Corellia, Part I

Lord Khellin and his men had not yet arrived at Corellia—not that they'd really had enough time to mobilize and get there. Her Lordship simply gave them our berth before telling them that the Captain was their contact. He would direct them in her absence or connect them via holo, depending on the situation.

Using assassins to deal with other assassins would be a fairly good idea. Even using Kellin and his men in a bodyguard capacity, once we've found and extracted Vowrawn somewhere safe isn't a bad plan.

Pierce was off the ship and on the first transport heading for Vaiken Spacedock, as excited as a schoolboy released for the holidays. He did resent the back-and-forth, and I didn't blame him. It was a waste of time, but it's hard to coordinate something as big as the assault on the Bastion via holo over that distance.

Or so I imagine. Intercepted transmissions are a popular mission-killing thing.

Our task, Her Lordship's and mine, was essentially simple: a representative of the Hand, Servant Eleven (which made no sense, because I couldn't think of a species that that hands with more than ten fingers between the two of them) would serve as our handler. This Servant was tasked with locating Darth Vowrawn, then we would extract him to a place of safety—probably the Astral Blight.

Meanwhile, we were looking for assassins; the Captain was running simulations and whatever else he does in order to thin the possible landing areas, given Corellia's disrupted (and deconstructed) state. The Hand was aware of three assassins, probably all from different backgrounds. I thought back to Her Lordship's campaign on Balmorra, hiding her real objective amongst the bodies of the Empire's general foes to facilitate Baras' requirement that no one realize she was an assassin and not just a vanguard in an Imperial Sith-run military action.

So I'll bet we're looking at three very different individuals.

Corellia smelled like smoke and burnt duracrete; the noise of engagements between the Republic and the Empire made me wonder how anyone was supposed to sleep when they weren't fighting. The sky was hazy and dark, in spite of the early afternoon hour.

I'd never seen a true urban warzone, and would have been happy if I never had. The idea of civilian casualties seemed more concrete with every burned out, bombed out, or collapsed residential area we passed. Because, of course, that's part of urban warfare—the Republic would be panicking about civilian casualties, stretching themselves thin to stop them rather than ignoring them to strike at the Imperial forces causing the damage.

Short-sighted. Still, the populace seemed to be fighting back—or that was the report the Captain fed us as we traveled by speeder. Her Lordship didn't want to risk running into one of Baras' creatures, thus having her status as a living woman disclosed before it absolutely had to be.

The Captain's excuse for being here when he was supposed to be heading back to Dromund Kaas was his business. He'd probably cite some kind of technical malfunction that messed with the hyperdrive or something—or maybe that I was dying from some unidentified malady and needed proper care. (Hint-hint, nudge-nudge.)

We took only one vehicle through the war torn streets, me riding behind Her Lordship, to make ourselves a smaller target. I did what I could to blot us out, but found the exercise when moving at speed disorienting. It was good practice, though I nearly fell on my nose when I finally swung off the vehicle.

"Careful," Her Lordship prompted, catching me by the arm.

"Thanks…" I mumbled, regaining my balance and rolling my shoulders. The disorientation cleared quickly.

"Quinn, we're here," Her Lordship announced into her holocom.

"I have your location. You've reached the general vicinity of the best and most discreet landing spot. It's on the roof of the building you're facing. A shuttle recently touched down, but we've no way of knowing whether your man—assuming my prediction is accurate—is still nearby."

The building was mostly undamaged; except for the Imperial troops being pushed back, the sector was fairly quiet compared to others. Mostly commercial, which made it less of an effective target for the Empire since residential areas were softer and resulted in more chaos for the Republic to worry about.

"Finding him is my concern," I announced, looking around. A quick ping—or so I decided to call it—of anyone we met would probably let me find the assassin easily. I could scan a lot of people in a short time if I needed to. After all, I caught Rylon and Dellocon with an un-honed ability, out of the corner of my eye (metaphorically speaking). I was better trained, now.

"Then we'll start at the bottom and move up. Any news on Khellin?"

"No, my lord, but fighting is moving in your direction. In this case, the Imperial Armed Forces are being pushed back. I'll contact you if the situation changes."

"Then we'll intervene if we need to," Her Lordship responded. "But securing our objectives must remain the priority."

"Of course, my lord."

And that is why the Empire is going to win: they cut to the main objective and accept the necessary collateral damage. They don't spread themselves thin while hoping for the best.

