Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights III_ Patterns of Force - Michael Reaves [105]
He swung back to circle around I-Five next, the skinpopper of bota in one hand, the pyronium in the other. “And this creature; a sentient droid? I am curious to know how such a feat was accomplished.”
“That knowledge,” said I-Five, “is lost even to me. I doubt you’d figure it out.”
Vader shrugged off the droid’s scorn. “No matter. When I have made use of this, I suspect I will possess even that knowledge.”
He stepped carelessly back to the center of the room as if to pose before the great transparent expanse of the window, still considering the objects in his hands. He looked at his Inquisitor and said, “You are blessed, Probus Tesla. Today you will witness my utter triumph.”
Before Jax could guess what he meant to do, Vader had emptied the contents of the skinpopper into a receptacle on his chest plate.
“Master!” cried Tesla, starting forward.
The Dark Lord held out a hand to stay him. “Merely an analysis, Tesla. I would not be so foolish as to—”
Vader stopped abruptly. His helmeted head tilted back in surprise. “What—?”
He was quiet, almost contemplative. “Interesting …,” he said softly. “I seem to have somehow—”
Then he stiffened, as in sudden pain. In a moment, his armored form was covered with crackling blue energy. The Dark Lord began to jerk spasmodically as the energy intensified.
Jax quickly sloughed the Inquisitor’s robe and ignited his Sith blade. Neither Vader nor anyone else in the room seemed to notice.
The Dark Lord continued to stand, rooted to the spot, staring at the frenetic patterns of light that chased over and around him. A shock wave of Force hit Jax then, a sense of intensity beyond anything he’d ever experienced. For a fleeting moment he understood what was happening, realized he was experiencing the faintest echo of the unimaginable connection that Vader was feeling—the connection with the Cosmic Force.
Jax raised his lightsaber. This was the time to act.
He had no chance. Locked in some sort of dark fugue, Darth Vader began hurling Force energy in every direction at once, as if he fought an army of swarming enemies. But the blows were random, spasmodic, striking the walls, the ceiling, the floors. It was as if the Force struck through him, using the Dark Lord as a puppet—or, more appropriately, as a weapon.
One of the first volleys struck the control room window, shattering its vast expanse into myriad tiny shards. They ballooned outward and fell like a rain of deadly stars to the ground. A tattered console chair tore from the floor and went flying at I-Five. It caught him on the right shoulder and flung him backward, pinning him against the rear wall of the room and crushing his chassis. The durasteel frame of the chair embedded itself in the ferrocrete, effectively pinning I-Five there.
The EM field around Laranth fell and the pulse emitter that had been scrambling her Force sense dropped from her lekku to the floor. Freed, she dived for Kaj, who huddled in a corner by the window, quaking, pale, and seemingly helpless.
Rhinann scurried for cover behind a ruined control console. Dejah still stood in the center of the room, a mere meter and a half from the heart of the storm. Her face was rapt, smiling, her large eyes bright with pleasure.
“Dejah!” Jax shouted at her. “Dejah, get out of the way!”
She turned back to give him a coy glance over one shoulder, then advanced even closer to the embattled Sith, lifting her arms as if to embrace him. She was embraced by the Force instead—a burst of Vader’s unstable power hurled her across the chamber, to impact with bone-breaking force against the wall. Jax didn’t need the Force to tell him she was was dead.
He had no time to be stunned. He struggled to parry the random blasts, but Vader’s instability was roiling the Force so badly, a few blasts got through. One was enough to crush the third inquisitor.
Jax finally resorted to shouting, “Laranth! Cloak him!