Clash of the Titans

"Fighting is simple. Kill the guy aiming at you."

13 BBY – Onderon

"You said coil gun?" Wraith asked, lifting the hefty electromagnetic weapon before the open clearing. Trilla watched from the side as Saw explained, showing Wraith how to position himself. Its grip was more like a repeating minigun, but she'd never seen a weapon of this make before. It looked heavy and Saw had trouble just handing it to the super soldier.

"Imperium says it's a type of coil gun. This make is apparently called a 'gauss cannon'," Saw corrected, instinctually taking a step back towards Ahsoka. "Apparently it has an immense kickback that an average human can't manage, which is the only reason I'm letting you take the reins on this one."

"I see," Wraith mused, taking a look at the rotating conductor at the center of it, before it gave way to the long barrel that was already sparking as it built up energy. "So unlike what the Empire is used to, this is a projectile weapon…which isn't something the Empire has any protection against…" he slowly looked to Trilla for confirmation, and to her slight annoyance, as did everyone else.

What people seem to forget is that Trilla had been out for almost a year now, so she was down to guesswork at best. She had no idea what kind of tech the Empire was conjuring up, and she didn't even know much when she was working for them. It's not like they let every operative in on what was taking place behind closed doors.

All she granted them was a shrug. "Not that I'm aware of."

"What we are aware of, is that it can punch through an AT-ST hull like piss through snow," Saw explained, and then pointed down their makeshift firing range to the blasted head of an AT-ST. "If you will…let's see if you can handle it."

Trilla felt a natural instinct to take a step back, as did everyone else, but she planted her feet where she stood. For whatever reason, she felt it necessary to display her foolhardy disregard for the fear of her life, which did much to inspire others to follow. That felt prudent in this situation, strange as the thought was.

Wraith shored up his shoulders, doing his best to aim the weapon in a proper fashion, despite its slightly cumbersome design. Once he seemed to be sure of his aim, he squeezed the trigger.

The firing sound was best compared to an extremely loud spitting noise, followed by an electrical discharge out the front of the barrel as it kicked back. Out came a nearly blinding light that ripped through the air, tearing through the hull just as Saw promised, and when they could all see again, the damage that had been done was more than any heavy rocket had ever ravaged…and certainly much less dramatic. No fire; almost no trace…just horrific structural damage.

Trilla watched Wraith shake off the blast, looking stunned for the first time she had ever witnessed. She herself had not moved, merely maintaining her cross-armed stance as she watched. The same could not be said for Ahsoka, who was still taking steps back.

"Impressive," Trilla remarked. "I'm not sure what could survive being hit by such a blast."

Ahsoka finally stepped forward. "Are you alright?" she asked Wraith, trying to hide any over-concern, but wasn't as successful this time around.

"Sithspit…this damn thing kicks," Wraith groaned, but reassured his stance. "But I like it. About time someone gave me a big gun."

Once again, Trilla felt her neck tingle, and her gaze shifted towards the edge of the camp, her fingers twitching for her hilt. This had been the worst pulse yet, and it was making her far too uneasy to continue standing and watching.

It was time to do what she did best.

Sliding over her helmet and allowing it to seal, Trilla took her leave, only to be stopped by Ahsoka's voice. "Uh…where are you going?"

Trilla only graced her with the side of her violet gaze. "I think I fancy a walk."


Nerah had been trained to deal with unpleasant conditions here and there, but with her young upbringing, they had focused more on weapons, tactical movement and martial arts. She was nearly a master at all three by now, but she was beginning to wish she had spent more time acclimating to climates that were less like her own home planet of Csilla, which was known for its frigid weather, snow and cold.

Onderon wasn't any of those things.

Her helmet had built-in climate control, so as to prevent sweat from ever covering her eyes, but the same could not be said for the rest of her suit, which was only becoming more of a heater the more ground she covered. Tropics were something she never had enjoyed any time she had been assigned to a planet with such a climate, and that belief was only being reinforced the more sweat that built up beneath her suit.

Not to mention the bugs. Csilla had very little insect life because of its cold climate, so the constant buzzing and flybys of her HUD infuriated her the longer they persisted. Still, her focus remained, and she stubbornly persisted through the mud and grime that stood between her and the rebel encampment ahead.

Mission parameters were simple, for once, as she had been merely directed to press ahead and kill anyone that wasn't an Imperial. She had also been told that civilian casualties were not to be worried about…but Nerah had never taken pride in gunning down the helpless…that was unless the fate of the mission hung in the balance. That thought had only reminded her of a less than pleasant memory…so she set it aside for now.

Heat signatures came up on her HUD, and Nerah deftly slid behind a patch of brush that hid her from view, whilst also deactivating the red glow of her visor. It seemed to be two men pacing on a patrol sweep, blasters over their chests. Tuning into her eavesdropping devices, she listened in on their conversation.

It played out via her internal speakers, translated from Basic into Cheunh, "…the boss say why we have to increase patrols? The Empire is locked up in Iziz."

"Not sure," the other answered. "Something about that Jedi that showed up. Apparently she can sense someone is out here prowling us."

Nerah's throat ran dry.

"Are you sure? That Jedi used to be an Imperial…I'm not so sure we can trust her."

The other shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah, you say that now, but I was planning on hitting some of that—" she cut the feed, shoring herself up.