"You'll let me know when the time Baras could expect you to be on Dromund Kaas elapses, will you not?"

"If he hasn't figured it out before then, I certainly shall. Given your abilities, I doubt he'll remain ignorant for long."

Her Lordship chuckled. "If he calls, you'll put him through for me?"

"Certainly." The Captain didn't sound happy, but grimly satisfied… almost vindictive. Well, the Captain's a proud man and Baras not only traded a short leash for a long one (under the guise of magnanimity), he also tried to force the Captain to follow a path not of his choosing and, to add insult to injury, to turn on his own fiancée (not that Baras knew about that rather serious decision).

I glanced sidelong at Her Lordship. It's none of my business… but I worry for them. And I worry about Baras giving way to a fit of pique and strangling the Captain from halfway across the galaxy when he realizes the Captain is not actually his creature. Maybe he'll be smart and not give Her Lordship another reason to take him apart by inches.

We hadn't finished crossing the lobby—a comfortable one that seemed to belong to a department store of some kind—when a droid stepped out of one of the staircases leading to the next level (and eventually, to the roof). It stopped and I scowled: my power doesn't work on droids. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"Sith. Identify yourself," the droid commanded, leveling its rifle at Her Lordship.

I hadn't expected a droid assassin, but there was no way this was a domestic machine. It wasn't an HK (hunter-killer) model, but it was certainly not designed with peaceable interactions in mind.

"I'm the one sending you to the scrap heap," Her Lordship declared.

I raised a hand as the droid opened fire on her, lighting arcing out of my fingers, through the air, and into the metal body. Most droids are constructed so that they aren't as conductive as a metal creation should be. However, overloading delicate circuits and melting wires still works, it just takes a little more effort. It surprised me how easily the lighting came, how effortlessly I increased the amount of voltage running through the droid which began to spasm after several seconds, jerking and twitching before collapsing in a heap.

"Very efficient," Her Lordship approved, stalking over to the droid's husk to take out its memory core—memory cores are always the most seriously protected part of a droid. "And elegantly done."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Quinn," Her Lordship pulled him up on holo before synching the memory core to it. "I found this droid—is there anything in its memory core to verify that this was what I was looking for?"

"Data stream received," the Captain answered, his head bent down as he studied the readouts on his end. "Confirmed. And no sign of any information indicating you were listed as a secondary or tertiary target."

Meaning that Baras didn't feel the need to take precautions.

"See what faith he has in you?" Her Lordship purred.

The Captain did not answer, possibly a remaining shred of decorum paid towards someone he once owed something to.

"Where am I headed now?"

"Into the fray, I'm afraid. The best line of travel takes you right through the Imperial retreat—it's become an actual retreat," he ended disgustedly.

"Nothing like a little public relations stunt. Are you game, Jaesa?"

"I was beginning to worry I wouldn't be sufficiently warmed up by the time we started finding Baras' flunkies in earnest," I answered primly, adjusting the fall of my robes—a needless gesture, a theatrical gesture.

"Very good," Her Lordship nodded. "Let's go put a little heart back in our troops."

I let her go first, following her brisk pace. If anyone can put the heart back into the troops it's her. She doesn't need to scare them witless to get them to push back.

Corellia, Part II

The Captain actually diverted us halfway to the second most likely landing pad because the fourth-most-likely just experienced a flyby of an unregistered ship. Well, he said it was unregistered; the silhouette was that of a Republic stealth ship, so clearly he had Imperial air traffic control information tapped somehow.

We made such good time (or the assassin was just that slow to disembark) that we met him on the rooftop. He stopped and blinked at us.

Her Lordship cocked her head. The only reason she hadn't sailed into him the instant she had a line of attack on her target was because she was thinking. I knew she was thinking, through having studied her and her methodology, that it might be better to take him alive and hand him over to whatever stood in place of Imperial Intelligence. Even if he had nothing useful about Baras (I doubted he'd ever heard of the man even if he was doing Baras' dirty work), he might know other things. Useful things.

And with a Republic stealth ship, the possibility existed that he was SIS—especially if he had orders to kill a member of the Dark Council.

"Wow. So much for secret landings on secret landing pads," he observed, running a hand through his hair.

After months and months of hearing nothing but Imperial accents—and I'd begun to think I'd started picking one up myself—his words sounded odd, the 'r' in every word grinding, sounds coming from farther back in his throat than the way Her Lordship or the Captain would utter them. It was an accent that made the words seem oddly heavy.

