse screaming with rage, emptying her magazine into it. Sylee rushed towards me, propping up my head and looking me in my eyes while she rapidly shouted in Twi'leki. I looked down at my legs and groaned even as Sylee forced my head back up so I couldn't see.

My legs...he cut off my legs... my intestines were sprawled all over the cold metal floor.

"Don't look, boss... look at me... don't look..." Sylee said gently. I nodded numbly, and she shouted something at Madeen. The Rutan Twi'lek glanced around herself for a moment, then picked up Maul's saber, cautiously activating it. Sylee winced, then once more forced me to look away.

"I'm sorry... we have to stop the bleeding now."

I shook my head, feeling a chill on my skin.

"No... please..." I begged. Sylee took my hand and used her other hand to hold my hear still so that I could see nothing.

"I'm sorry..."

The sound of my own screaming drowned out the sound of burning flesh.