After one damn mission, the Empire had already dropped the ball on secrecy, not to mention intel. Nothing ever listed that a Jedi would be present, and while Nerah had only heard the stories, she wasn't sure which parts about them were true. Judging by the fact that they already knew she was here, the future-seeing clairvoyance abilities seemed to have themselves checked off the list.

She considered recommending a strategic retreat, but then knew that Thrawn would never accept such a thing, not when they hadn't even tested their defenses and resolve.

Besides…that would be embarrassing for her first mission, and she was not in the mood for a lecture when she returned. Her trigger finger was itching anyhow, and while she was directed to keep quiet…a little noise in the wrong place could work wonders for initiating distraction.

Engaging her silencer mod, she crept forward through the brush, keeping her steps light while also avoiding any twigs underfoot. Once she came close enough, she scooped up a rock with one hand and hurled it directly at a tree to their opposite side, and the loud tap drew their attention away.

"The hell…?" one questioned, his blaster raised, while his partner laughed.

"You're skittish as hell. Sit tight, man!"

That's when Nerah slid out from her hiding place and fired two precise shots that ripped through their heads, unable to even emit a scream in pain before they both flopped onto the dirt. Moving quickly, she dragged their bodies into the brush with her unnatural strength, and then proceeded to press forward…bearing towards the camp with a silent and precise ferocity.


"Have you seen the new Z-6 model?"

The white-armored stormtrooper companion shook his head as he stepped over the Onderon brush, avoiding the mud as best he could. "Are you kidding? As soon as I get my next pay raise I'm buying that damn thing."

"As soon as? You mean if," the other corrected.

"Cut the chatter back there," the orange shoulder ordered, leading his squad through the jungle with his blaster primed. "This place is crawling with hostiles and you're talking about speeders?"

"Sorry, sir…"

"You're damn right you are."

There was a shift in the nearby wind flow, and a few troopers raised their blasters in various directions, brought fully alert.

The commander waved his hand forward. "Press forward. I thought I heard something," he directed, stepping forward. The rest of his squad followed, some on edge, and others not so much.

A slight gasp sounded, followed by another rush of wind, and when the commander whirled around…he was short one man.

Now everyone was on edge.

"The hell…where'd Jenkins go?" one questioned.

"Quiet!" the commander shouted, keeping his blaster trained on the surrounding bushes. "Keep an eye out for movement."

"Gah!" another shouted, but he was gone just as quickly as his shout began.

"Ho-…shit!"

"Uhhhh I don't wanna die here!"

"What the fuck is going on?!"

"Shut the fuck up!" the commander shouted again, only to turn and see that he was the only one remaining. Fear ravaged him as he probed the area, sweat dripping into his eyes as the last man standing…and the anticipation that he would be next resulting in trembling and unending terror.

Shivering, he shouted. "I…I know you're out there! Show yourself!"

Nothing…just the sounds of animals and the sputtering of insects.

"Boo."

The commander jumped, whipping his blaster around only to be caught in a harsh, steel grip, his neck squeezed to prevent any airflow as his feet left the ground. Through his eyes he saw a violet slit…and someone dressed in an all-consuming black outfit.

Trilla's finger was placed over where her mouth would be, and she leaned in. "Shhhh," she hushed, carrying him over to a secluded area…the place where the rest of his dead squad had been taken. "If you scream…I will snap your neck…but not before I break each of your fingers individually."

He could say nothing, not until she dropped him at her feet. As his breaths returned, he gasped, looking up to Trilla's tall frame as she knelt before him. "What does the Empire want with Onderon?" she asked in a low tone, altered even deeper through her helmet.

"I-I don't know," the commander stammered.

Trilla's prosthetic fist crushed his fingers beneath its power, and he yelped in intense pain. "I'm going to need you to think harder."

"An example!" he shouted, grasping his wrist. "And they're…ah…testing a new method!"

"Method?" Trilla queried. "Explain."

"I don't know, I swear!" he promised. "They wouldn't tell us! Something about a girl…an alien."

Alien…hmmm.

"Who is in charge of this assault?"

"A-another alien…his name is Thrawn," he revealed. "Look…just please let me go. I've got kids…two daughters. I won't say anything…I swear."

Trilla's fist clenched as he broke off from her questioning, but his speech of his children made her pause. Despite knowing the most efficient course of action was to end this man's life and be done with it, she couldn't…not if she knew she'd be parting two young girls with their father.

The Empire tortured me for months…why should I care?!

Then she remembered Katara…and the pain she would feel if she had ever lost her father, not to mention the unspeakable agony Trilla would have to swim through.

The Empire may have tortured her…but this man hadn't, and while he may be lying, she couldn't take that chance.

With a frustrated huff, Trilla rose to her feet. "Go…but if I ever spot you wearing this uniform again, I will not hesitate to end your life."

He looked up. "Really?"

"Go!" she nigh bellowed, and he scrambled to his feet, scampering off while holding his injured hand. If he were smart, he'd play as if he were injured, not deserting, otherwise the Empire would execute him anyway.

She let it be. It was time to report her findings…and find this alien girl.


"The entire squad?" Markov echoed, cocking her head for clarification, just as the scouts returned, their armor sullied with mud. "Gone?"

"That's right, Agent," he nodded, shivering slightly. "We found one, alive…he was hurt, but he's being treated. He said he saw someone dark…menacing."

The Fourth Sister shifted in her cross-armed stance, but Markov ignored it for now. "Dark and menacing? I've never known insurgents to adopt such qualities."