I 'pinged' the man, then nodded. "That's him, my lord. He wants the Darth."

The man actually looked surprised to be called out in such a fashion, but he covered it as Her Lordship spoke.

"It appears this will be your secret graveyard." Her Lordship answered simply, indicating the area with an unignited lightsaber. It was one of her quirks, using the thing like a pointer or baton. The movements were always elegant, always graceful. They'd have seemed artificial if someone else did them, I think.

"That's hilarious. You're not billed as having a sense of humor." He said it to unnerve Her Lordship, or see if it unnerved her. It was a gross underestimation, either way.

"You get a Sith without a sense of humor and you'll find a k'lor'slug in a black robe."

Translation: something loathsome, violent, and temperamental with no redeeming qualities.

"Yeah, I get that. Goes for Jedi, too. You know, you're supposed to be dead. Baras thought so when I asked if I needed to watch out for you before I shuttled down. Make arrangements. That kind of thing."

…wow. Baras really does have moles in the Republic—the SIS, since that's what this fellow is. It's weird to think of a spy being corrupt. I mean… ugh. I underestimated Baras.

"I imagine by now he's tapped into the conversation?" Her Lordship asked.

"Let's see," the agent shrugged affably, reaching into his jacket and producing a holocom. "Someone wants to say hello, m'lord."

Baras' image twinkled into being.

"Surprise," Her Lordship beamed.

Baras remained still, but I had the impression it was because he had to work to control his rage. Now he knew. He knew it all.

"At a loss for words? My, my, that's a first."

"I'm not at a loss for words," Baras answered smoothly. "I'm simply deciding whether I ought to bother reaching out to you."

"Enmity is no excuse for lack of courtesy," Her Lordship said sententiously (and in no way referring to herself). "I know how much you like to hear yourself talk."

I kept my eyes fixed on the SIS agent, who divided his attention equally between Her Lordship and me. His hand strayed slowly towards the detonators—I couldn't tell if they were sonic, thermal, or what—clipped on his belt.

"Clearly your actions are those of ignorance. As wronged by me as you might feel, even you wouldn't intentionally defy the Emperor."

"Now that is rather rude," Her Lordship sliced into him. "And very hypocritical."

"You are being deceived."

"So says the master deceiver."

"The organization directing you is not the Emperor's Hand."

Her Lordship grinned. "No one has mentioned who I was working for. An interesting conclusion to simply jump to, reclusive entities that they are."

There was the briefest hitch before Baras continued. That hitch might as well have been an actual acceptance of a misstep. "You are a puppet of a sect the Emperor cast off. They seek his destruction."

"I might have a hint of concern if I hadn't met the previous Voice of the Emperor on Voss," Her Lordship said silkily. "There was no mistaking him. He sends his regards."

Baras was silent. Apparently he hadn't gotten word about that, yet. "I will tear down everything you've ever touched," Baras said softly.

I scowled, then looked at him. My breath caught and I found myself squinting—using my gift via holo isn't the same as using it face-to-face.

He was dark, convoluted, organized and clever. But through all this, which was daunting and painted him as a much more tenacious enemy than I gave him credit for being, I perceived the truth, that one little secret that would unlock him.

I started to laugh, the sound interrupting Her Lordship. The snicker became a giggle, the giggle a laugh, the laugh a positive howl of mirth. The SIS agent actually started to look discomforted, hand straying away from the detonators.

"Jaesa, you are not a hyena," Her Lordship reprimanded gently, but indulgently. "Do share with the rest of the class."

"I'm so sorry, my lord. It's just… it's just that Baras…" I dissolved into giggles again the inched towards her, casting Baras a nasty look. Rising onto tiptoe I leaned towards her ear, putting up a hand to cover the motion of my mouth… and for dramatic effect. "He's strong in the Force, his potential is quite impressive… but that's just his potential. His ability to actually draw on the Force is like draining a bathtub with a kitchen funnel. He can't use everything available or with any real efficiency. It's why he needs so many tools, why he's such a puppet master." I stepped away, addressing the assembly as a whole. "Without his tools he's a pile of plastiglass and cheap silver paint, covered in high-intensity lights, presenting the illusion of being a souped-up high-end speeder, all the while praying desperately that no one will see through the subterfuge."

Dead silence.

