Part 7 of the Star Wars fanfic
Deus Ex Machina
General Grevious saw the destruction his prisoner had wrought and angrily slammed his fist on the control panel.
“Get every assault druid and Magnaguard up there,” he yelled at the nearest machine. “It’s high time I end his pathetic existence.” He removed his cloak and set four lightsabers on a magnetic clip around his hip. He had no time for taunting and tactic. The cyborg was set to unleash his weapons on the Sith and strike to kill. His torture, he realized, had backfired, creating a being more powerful than the one he had imprisoned nine months ago. The General could not afford to let the Sith escape. He had to rectify his mistake.
Wraith re0entered his cell and waited, listening with the Force. In the past, his training would have told him to attack the General exploiting the element of surprise and fear of the unknown. He could have done that now, in methods he could only dream of previously. But the Force had shown him a different destiny. Grevious would die at the hands of another. His destiny was not intertwined with the cyborg’s. Wraith had a different purpose in the downfall of his jailer: he would humiliate him, causing him to lose face and make further mistakes. This would render him in the state in which he would be when he would face his killer. The Force had done more: it had shown him how the Clone Wars would end. Or rather the different possibilities and outcomes. He saw a future where the Jedi emerged victorious, but be so weak what it would no longer uphold its philosophies and practices but sell out to the highest bidder. He saw a future where the Sith ruled; some areas of the universe eradicated and sundered into black holes. Others were colonized under a military rule. Death and destruction threatened the very creation of life. Whatever future he saw, they all ended the same: one side eradicating the other, only to later on eradicate itself. He sought one future; one where he saw suffering and pain, followed by peace and prosperity. To do that he had to follow a unique path and ironically, or perhaps it was destiny, his apprenticeship with Darth Mortris had given him the option to do so.
Grevious and his troops saw the Sith leaning against the wall of his cell, clearly awaiting for their arrival.
“Shoot to kill,” ordered the General as he spit his arms into two and ignited a lightsaber in each. Laser shot at Wraith but not hit him. A Force barrier dissipated each shot before it could hit his person. Grevious roared in anger and took a step forward before Wraith pushed with the Force and flung the cyborg with his entire regimen backwards and out of the cell.
“What’s wrong General? Can’t your droids aim properly?” he taunted. Grevious lunged at him smashing his weapons against the Force Barrier. Wraith held fast and no matter the strength of the cyborgs blows, nothing could penetrate that barrier. Wraith smiled mischievously and spun to face the wall. He placed both hands on it and gave the General as small, taunting, wave.
During his months of meditation, the Force had enlightened him to various aspects of science and power. He had discovered that by simply looking at things with a different perspective, he had the potential to do the impossible. His new powers, far beyond what he had during his apprenticeship, were proof of that. He had been reborn as a man, as a being of the Force and he was eager to try out his new powers.
The bonds which held his molecular structure together loosened and slipped between the atoms of the durasteel wall. The Force Barrier slowly dissipated, but he did not require it any more. Grevious’s plasma swords passed through him, his body having become intangible.
“What witchcraft is this, Sith?” cried Grevious as he watched, stunned. Wraith took as step and his body began going through the wall.
“See you on the other side General,” he said before completely disappearing.
Wraith’s cell was on the fourth floor of a straight building. When he phased through the wall, all that awaited him was a free fall to his death. The Sith solidified himself again and used the Force to slowly descend. After a few uncertain seconds, his bare feet gently touched solid ground again. The sun was setting and Wraith stood rooted on the spot, catching his breath, and allowing his face to soak up the warmth. For the first time in months he could truly feast his eyes upon the yellow and purple sky and the freedom that lay ahead.
“What are your orders General?” said the leading battle droid. General Grevious snapped himself back to reality and bullied his brain into action.
“Alert the ground battalion. Lock down the hangers and every access point to the facility. I want a complete lockdown of anything that can fly. Do not let him off this planet!”
Wraith was still enjoying the sunset when the first squad of droids surrounded him.
“Halt,” screeched one of them. Wraith raised his hands nonchalantly, before dropping them back down. More droids kept joining the fray. Wraith did not need to hear his heavy footsteps to know that the General was approaching quickly. He could feel his turmoil from a galaxy away: his pain, anger and suffering – it was as if the cyborg was built on all things negative. Wraith could almost taste the pain that shaped the Kaleesh general into the mechanical monstrosity approaching him. He couldn’t help but smile. Wraith was in total serenity with the Force and, indirectly, he had the General to thank. He no longer felt anger or fear – he didn’t need them to be powerful, contrary to is Sith instruction.
“Stupid droids,” yelled Grevious. “Shoot him. Kill him.” The droids aimed their blasters as Wraith.
Only, Wraith has disappeared.
Wraith stumbled and fell face forward.
“He’s on the roof General,” he heard from behind him. A lone droid aimed a sniper blaster at the Sith and Wraith had barely scrambled behind a vent for safety. He felt weak, spent and could not stop wheezing. It was foolish to bend space over such a distance. His teleportation had left his spent, and now a droid had him at its mercy. All he could manage was a small blast of Force, which smashed against the droid’s knee joint. The robot wobbled uncertainly and then simply fell over the roof. Still not believing his luck, Wraith mustered the energy to stand up.
Just one more, he thought. All he needed was one final push, one final burst of power. He could see the horizon from here: there lay freedom and he had come too far, endured too much, just to stop now. He felt his energy return and knew that he would be free today. With renewed vigor, he peered over the edge and waved at the General below.
“So long General. Thank you for your hospitality,” he yelled, smiling as he saw the cyborg take his anger out on his robotic subordinates.
“Get him,” he heard him yell. Wraith walked to the other side of the building before spinning and breaking into a run. Putting all his faith, feelings and his very life into the hands of the Force, Wraith leapt off the edge of the roof and soared a good ten feet into the air.
“Shoot him when he lands,” ordered Grevious. But Wraith kept on soaring, until he was flying forward, away from the prison which held him for nearly a year.
“Um, Sir? He’s not landing,” said a droid. Grevious growled and swung his hand at the droids. Its head flew into the air and tumbled uselessly.
“I can see that!” he screamed. “Get him.” But it was too late and all the cyborg could do was watch as is former prisoner flew off into the horizon.