"It's her," the Inquisitor beside her blurted, her mask covering her face, and the purge troopers at her back shivered slightly.

"Who is her?" Markov asked, unsure as to why the alarm had come up.

The Inquisitor faced the ISB agent directly, loosening her arms to fall upon her hips. "The Second Sister."

Second Sister? But she's…

All everyday Imperial troopers, and even most special forces, had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Markov had rarely worked with Inquisitors, and of those, the Second Sister was the one she had worked with by far the most…which wasn't saying much. That woman was the most heartless and utterly diabolical human being she had ever met, and to think she would betray the Empire wasn't entirely out of the question, but Inquisitors weren't known for defecting…in fact any who had tried wound up disappearing without a trace. After the destruction of Fortress Inquisitorious…there were only a sporadic few left around the galaxy.

But even with all that…why would she be here? Onderon was so deep in Imperial territory that it could do little to bolster a hidden movement of insurgency, but the current hotbed could influence other worlds to get ideas as well.

In fact, the more she considered it, the more she realized that Onderon was perhaps a planet in which the galaxy was now watching…waiting to see if the Empire could adjust to a devastating blow.

"And…what makes you think she is here?" Markov raised her brow.

Fourth Sister shrugged. "I can feel it."

"Right," Markov suppressed an eye roll, turning to her commander. "What are our options for heavy armor?"

He didn't look so optimistic, even with his helmet over his face. "Limited, sir. AT-STs are sitting ducks in this thick brush, and an AT-AT is too big for this uneven terrain. Armored troop carriers are perhaps the best we have."

Markov scoffed. "What, no tanks?"

"No sir," he shook his head. "The insurgents ransacked them all days ago."

She scowled to herself. "Very well. Bring the transports," she directed, and the commander began to give the order while Markov turned to the Inquisitor. "And you…use your senses to hunt your quarry."

The Fourth Sister only gave her a nod, and then flicked her head for her purge unit to follow in her wake.

"The rest of you, on me!" she directed, drawing her dual pistols as she stepped into the brush, the Imperial platoon at her back. "Into the jungle."

And hope Nerah is having better luck than we are.


Trilla marched back into the camp, drawing stunned eyes from some of the insurgent soldiers as she passed in her full getup, pacing directly to where she had left Ahsoka, Wraith and Saw. In this go, she was two for three, as Wraith and Ahsoka were still by the firing range conversing…only this time with a new face joining them.

And it didn't look so friendly.

"I am merely trying to assist your efforts as a favor to Saw…I have no personal stake here," a slick, shaven and attractive man around her age spoke in a more core-centered accent, his attire much less ragged than those around the camp. "And I just meant to regard Ahsoka before I took my leave."

Wraith grumbled; his arms crossed tightly. "I don't know what game you're trying to play Bonteri, but you're always conveniently playing both sides too much for my taste."

Ahsoka pinched the bridge of her nose. "Will you two just…" she trailed off once she noticed Trilla approaching. "That was quick."

Trilla chuckled to herself slightly. "I see I have returned to more troubled times than I had left them."

The new face regarded her with slight caution, pulling his hand back. "I'm sorry…and you are?"

"Not someone that will fall prey to such a feeble concealment of a blaster," Trilla motioned towards his fist, and he pulled away quickly.

Ahsoka groaned. "Right…Lux, this is Trilla. Trilla, Lux."

She knew that name…Lux Bonteri, but she could not place where for the life of her, and she was more concerned with the man walking by with drinks in hand. With a wave, he noticed, and without hesitation tossed her one, while saying "Fuck the Empire!"

Trilla snorted, which came out much louder behind her helmet. "Cheers to that," popping the cap off the bottle with the edge of her gauntlet. With her free hand, she released her helmet and set it aside, taking a hefty drink and letting out a refreshing huff. All eyes were on her, Lux especially, and she could only shrug. "What? Did you expect a terrifying face behind this mask?" she let her elbow tap it in regard.

Lux looked away and sniffed, leaving Trilla to only silently giggle to herself. The awkwardness was so thick she felt as if she was wading through it, and it was about time she had to chance to witness it instead of being a part of it. "Do continue," she waved on.

"We just finished," Wraith half-growled, sliding his helmet over his head and lifting the hefty gauss cannon, taking his leave. "Ahsoka."

The togruta looked flushed, and that was when Lux took the hint, slowly scrambling off to his other duties around camp. Trilla, however, was not so cruel, and found herself gravitating towards Ahsoka in a slow walk until her higher eyelevel looked slightly down to her.

"Men…" she began. "They are infuriating, stupid, and most of the time detrimental to us…and yet here we are, constantly chasing after them."

Ahsoka snorted with slight amusement. "How did you ever find success with that kind of mentality?"

Trilla shrugged, twisting the bottle in her grip. "I happened to find one that at least isn't stupid…most of the time anyway. Infuriating…always…but not detrimental to me…" she found her eyes looking away, glossing over as her tumultuous journey replayed before her eyes. "…not in the slightest."

The togruta sighed, crossing her arms. "I don't get it."

The former inquisitor took another drink, letting the slight buzz set in. "I can tell you exactly why you and he are the way you are."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, listening in.

"Men will never admit it, and I told a friend of mine this, who, as you can note, is now happily with the Jedi I tried to kill once…or four times…" she trailed off, and then realized her tangent was pointless. "Anyhow, men want two things: safety and security. You, my dear, give Wraith neither of those things."

