Discarded.
Deprived.
Disregarded.
Maris Brood contemplated her fierce emotions and the power that they gave her objectively – although she was young, she had gained enough wisdom under Master Shaak Ti's guidance to know that strong emotions can easily cloud judgment.
Does it even matter now that she's gone? Who cares which rules I follow – the Jedi ideas or otherwise?
Maris tried – and failed – to shake off thoughts of her former master. What has she done but lead me on to betray me? When she needed my help the most, she denied me the chance. Thought I wasn't ready. Now she's dead.
Now Maris was seemingly alone, with no authority over her head and no wizened elder of whom she could seek advice.
Her solitude was shattered when a Felucian shaman approached. As the leaders of the archaic, yet somehow Force-strongrace, the shamans were the only members of the various tribes allowed in her presence. Shaak Ti might have believed in equality of all species, but why shouldn't Maris enjoy her authority over the half-brained peoples? The shaman spoke in a grunting, uncivilized language that Maris had learned to understand from years of study and through Force-connections.
Space movement nearing. Fight? Hide? the Shaman asked.
While sending the shaman images through the force, Maris explained with her tongue, "Lead the visitor towards my position in the rancor pit. Fight him if you want, but it is most important that our visitor comes to me. If you survive and have followed my directions well, I may grant you a higher position among the tribes."
The shaman grunted in understanding and immediately fled to spread the plan to his tribe members.
Of course, Maris had already sensed the approaching space craft. She had already come to a conclusion – the assassin was coming on the ship, but she would be the one to leave on it. First, killing the man who murdered her master would relieve her of the maelstrom of emotions she had experienced since the last time he visited. Second, the ship would provide a way off this damp, muggy planet and get her somewhere civilized. A place where she could forget all that had happened here…
If, by some chance, that he could best her in a fight, then Maris wasn't sure what she would do. Her existence with the Jedi had been minor; who cared whether she lived or died? Everyone who cared was dead. Maris had yet to decide if she cared enough to beg for her life.
Her thoughts were cut off as she sensed the quick movements of the assassin. His ship had landed, and he was moving through the jungle.
He is looking for something… the senator? I didn't realize the Empire wanted him so badly. I had just planned to use him as a bargaining chip, but it looks like he might be snatched from me.
With new resolve and a boiling mixture of vengeance and jealousy within her, Maris Brood prepared herself.
He was coming.