"How am I doing, my lord?" I asked Baras softly.

The image blinked out.

"Damn," the SIS agent declared, sounding genuinely impressed. "Never heard the old man shut down before—especially not by some slip of a girl. You've got a mouth on you, no mistake."

"Be very careful what you say next," I answered softly, "it may end in you losing your tongue before I kill you."

He laughed at this, waving negligently. "Little girl aren't my style. Still, gotta say…" he looked Her Lordship up and down. "Been an admirer of your work. Everything from basic foot soldiers to Imperial Moffs, super-Sith to Jedi masters. Good, good stuff."

"I can't actually take credit for the Moff," Her Lordship responded blandly.

"Still good stuff," the agent answered.

"Too bad you'll never see my memoirs."

"Yeah. Bet the really good stuff's not public knowledge." He looked her up and down. "Got a couple ideas on how to take you down. Be interesting to see which one of them works.

"Jaesa, step back, would you? You're drawing first blood all over the place today. I might get complacent at this rate."

I obediently backed away, placing myself before the only door leading off the roof as I preened myself over the compliment. It was true… if by saying 'blood' she includes 'droid fluids.' I certainly tore a big old chunk off of Baras, telling his most dangerous adversary his deepest, darkest secret.

The fight was short, to the point of being comical and making me wonder why Baras wasn't treating this more seriously. Or maybe Her Lordship really was that much better than the flunky.

Regardless, Her Lordship let him have a few seconds to feel like he might just have her figured… then she moved a hand and slammed him repeatedly into the side of the building. It was hilarious, if macabre. After all, most people think she's not particularly adept with that kind of tactic.

"Messy," I noted when she walked over to the edge of the roof, glanced at the body, then pitched it over the side, watching it fall and spatter on the pavement below.

"He was annoying. And presumptuous." She can be touchy about people claiming to know her when they'd never said two words to her (even then, two words don't really count). This fellow had two reasons for inspiring said touchiness: he was Baras' stooge (and knew it), but he was also from the Republic (stooge or not).

"He certainly was." She looked away from the ruined corpse, a tiny blot far below us, her orange eyes taking me in. "You've been exceeding my expectations today. I'm impressed."

A flush of pride made my face feel hot, and a swelling sensation filled my chest. "Thank you, my lord."

"Come. Lucky number three." With that, she pulled out her holocom. "Quinn, Baras knows. If he calls the ship, let him talk to the answering machine."

It wouldn't do for Baras to choke him out or something equally horrible. Baras threatened everything Her Lordship ever touched; that puts the Captain at the top of the list of things to tear down.

An unwise threat, on the whole.

"Already? You're working at a good clip today."

Her Lordship gave him a wicked, burning look. "I always operate at peak efficiency."

I felt myself blushing. Originally it was pleasure at actually exceeding expectation. This time… well. Sith rely on strong emotions as a power source and passion is definitely near the top of the list. Since it requires two to tango (as the Alderaanians say) he's now an integral part of helping her keep fighting fit.

I tried desperately not to notice if there were complimentary tones in that remark. I like the Captain, but I really don't want to think about him that way.

"I'm pleased to hear it," came the innocent response.

I stifled a groan. Only those two could bring that kind of tension to a time and place like this.

"Lord Khellin has arrived in-system. I've arranged a place for him and his men to touch down. They are awaiting further orders."

"Excellent. Any news on the third assassin?"

"None as yet, but two of the landing strips—one you've visited and one you haven't—have been compromised by the fighting. As it stands, I'm still trying to find a lead for you."He sounded almost fretful, then anticipated her next question. "The Hand has not been in contact about Darth Vowrawn's base of operations."

Her Lordship sighed heavily, pursing her lips. "So we're what? Wandering around the city?"

"I'm afraid so, my lord. Unless you would prefer me to direct you to the temporary headquarters Imperial Armed Forces has established. Or one of the forward operating bases. If there's no point in keeping a low profile, there's no point in trying."

Her Lordship sighed again. "Put me on with the man in charge of this offensive. I shall want a report on the current conditions."

Meaning she needs to keep her schedule fluid in order to accommodate her objectives—however muddied and currently impossible they are—but doesn't want to waste time with unnecessary travel. Better to let her know where hotspots are and let her have her way with them.

Corellia, Part III

"Jaesa? Jaesa, come back," Her Lordship called quietly.