She listened in, cocking her brow. "What's this about this Jedi you tried to kill?"

Trilla deadpanned. "Are you going to heed my advice or not?"

"Right…sorry," Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "Do continue."

She focused herself, filtering the intoxication for a moment. "You give that bloody man more stress than anything else. He's spent most of this time thinking he'll never see you again when you depart. That's no way to build a relationship. There's no security."

"Back up," Ahsoka pointed. "You say security…which can also translate to safety, right?"

Trilla wasn't sure where she was headed now. "I suppose, yes."

She crossed her arms. "And you tried to kill Xur…how many times again?"

Trilla's emerald eyes paced upwards as her fingers tapped on the bottle, counting each time…even the ones in which he was the Second Brother. "Fourteen…I believe, but that's not counting the time I actually killed him."

Ahsoka leaned back.

"I brought him back," Trilla eased nonchalantly. "Hence why I cannot heal wounds any longer."

"You brought him back from the dead?" Ahsoka echoed for clarification.

Trilla let her brow slant downwards in slight frustration. "Would you like me to say it in Togruti?"

"That's a little bit racist."

"That isn't what I—" Trilla just stopped herself, deciding to take a more direct approach. "What I am trying to say is, you need to tell Wraith precisely what you want from him. No more of this beating around the bush game, otherwise you'll just drive each other mad."

"Right…because you're just so brilliant at remaining calm," Ahsoka's frustration spiked, which seemed to be a mixture of her current anxiety with the reveal of Trilla's less than ideal past. "I'll bet Xur felt extremely secure when you drove your blade straight through his heart."

Trilla's prosthetic hand clenched around her bottle. "You have not a clue what I went through."

"What about those other Jedi you cut down?" Ahsoka challenged. "Did they feel safe?"

"You weren't strapped to a chair and made to scream at anyone's leisure!" Trilla bellowed, and her hand crushed the bottle in a cascade of glass and alcohol onto the dirt, but her eyes never left Ahsoka's gaze. "If you insist to continue testing me, you will see just how damaged I am."

"I'm going to need you ladies to settle this another time," Saw's voice interrupted their stare down, and Trilla spotted him watching from a reasonable distance, his rifle over his chest. "We've got company."

"Just give us a moment," Ahsoka insisted, and her calmer tone confused Trilla somewhat, which seemed to win Saw over for the moment.

"Not too long," he pointed, and then began issuing commands, leaving them to finish their discussion.

"Do you want to know who my informant was inside the Fortress?" Ahsoka asked, keeping an intense stare that demanded Trilla's attention, despite her current rising anger. "Lieutenant Commander Davos Blaze."

Of course he was.

"And while I didn't know the Second Sister was you precisely, he told me everything," she revealed…and Trilla only slightly looked away. "Right up until you killed him."

"It was an accident," Trilla corrected.

"Was Xur's death an accident?"

Trilla could only imagine squeezing the life out of this meddling and bitchy togruta just for reminding her twice of the most traumatic moment of her life…but her words were hitting too close to home for her to retaliate. Those were the two things she regretted most when she was the Second Sister, and while she herself had moved on, it was too much to expect everyone else to simply write it off and forget.

Ahsoka least of all. While it was obvious she had Xur no longer had any romantic ties, Ahsoka still regarded him as a close friend, and it was only then that Trilla realized how adversely the news of his temporary death would affect her.

"I understand what the Empire did to you, more than you realize," Ahsoka eased, her expression calm and straight, and Trilla almost envied her ability to do so. "And I'm sorry…but that doesn't mean we can just write off the past like some kind of joke."

Trilla felt her lip tremble. "All of those people…all of those Jedi I killed…their faces will be seared within my mind for the rest of my life, and if you believe for a second that I don't blame myself every waking moment for those deaths…then you don't understand me. When Xur died…there is no greater pain you could ever experience when you kill someone you love, and I don't expect you to ever understand that, perfect as you are."

"I'm not saying I'm perfect—"

"Oh, but you are," Trilla denied. "You always hold yourself to such a standard of paragon perfection, and I grow tired of you constantly regarding me as if I'm some broken soul who needs your help.

"I am content with myself," Trilla backed away, calling her helmet into her hand as she turned. "I cannot say the same for you."


Nerah knew the battle first started once blasterfire began to sound off in the area she had left behind, but it didn't really resonate until she could feel collapsing trees shaking the ground with each time they fell. Based on what she could assume, the Empire had finally decided to bring in the heavy armor, and that would certainly make it easier for Nerah to slip past distracted guards.

Even if there were a lot of bodies in her wake.

She hadn't been detected yet, but she could tell that her presence was becoming suspected, as patrols were becoming larger and much better equipped…not like it made much of a difference. No man could possibly wrestle her grip from their neck or shoot nearly as well as she could, and despite all of those fights, her gloves were still spotless.

Always priding herself in bloodless combat, Nerah wasn't the "slayer" her super-solider predecessors had been, known for ripping apart whole armies in a blood-guzzling rage and fervor that painted them as horrific gods of death. While Nerah's kill counts would certainly be no lower, she saw no need to make anyone suffer needlessly. Whether it be the quick turn of the neck or a precise shot through the brain, she believed in efficiency, and bloodless combat was by far the quickest way to cut through entire legions.

And intimidation could be just as effective by merely having a victim watch his friend drop dead in the blink of an eye.

