Drew Karpyshyn - Darth Bane - Rule of Two

The shuttle's engines flared to life, lifting them off the docking platform.

"Back home to Ruusan. Or at least what's left of it," Bordon muttered glumly as they drifted through the cargo hold doors and out into the upper reaches of the planet's atmosphere.

Darth Bane felt them long before he saw them.

Those ignorant in the ways of the Force saw it as only a weapon or tool: It could strike out against a foe in battle; it could levitate nearby objects and draw them into a waiting palm or fling them across a room. But these were mere wizard's tricks to one who understood its true power and potential.

The Force was a part of all living things, and all living things were a part of the Force. It flowed through every being, every animal and creature, every tree and plant. The fundamental energies of life and death coursed through it, causing ripples in the very fabric of existence.

Even distracted by the agonizing flashes of the blades slicing apart the inside of his skull, Bane was sensitive to these ripples. They gave him an awareness that transcended space and even time, granting him brief glimpses into the always shifting possibilities of the future. That was how, still two kilometers and several minutes away from where Kaan and his army had made their camp, he knew others were already there.

There were eight in total, all human-six men and two women. Mercenaries who had signed on with the Brotherhood for credits and a chance to strike at the hated Republic, they had survived the final battle with Hoth's troops. They had most likely fled the confrontation the instant Kaan had descended into the bowels of the planet's surface to lay his trap for the Jedi, displaying the loyalty of all followers bought and paid for. And now, like blood beetles picking the rotting meat off a bantha's corpse, they had come to scavenge whatever remnants of value they could find from the deserted Sith camp.

"There's someone up ahead," Zannah whispered a minute later. Less attuned to the subtle nuances of the Force than her Master, it had taken her longer to sense the danger. But given her lack of training, the fact that she had noticed anything at all was testament to her abilities.

"Wait here," Bane ordered, holding out a hand to freeze Zannah in her place. Wisely, she obeyed.

He didn't look back as he broke into a full run. The ground rushed by beneath his feet, a blur of motion as he called on the Force to drive him forward. The pain in his head vanished, swept away by the anticipation of battle and the physical exhilaration of his charge.

Within sixty seconds the Sith camp came into view, the outlines of the doomed mercenaries clearly visible as they argued over which objects were worthy of plunder. Six of the looters were gathered in the small clearing at the center of the camp, dividing up the spoils. The other two were on point: sentries stationed near the outskirts of the tents to watch for signs of trouble. Their posts were mere formality, however. The sentries should have been stationed on opposite sides of the camp to guard against assault from either direction. Instead the two men were standing less than twenty meters apart, more interested in having someone to pass the time with than in securing the perimeter.

Bane surveyed the scene with contempt as he bore down on them, the Force allowing him to take in every detail in one quick glance. The men on point were oblivious to his approach, their attention drawn by the angry shouts of disagreement coming from the other six bickering over their ill-gotten gains.

Altering his course slightly so his arrival would be hidden by a large supply tent until the last possible instant, Bane gave a final burst of acceleration and descended upon the camp in a storm of ruin. He drew and ignited his lightsaber in one smooth motion. The keening hum of the crimson blade preceded him, betraying his position a few precious seconds before his arrival. The advance warning gave just enough time for the nearest sentry to draw his blaster, but not nearly enough time to save him from the coming slaughter.

Bane materialized from behind the supply tent and fell on his first victim like a dark wind, slicing him diagonally from shoulder to hip. The man wore battle armor made up of composite plates stitched together on an interwoven padded underlay to allow for flexibility. The vest covering his chest was capable of absorbing several high-powered blaster shots from inside thirty meters, but Bane's blade sliced through the protective layers and carved a fatal five-centimeter gash through the flesh and bone beneath.

As the first victim toppled over, Bane leapt high in the air toward his next foe, instantly closing the ten meters between them and simultaneously evading the hastily fired shot from the second sentry's blaster pistol. As he came down virtually on top of his enemy, he delivered an overhead, two-handed descending chop- a classic move from Djem So, the fifth and most powerfully aggressive form of lightsaber combat. The heavy strike perfectly bisected the unfortunate man's helmet and drove deep into the skull beneath.

The gruesome ends of the first two mercenaries gave the others time to recognize what was happening. They drew their weapons and fired a full volley of blaster bolts at Bane as he turned to face them from across the camp. Smoothly transitioning from the attacking style of Form V to the more defensive style of Form III, Bane deflected the incoming bolts with two-handed parries of his lightsaber, flicking them aside with almost casual disdain.

Twirling his weapon in his right hand, Bane paused to relish the hopelessness and terror emanating from the half a dozen surviving mercenaries as they recognized the inevitable fact of their own deaths. Clustered together in the clearing between the tents, they did the only thing that gave any of them a chance of survival-they broke and ran.

They scattered in all directions: one of the women ran off to the left, two men ran off to the right; the other three turned and fled in a direct line away from the deadly interloper. Still twirling his light-saber, Bane thrust his empty hand out before him, palm extended as he unleashed the Force in a wave of concussive power at the woman fleeing to his left. The wave cut a swath of devastation through the camp. Tents were uprooted from the ground, their material torn and shredded. Wooden supply crates exploded into kindling› the shattered contents spraying out in a shower of splintered shrapnel.

The Force wave slammed into the woman's back, pulverizing her spine and snapping her neck as it drove her facedown into the dirt and pinned her against the ground. Her corpse twitched once, then went forever still.

Clenching the fingers of his left hand tight against his open palm, Bane wheeled toward the two men on his right and thrust his fist up into the air. A dozen forks of blue lightning arced out from above his head to envelop the screaming soldiers, cooking them alive. Shriek-ing in agony, they danced and twitched like marionettes on electric strings for several seconds before their smoking husks collapsed on the ground.

In the few seconds it had taken to dispatch the others, the surviving three mercenaries had reached the far side of the Sith camp. A few meters beyond the edge of the tents a line of trees marked the start of the thick Ruusan forests. The concealing branches taunted them with offers of safety, giving even greater haste to their terror-filled flight. Bane watched them retreat with idle disinterest, savoring their fear.

A handful of steps from freedom, one of the men made the fatal mistake of glancing back over his shoulder to see whether their adversary was following. On a whim, Bane sent his lightsaber hurtling toward him with a casual toss. The spinning blade sliced through the air in a tight loop, crossing the expanse of the camp in a fraction of a second before swooping back to be caught in the waiting hand of its Master.