I blinked, shaking myself out of meditation. It was almost dawn, if the chill-wet-nasty quality of the air was any indication, and there was still no sign of Darth Vowrawn or the missing assassin. The FOB at which we'd come to rest after midnight last night continued in its bustle of activity. The sounds of battle raging through the Corellian megalopolis had been so upsetting to my nerves I'd hidden in meditation, hoping to rest since actually sleeping wasn't an option.

I'd tried to find Baras' men, and come up with several impressions, but… but there was a blank spot that worried me. Like something knew I was looking for it and even as it let me know it was there—or couldn't keep me from knowing—it blanked itself out so I wouldn't know what it was.

Or who. I'd chased it for the better part of the night, trying to pin it down but had nothing to show for the pains I'd taken.

"Jaesa."

I opened my eyes then forced myself to my feet, yawning widely.

"The Hand found Darth Vowrawn. Servant Eleven says if she could find him, the missing assassin can."

I was fully awake and alert at these words, following her hurriedly as we headed for our speeder. "Where is he?" I asked, once we were underway.

"In Republic territory—apparently he's operating right under their noses."

"The last place anyone would think to look," I agreed.

"The Hand thinks he'll be difficult to talk around, so no lethal force. Or, rather, as little as possible."

"Well, you were Baras' apprentice and he's a conniving creep." I was tired and more than a little fussy. It felt good to snarl about something. "A suspicious mind might think the schism between you is just for show." Like with her father.

"You grasp the likely interpretation Darth Vowrawn entertains."

"Any word on the assassin?"

"None. If we didn't catch him at his landing pad—whatever that turned out to be—we won't catch him without using Darth Vowrawn as bait."

"…my lord? Is it possible that this assassin might be watching us to see where we go? Let us do the looking and the hard work for him? Like a snowplow?"

"You're in top form this morning," Her Lordship approved. "I wonder if recent assignments and objectives have been neglecting some bent in your talents."

"You never know unless you try," I yawned widely. Somewhere, not close but too close for my tastes, a shell exploded. This time, I didn't flinch. I doubt I'll learn to sleep through the explosions, though. "You should know, I sensed someone from Baras. I don't know anything more—they knew I was looking for them and hid themselves well."

"He's probably got his new favored apprentice down here to keep a handle on things," Her Lordship answered. "Killing Vowrawn is too important to leave unattended."

And if these assassins fail, as two of the three have, Baras might have to be a little less circumspect in getting Vowrawn assassinated. That means using someone directly attached to him to make it happen and then killing all witnesses. Especially now that he knows Her Lordship is present.

"Have you ever been to Corellia?" Her Lordship asked abruptly.

"Once or twice. I loved the food. The best of it is greasy, unhealthy, and fantastic. Too bad we're here in the middle of a war. I can't imagine any restaurants being open." I remember battered fish and fried potatoes; those strips of fried something covered in cinnamon, sugar, and drizzled in caramel and little candied pecans; and fried batter with powdered sugar dusted on it…

…I'm making myself hungry. Moreover, you don't eat that sort of thing in the field, especially if you're not used to the grease. It messes with your insides. That's a distraction one doesn't need and can't afford.

"You never know. Soldiers have to eat, why not open up once the general area settles?"

It would take a very pragmatic businessman. "All the same, I wouldn't recommend a big meal while we're working. Afterward though, if there's time… that would be lovely." Even if there isn't surely we can find time for takeout?

Corellia, Part IV

Darth Vowrawn elected to hole up in a corporate building in the district called Incorporation Island. This area was fairly stable with regards to fighting, as well as being quite affluent; it meant that Her Lordship allowed me to practice the art of moving stealthily and doing so with a partner. Fighting our way through wasn't a problem in and of itself; the time it would take—both to get where we needed to be and to chase down Darth Vowrawn if he escaped, put to flight by the commotion we'd make—was.

The tower Darth Vowrawn picked out was imposing, massive, and probably had ninety ways for him to get out of it in a hurry.

We went in the front door to find the lobby full of Republic-looking Imperials. Their clothes were right, but something in their postures didn't say 'Republic.'

Her Lordship cocked her head as they scrambled to form a defensive line. None of them was Force sensitive. All of them looked like some monster out of legend had just walked in on them.

"S-Sith," one of the men spoke up. "Are you lost?" The heavy, grinding, spoken in the back of the mouth accent was even more disturbing because it was so obviously assumed and not by someone gifted with affectation. "You're in a Republic—"

"Your accent is poking through," Her Lordship announced, with all the aplomb of a brick through a window.