Creeping behind a tree, Nerah had finally reached the camp, and she held her carbine over her chest as she leaned in, probing the area for a clean look. It was not as populated now that most had headed into the jungle, and from her first look, all she spotted was a masked soldier carrying an unfamiliar device over his shoulder speaking to a horned alien she had never seen before.

Whoever they were…they seemed like more than common foot soldiers.

Removing her silencer mod from her carbine, Nerah twisted the weapon to still conceal herself behind the tree and lined up her shot.

Somehow, just before she pulled the trigger, the alien reacted. "Look out!" she shouted, and white blades of pure light blazed to life, swiping upwards and deflecting the perfect headshot she had let loose upon the unawares soldier.

"Fucking hell," she cursed under her breath in Cheunh, advancing with an onslaught of blasterfire that tested the alien's defenses. The soldier was quick, brandishing a blaster pistol and retaliating, and Nerah's quick reflexes had the bolts discharge off her shoulder pads. Switching targets, she fired again, this time at the soldier, making the alien work just as hard to protect him. Taking advantage of the alien's shift, she fired a precise shot that ripped into the alien's hand, and her gasp had her drop to one knee for a moment.

"Ahsoka!" the soldier cried.

She was not down for long, and quickly Nerah felt herself tumbling through the air after Ahsoka stretched out her hand, feeling as if she had been slammed into by a tree trunk. Her carbine knocked from her grip, Nerah flipped back to her feet, only to be tackled by the immense power of the targeted soldier, and oxygen was quickly cut from her lungs as he wrapped his strong arms around her neck.

"You'll die for that!" he growled.

Fighting through the strain, Nerah grasped ahold of each of his wrists and pulled. Slowly, but absolutely, she pulled his hands from her neck, instilling an undeniable amount of shock within him as her strength won out, and she took advantage of that to plant her foot on his chest and kick him off. Flipping to her feet, he swung again, but she merely caught his powerful swing with her forearm.

"What the hell…" he whispered.

Nerah herself was groaning slightly from the strain, and to say she wasn't stunned would be a lie. No one had ever matched her power or strength…and yet here this man was…holding her off.

Could he be…?

Her distraction proved costly as he grappled her arm and took her down roughly, and she felt her arm scream in pain as her tendons stretched and pulled. Letting out a hellish cry, Nerah wrapped her legs around his neck in a triangle choke, which freed her arm as he pushed her off, and her somersault flipped her back onto her feet.

Not before his helmet was removed from his head. Tumbling out, Nerah felt a distinct recognition…even if she had never seen his face before. She could tell by his facial structure, the muscles…the eyes.

"You…him," Nerah noticed in Basic, circling her opponent. "Wraith," she uttered his name.

"Yeah," Wraith nodded, catching his breath. "And who are you?"

"Not of your business," Nerah continued to circle, and then pointed to herself. "Me…new. You, old."

All she knew about the Wraith was that her serum was derived from his own, and her strength was supposedly greater than his, but as of now she wasn't noting any sort of vast improvement. If anything, they were equally balanced, and the Empire had never accounted for him being here…as well as this Jedi woman.

Which made her job all the more essential to an Imperial victory.

Ahsoka finally rose to her feet, shaking off the charred burn mark on the back of her hand and igniting her blades. Now the odds were supremely out of her favor…which would require her to be more crafty than usual.

Flipping her holdout blasters from her sleeves, she opened fire.


Trilla felt like a god.

It was so effortless…cutting through the squads of stormtroopers and even some special forces with such ease, her blade almost like a brush as she painted the night with the gold she knew so well. Screams filled her ears as lives were ended in an instant, cutting through upper bodies and torsos with precision that allowed for maximum efficiency, and she could feel the advancing insurgent troops follow in her wake.

Such a shame that the Empire truly regarded stormtroopers as expendable resources, as she only continued to expel them in droves as they continued to attempt to break through her unstoppable advance. She almost began to feel a sense of guilt…but replacing each of their faces with those that had tortured her made it all the easier to continue her rampage through the jungles of Onderon.

Then it finally got interesting.

Troop carriers rolled through, knocking down trees at their trunks as the forward cannons fired upon the advancing troopers. Trilla's blade spun in a fan of yellow as she protected herself, and with lightning speed she zig-zagged between each flurry of fire, dragging her blade through the cannon barrels and severing them useless. She almost chuckled as all her knowledge of Imperial systems came to bear, and with a flip atop the roof, she dashed across and dug her blade into a specific compartment of durasteel that should've been where the engine was located.

With a smirk behind her mask, she felt it buck and squeal, and when she backflipped to safety, the engine erupted in a ball of flame. Stormtroopers were cooked alive inside the compartment, and only a few were smart enough to bash open the doors and roll out, only to meet Trilla's ruthless decapitating blows as she waited for them.

Her advance had separated from the rest of the soldiers, and when she finished executing the rest, she heard the endless clicking of blasters emerging from the brush. White filled her vision as stormtroopers revealed themselves all around her, and she only held her blade at the ready.

"Inquisitor!" a familiar voice shouted, and when Trilla turned, she noticed the figure of Agent Elena Markov, a woman she had once worked with many years ago. Her expression was fierce, her skin covered in sap and dirt, but her blasters pointed true. "This is your one chance to lower your weapon peacefully."

Trilla only allowed herself to giggle, and it became a potent laugh as it persisted. "Peacefully? The last time I was offered such a proposal by the Empire…I was tortured into oblivion," she revealed, holding her blade at the ready, and some troopers seemed to be stunned by this. "If I were you, I would lower your weapons and return to Iziz, where we may begin more…audible negotiations."

