Lo, from the welkin came the harbingers of havoc. Pregnant with malice, the vessels of bygone silence approached with trails of wrath lingering behind their thrusters, ready to roar. One ship after the other, cradled in the sky as much to girdle the planet, they came upon the denizens of Coruscant to claim what was theirs. No, to claim what is mine.
Behold their conqueror, a Sith Champion, who on that day would usher in the dawn of a new era after claiming victory over the fallen. His was a campaign, nay, a crusade. There would be no end to what was coming except on his terms. There would be no mercy unless he felt merciful, like a whim of hunger to be satiated or staved. There would be no defense from the opposition that could not be surmounted, like an iron ball through a wooden wall. There would be no resistance to his mind and his might that could not be broken, like a hammer upon glass. Resistance is futile.
The fleet consisted of ten Raider-III corvettes, three Pugio and three Fremen-class frigates, two Gladiator cruisers, and two Nesuto Combat Carriers. Aquilae starfighters and Impetus interceptors swarmed in formation through the fleet transported by the various craft. The keystone were the Star Destroyers. An Interdictor, and a pair of Onager armed with orbital bombardment particle cannons. Troop transport shuttles accompanied the formations.
Beneath his dread ships, his brilliant beacons of punishment, the Sith stood atop the roof of a shopping mall, donned in brown robes a fine shade of chocolate almond. About a hundred feet above the ground, he loomed over the masses beneath him, his arms spread toward the sky as if he held those ships in the palms of his hands. Then he spoke so as to be heard, projecting his voice to the cattle to be herded.
“Citizens of Coruscant!” beckoned Levin Mumak.
“I ain’t a citizen I’m just visitin’ ya jackass!” cried an elderly fellow after borrowing a megaphone.
“Behold your conqueror, Levin the Chevin! I hereby declare your world as my stage and I shall do with it as I please! You have no chance to survive! Bide your time! Gyahahahahahahaha!”
“Sir,” spoke a rookie police officer after reacquiring his megaphone, standing before the mall’s main entrance and gazing up. “Please put the model starships down. Gently,” he added. They were indeed model starships, about as real as that Chevin was a world conqueror. However, the biggest were several meters in length, had some weight to them, and if they fell from that height on to someone’s head then that someone would have more than a migraine in the morning. “And get off the roof.”
“None can contend with the will of Levin! Surrender to my fleet and bow to me or be destroyed! Either way you shall perish!” He paused. “Unless you surrender, I mean! Upon which, in servitude to me, you will find a new definition of…of…I seem to have lost my thought. Gyaaahahahahahaaaa!”
He waved his hands for effect, aiming to make it look like the model starships were advancing, but accidentally bumped them into each other. He hoped no one noticed as a broken wing fell away like a feather in the wind, starfighters dropping to the roof like dead birds.
Everything was proceeding as Levin had foreseen. His ships might have been quite obviously small and fake in comparison to their more real counterparts (which the mall did not sell and he could not afford), and were held up only by the Force from their master’s fingertips, but the Sith was executing his plan just so. I am…inevitable!
Meanwhile . . .
The rookie cop traded megaphone for comlink and spoke into it. “This is Officer Reeloy Jenkins requesting backup. Be advised there is a perpetrator atop the roof of the Mannix Mall, north gate, threatening the area with starships. Um…model starships. Suspect appears to be an adult male Chevin. Suspect also appears to be a moron but may be a Force user and may be carrying a lasersword, especially if he’s a Shit. Er, Sith. I say again, officer on site requesting backup. Local police, Sector Rangers, heck, send me the dang Jedi! Huh? Oh, hi Mom. Yep, wrong speed dial again. Yeah, meatloaf sounds good. I love you too.” Clearing his throat, Reeloy found the police broadcast number and repeated the message.
Behold their conqueror, a Sith Champion, who on that day would usher in the dawn of a new era after claiming victory over the fallen. His was a campaign, nay, a crusade. There would be no end to what was coming except on his terms. There would be no mercy unless he felt merciful, like a whim of hunger to be satiated or staved. There would be no defense from the opposition that could not be surmounted, like an iron ball through a wooden wall. There would be no resistance to his mind and his might that could not be broken, like a hammer upon glass. Resistance is futile.
The fleet consisted of ten Raider-III corvettes, three Pugio and three Fremen-class frigates, two Gladiator cruisers, and two Nesuto Combat Carriers. Aquilae starfighters and Impetus interceptors swarmed in formation through the fleet transported by the various craft. The keystone were the Star Destroyers. An Interdictor, and a pair of Onager armed with orbital bombardment particle cannons. Troop transport shuttles accompanied the formations.
Beneath his dread ships, his brilliant beacons of punishment, the Sith stood atop the roof of a shopping mall, donned in brown robes a fine shade of chocolate almond. About a hundred feet above the ground, he loomed over the masses beneath him, his arms spread toward the sky as if he held those ships in the palms of his hands. Then he spoke so as to be heard, projecting his voice to the cattle to be herded.
“Citizens of Coruscant!” beckoned Levin Mumak.
“I ain’t a citizen I’m just visitin’ ya jackass!” cried an elderly fellow after borrowing a megaphone.
“Behold your conqueror, Levin the Chevin! I hereby declare your world as my stage and I shall do with it as I please! You have no chance to survive! Bide your time! Gyahahahahahahaha!”
“Sir,” spoke a rookie police officer after reacquiring his megaphone, standing before the mall’s main entrance and gazing up. “Please put the model starships down. Gently,” he added. They were indeed model starships, about as real as that Chevin was a world conqueror. However, the biggest were several meters in length, had some weight to them, and if they fell from that height on to someone’s head then that someone would have more than a migraine in the morning. “And get off the roof.”
“None can contend with the will of Levin! Surrender to my fleet and bow to me or be destroyed! Either way you shall perish!” He paused. “Unless you surrender, I mean! Upon which, in servitude to me, you will find a new definition of…of…I seem to have lost my thought. Gyaaahahahahahaaaa!”
He waved his hands for effect, aiming to make it look like the model starships were advancing, but accidentally bumped them into each other. He hoped no one noticed as a broken wing fell away like a feather in the wind, starfighters dropping to the roof like dead birds.
Everything was proceeding as Levin had foreseen. His ships might have been quite obviously small and fake in comparison to their more real counterparts (which the mall did not sell and he could not afford), and were held up only by the Force from their master’s fingertips, but the Sith was executing his plan just so. I am…inevitable!
Meanwhile . . .
The rookie cop traded megaphone for comlink and spoke into it. “This is Officer Reeloy Jenkins requesting backup. Be advised there is a perpetrator atop the roof of the Mannix Mall, north gate, threatening the area with starships. Um…model starships. Suspect appears to be an adult male Chevin. Suspect also appears to be a moron but may be a Force user and may be carrying a lasersword, especially if he’s a Shit. Er, Sith. I say again, officer on site requesting backup. Local police, Sector Rangers, heck, send me the dang Jedi! Huh? Oh, hi Mom. Yep, wrong speed dial again. Yeah, meatloaf sounds good. I love you too.” Clearing his throat, Reeloy found the police broadcast number and repeated the message.
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