"Well, never-mind-that," the Imperial tried again, only succeeding in coming off more poorly artificial than before. "A Sith comes in here, he's gonna meet resis—"

"You're grating on my nerves. Don't spoil my sunny disposition." She caught my eye and tipped her chin at the Imperials.

No lethal force. I remember.

"Sorry, just can't do that—" the Imperial choked as Her Lordship raised a hand.

I deflected several blaster bolts, all of them ricocheting to strike in non-lethal places (somewhat to my surprise). Her Lordship, with her usual tactic, leapt into the midst of the soldiers after flinging their leader into their ranks. Her lightsaber left ugly burns, but no one lost any limbs.

She rolled her shoulders as she stepped over moaning, shuddering heaps. "Just lie there and twitch," she declared as she found the stairs leading up and began to ascend them.

"Don't be stupid," I warned as I followed her. It was clear, though, that she'd inflicted enough damage to keep them from doing something stupid, like trying to follow us. "They're truly loyal to the Darth, you know," I noted.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. Not to the point of being suicidal, but they definitely would have made you kill them all." And, since we're all on the same side (even if they don't appreciate that) it would be a waste of resources.

"What does that tell you?"

"He knows how to leverage loyalty and he's open-minded, to some extent, about the usefulness of non-Sensitives."

"That was my impression. You might as well know, his reputation portrays him as something of a genial fop. Don't let it fool you: one doesn't sit on the Dark Council for very long unless one can hold onto one's place."

The warning wasn't necessary—I'd never take a fellow Sith at face value—but I appreciated it nonetheless. It wouldn't do to embarrass Her Lordship in any way I could prevent. Especially when she's got to make certain impressions, as well as good ones.

Corellia, Part V

Her Lordship stopped, frowning at the door. The building's stairwell system involved several flights up, then crossed a lobby-room to get to the next set of flights, back and forth. It wasn't a particularly efficient system, so I put it down to a security reason: no sneaking all the way up the building unobserved (as if anyone would ever want to—stars, it was tall when you had to take the stairs!).

The second or third time we came to a switch—I lost count, trying to ignore the ache in my legs and lungs—a presence waited for us just beyond the door. Malevolent and brooding, I wasn't sure nonlethal force would be an option. The entity on the other side was angry, disgusted, resentful. Not afraid, but certainly keyed-up.

And strong. Not as strong as Her Lordship, but there was only one way out of this stairwell and that meant we'd be funneled right into whatever the Sith decided to throw at us.

Her Lordship ignited a lightsaber, then nodded to the door. "Open it for me."

I moved to do so. At her second nod, I wrenched the door open and she passed through uninhibited to meet an arcing net of purple lighting with her lightsaber. After a few moments, she threw it off. When I finally got past the heavy door, I found her and a Zabrak Sith regarding one another. He certainly looked kill-ready, disinclined to listen to anything Her Lordship had to say.

Her Lordship pointed with her lightsaber. "Save us a great deal of trouble. Get your master down here, now."

The Zabrak flicked his eyes at me, then back to her and shook his head. "Don't worry. He'll come soon enough. He'll want to survey your corpse."

"We're fighting the same war, so I'll be sporting," Her Lordship said darkly. "Killing your master is exceedingly low on my list of priorities."

"Waste your breath as you like. Baras is not as subtle as he thinks, and you have been seen through," the Zabrak responded. There was something almost… mushy… in the way he spoke. Trying to pick out emotional cues from his tone alone was like… wading through quicksand.

I pivoted, just fast enough to catch the blow that would have sheared my head from my body. It all happened before I consciously recognized that I'd felt a ripple in the Force warning me of danger. Recognition and reaction had come so quickly, like instinct or as though preprogrammed. "Surprise." The word was out of my mouth before I knew I was going to say it.

The human Sith disengaged from the blocked blow only to have me push forward, forcing her back. It was clear that whatever skill she had, it was halved or more if she didn't have the element of surprise. Meanwhile, I'd been training religiously with one of the best hands with the lightsaber in the Empire—or so I felt. I actually finished my fight before Her Lordship finished hers… though this wasn't really proof of ability on my part.

I was learning to be sneaky and stealthy; unlike my opponent though, I didn't rely on it as a core tactic.