The blasters only advanced further, as did Markov. "You're surrounded! Surely you can see that you cannot win!"

Trilla spat, tightening her grip on her hilt. "All I see are empty promises…and dead men."

Markov made the fatal mistake of opening her mouth one last time.

Trilla deactivated her hilt and spun rapidly, outstretching her hands to unleash a force push that impacted each trooper daring to point their blasters in her direction. White armored men screamed as they flew through the air, some merely landing roughly, and a few were impaled by splintered tree trunks or cast into burning fires. Markov rolled back to her feet, but by then Trilla was fazing into attack mode, driving her blade clean through her first victim as he groaned his final groan. Blasterfire raged her way, but her speed was too quick, some bolts even committing friendly fire as she raced around her quarry at an alarming speed. She reached out with her prosthetic and struck paydirt, crushing a trachea on her grip, and then proceeded to throw his body aside and reignite her blade, deflecting each attack with the spin mechanism at full power.

Tossing her blade with a slight sadistic smirk, she let it carve through their numbers as she disappeared from view again, using her fists to beat down others while her blade cut through them like a scythe. Falling atop one trooper, he gasped as she slammed her fist into his helmet, shattering the duraplast with the third blow and cracking his skull, before one of his companions fired a blast straight into her helmet. Grunting from the deflected blow, her saber clapped back into her hand, but she holstered it quickly, dodging a foolhardy rifle bash and grabbing ahold of his arm, twisting it until she heard tendons snap and his scream echo.

Ending his life with an uppercut of her blade, she felt herself knocked to the dirt by a kick, and Markov fired down upon her in a flurry that was only stopped by Trilla's double vision as she rolled away, kicking her blasters right from her grip. The ISB agent didn't give up, snarling as her shins slammed into Trilla's gauntlets once she was back on her feet, and the former inquisitor grunted as one boot winded her from its powerful kick.

Trilla breathed, holding her hands out in front. "Your technique is not bad, Agent…but it is limited by your lack of desire to branch out beyond the confines of Imperial academies."

Markov only spit blood from her mouth as she circled. "If you believe that to be the case, then you are in for a surprise, traitor."

"Just so long as you realize I will not need my hands to kill you."

"Jedi coward," she growled, but then felt her throat close as she was suspended in the air, Trilla's hand outstretched with a shaking anger.

"I am no Jedi," Trilla snarled through her mask.

"Neither am I."

Danger sense rattled her spine as Trilla released Markov and batted away a crimson blade with her own, and she watched the spinning hilt smack back into the hand of the Fourth Sister. Her short frame was all too familiar from various training bouts, and while Trilla had never known the Inquisitor personally, she knew plenty about every being that donned one of those uniforms.

"Jayne Hype," Trilla spat, pacing. "What a shame you weren't among those who perished when the Fortress went up in flames. You were always a difficult insect to crush."

"Well, I am glad you haven't shed any tears," Jayne retorted, twirling her blade. "Shows you haven't changed much at all."

That comment alone made Trilla want to strangle her for her ignorance, but that was its intention. She stifled the reaction and used it to continue to establish her dominance over the battlefield, just as she had done thus far.

"Oh, I have changed much, but not in any capacity you could possibly understand. I am no longer the slave I once was. Now I am unchained…free…while you remain locked to the handler that had broken you."

Jayne advanced, twirling her blade. "You always talked too much."

Suit yourself, runt.

With a spin of her hilt, Trilla fazed forward.

As their duel began, Markov picked herself up, her black hair in her eyes as she shook it out. Frustrated, she activated her commlink as she scooted away along the ground. "Cut a swath with the transports and bring me those fucking AT-STs," she demanded. "Now!"

"There is no need to shout, Agent Markov," Thrawn calmly replied, which was not who she had tried to contact. "We have played their game for long enough. Your AT-STs are already inbound."

Markov grumbled. "Where?"


Fighting a Jedi and a Super Soldier was an incredibly poor decision, and Nerah was beginning to wonder why she ever thought it wasn't in the first place. Shooting at Wraith to draw Ahsoka's defense had worked initially, but the pair simply began to shorten their proximity to each other, effectively erasing the need for Ahsoka to adjust at all.

And Wraith was getting fed up with her tricks.

Once he was close enough again, Nerah quickly holstered her blasters and defended his kicks and punches, but her exhaustion was beginning to show with each hit she was forced to absorb. Her personal conditioning was far above average, but Wraith was proving to be just as stalwart, and she wavered just enough for him to finally land a hard punch to her helmet that blurred her vision and knocked her to the ground. She felt it slide and roll away, leaving blood to poor down her nose as she held Wraith off from placing her in a choke hold.

"You're a…chiss…huh?" Wraith grunted as he tried to overpower her.

"Ch'in'he'ah k'pah!" she cursed, and wrestled him over, batting her elbow into the side of his head, only to be pulled into a headlock by the Jedi.

"Surrender!" Ahsoka urged, holding her tightly.

"Ravri'ihah vah!"

Two metal feet landed in a heavy heap as an Imperial dropship flew overhead, and Ahsoka looked up in horror as an AT-ST charged its weapons and marched forward. "Wraith look out!" she shouted.

Wraith rolled quickly away from the cannon fire, and that's when Nerah found her chance to free herself, muscling Ahsoka from her neck and kicking her to the ground, only to tumble through the air again via both of her outstretched hands. Landing in a heap, Nerah heard more durasteel feet hit the ground, and when she finally rose, she now had three AT-ST walkers to back her up…rampaging through the base.

"Ah…now this is where the fun begins," she whispered in Cheunh, and then activated her comm. "Always knew I could count on you, big brother."

"Maintain your focus," Thrawn chided her. "They are now overextended. Use that against them, Nerah."

"Of course," she accepted, cutting the connection, scooping up her carbine, and joining in on the havoc.


Trilla pushed off Jayne's blade with a harsh shove, and the inquisitor stumbled as she advanced at a slow pace, holding her yellow blade at her side. In a fit of rage, Jayne flipped to her feet and engaged in a single-bladed acrobatic Form IV attack string, to which Trilla was already well aware of and proficient in. Feinting her exposed head with a curt bow, Jayne took the bait, slashing downwards only to watch her crimson blade slide off Trilla's deflection and take a mark to her upper arm that prompted a yelp in pain as she flipped out of the way.

"I was always better than you," Trilla mocked. "You can't win. Accept it."

"Maybe," Jayne admitted, her hand holding her singed skin. "But you can't hide forever. One of us will bring you down eventually."

"Oh, I will gladly welcome anyone who wishes to try," Trilla smirked behind her helmet, pacing forward at a slow, intimidating pace. "Your Brothers and Sisters are dead."

"Not all of them," Jayne twirled her blade into a defense stance as she backed up.

"Give it time," Trilla suddenly fazed forward, but this time Jayne was ready, ducking under Trilla's horizontal slice and hitting her with Force Slow, bringing her movements to a crawl.

"Look at you now," Jayne mocked, stabbing towards her chest, only to see Trilla's fist close shut, and a glass-shattering Force wave erupted from her. Freed from the field, as well as staggering Jayne, Trilla went on the offensive, reigniting her second blade and engaging the spin, transferring from Form II to her experimental Form VII. The dancing of her blade in such a rapid and savage fashion bore upon Jayne as Trilla snarled, and when her defensive stance finally broke, Trilla's outstretched hand catapulted her through the air, until slamming roughly into an immovable tree trunk. With her helmet dislodged, the inquisitor collapsed in a heap, and blood began to drip down her nose and into her glove as she observed it.

"What will you tell your Master when he learns you've failed?" Trilla goaded, angrily marching forward, outstretching her hand until Jayne's neck was in her prosthetic grip, pinning her to the trunk. "What will you do when your usefulness reaches its end?"

Jayne looked back at her with violet-yellow eyes, merely granting her a smirk. "I certainly won't beg and plead…not like Effa anyway."

Trilla paused, granting her only an unwavering violet stare through her helmet.

"You didn't even try to save her," Jayne continued, even with Trilla's hand clasped around her throat. "You just let her die."

Trilla released her neck, landing a hard right hook to her jaw that downed the inquisitor in an instant, but instead of a pained groan, Jayne only laughed as she crawled along the dirt. "Go on…keep pretending to be nothing like us…but you'll always be the Second Sister," she rolled over, displaying her blood-covered expression. "No matter how many times you tell yourself you're different…you still fall back into your old ways…just like now. All these dead men…your gloves covered with the blood of mothers and fathers you've ruthlessly killed."

Jayne looked up, her snarl becoming apparent. "Their retribution will come, and when we have your daughter…we will ensure that you never see her again!"

The Empire…taking my daughter…

Never.

The Force itself rippled around her as Trilla plunged into the Dark Side, and only a blindside tackle saved Jayne from the killing blow that came next. Agent Markov ripped Trilla's mask from her head and landed a hard punch to her cheek that drew blood. With her vision hazed, Trilla welcomed the throbbing pain as if it were an old friend, and caught Markov's next swing with her metal hand, resulting in a satisfying clang. Despite this, Markov's martial skill proved to be superior on the ground and managed to pin Trilla with her forearm across her neck.

"Stay down, bitch!" Markov cursed through grit teeth.

Trilla grunted into a roar, forcing the ISB Agent off of her with raw might in the Force, flipping to her feet.

"You're all going to die!" she bellowed, reigniting her blade.


Wraith had faced insurmountable odds before…in fact it was what he had been created for in the first place.

This was a new one.

The odds weren't exactly insurmountable, they were just incredibly unpredictable, and by now he was done being surprised by Imperial tricks and hidden cards. Tossing in a female version of himself was already enough of a wrench, as well as the fact that she practiced a martial art that he was mostly unfamiliar with.

And Sithspit could she shoot.

Sure there had been other versions of himself tried and tested, and a few had made it off the operating table to assist him, but this one was something else entirely. Wraith had prided himself as the archetype, and while she was predictably faster with her slender build, she was stronger as well…which boggled his mind more than anything.

Who are you?

His first instinct was that she could've been Banshee, but the blue skin and red eyes quickly threw that assumption out the viewport. While it could've been possible the Empire came up with their own serum…they weren't exactly fond of creating any one person who could seize power in any way with their abilities, hence why force sensitives were being actively enslaved or murdered.

No…someone else had to come up with her, and then subsequentially gifted her to the Empire…but none of that mattered right now.

Not with three AT-STs tearing up their base.

"Time to break out that fancy gun," Ahsoka noted, maintaining her ready stance behind him, deflecting blasterfire.

Wraith grunted as he hoisted it from over his shoulder. "I wholeheartedly agree. Buy me some firing time."

"Already on it!" Ahsoka yelled from atop her jump, flipping over the large walker, cutting into its armor as a way of distraction. With its attention drawn away, Wraith shored himself up and flicked on the generator, and the satisfying beep that followed confirmed it was ready to fire. Aiming it towards another that was already preoccupied with its explosive destruction, he pulled the trigger, and the bright light screamed through the air until ripping through the walker's head. It stumbled and wined from the massive hit, and with the pilot vaporized, it collapsed in a loud heap, drawing cries of elation from some of the insurgents that were pinned down.

His natural sense kicked in, but he couldn't drop the gauss cannon fast enough to react to an armor piercing blaster bolt that ripped through his tough skin and incinerated his shoulder. Crying in pain, he grit his teeth as he rolled behind cover, turning to spot the chiss approaching with a longer barrel attached to her carbine. Firing in single shots that were much louder than before, they pounded into his cover while he fumbled for his slug thrower, the pain in his arm almost making it useless.

Another AT-ST collapsed, this time courtesy of Ahsoka's acrobatic movements and her blades, but the most violent noise he heard was the energy discharge that resulted in the crash of two bodies against the dirt. Daring to peak over, he spotted a banged-up Inquisitor and ISB Agent struggling to rise to their feet, just as Trilla walked through the brush…her gloves covered in crimson, and her eyes livid.

For some reason, that drew the chiss' attention away from him, and after a full sprint, she grasped ahold of Trilla's hilt with her raw strength before she could end the Agent's life.

Without a second thought…the chiss had left him to rescue her comrade.

Familiar.

"Are you alright?" Ahsoka popped into his vision, her eyes adopting concern, but also projecting the need for a quick answer.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll walk it off. Go help her."

Trilla was confused.

The alien's red eyes bore into her soul as her gloved hands remained clasped around Trilla's hilt, and the former Inquisitor could not push back against her overbearing motion, even with the assistance of her prosthetic arm. Her strength was unlike anything she had ever faced before, and for the first time she was beginning to worry that her blade would slice into her own arm.

"Roncan'i ch'itt'suvrecah cat len!" she proceeded to shout, to which not even Trilla could properly translate.

She didn't care. The anger within her had exploded, and Trilla grasped ahold of it to increase her strength and power output, pushing back.

"Trilla, no!" Ahsoka protested, holding off the other two from bothering her. "Don't give in!"

"Gah…shut up!" Trilla spat.

Ahsoka's brow arched as she deflected an attack from Jayne. "Katara!" she shouted. "Katara!"

Trilla's eyes widened with shock. In that moment, she felt the bond with her daughter return…and the terror she was currently feeding her.

No…this…this isn't what I wanted…she's safe…she's safe.

Calming breaths followed, and in her clarity, the light granted her more strength than the dark ever could. With a harsh shove, she freed her hilt from the alien's grip, but before she could retaliate, Markov grasped ahold of her, whispering something in that same language, before firing both blasters Trilla's way. The third AT-ST was collapsing by now, and with reluctance, the alien accepted Markov's guidance as they dashed into the jungle…with Jayne pushing Ahsoka off her to follow in tow.

Trilla wanted to pursue, but her body's injuries took their toll, and she fell to her knees with heavy breaths. Dropping her hilt, it was only then that she noticed the blood that stained her gloves, and the shame that followed broke her down…until she realized that what was done was done…there was nothing to be done now.

"You were right," she huffed, just as she sensed Ahsoka coming up behind her. "I am terrible at remaining calm."

Ahsoka snorted. "Honestly, I'm not sure anyone is really good at it."

Wiping her face and picking herself up, she regarded the togruta. "I think I'd like to go back to my ship now."

Ahsoka merely tipped her head. "I'll get you back as soon as I can."

With a slight nod, Trilla paced past her, but decided to give her a soft grip on her shoulder. "Thank you…for reminding me of what matters."

The togruta didn't seem sure how to react, but gave her a small nod, just as Trilla continued her walk…aimlessly and thoughtful.


"Where you off to now?" Wraith asked, just as Ahsoka pulled over a pack of supplies to restock her ship. "Off to be a recluse again?"

Ahsoka snorted in amusement. "No…I just need to get Trilla back, then…"

"Back to work," he answered for her, his arms crossed.

She nodded. "Back to work."

There were so many things he wanted to tell her…so many feelings he wanted to get off his chest, but none of them relinquished their weight on his tongue, fusing his mouth shut. He'd kill for another day with her, and he couldn't shake the fact that this felt like her leaving him all over again.

She paused, and then looked to him, seeming just as flushed. "Hey…you know…" she trailed off.

"What?" he asked, almost begging her to finish.

Her ice blue eyes studied him for a moment, and for the first time in years, he watched her stoic expression break. "Dammit," she mumbled under her breath and pulled him close, pressing her lips into his before he could react. He felt her somewhat begin to pull herself away, but then she went in for more…and it quickly felt like the first time all over again.

Pulling away, he was left breathless, and she giggled to herself. "I never liked working much anyway."

He smiled. "Is there more where that came from?"

All Ahsoka granted him was a wink, and then ascended up the ramp. "Plenty."

For the first time in 5 years, Wraith felt happiness rejuvenate his soul.


13 BBY – Praetorian

"Their forces were far more organized than I anticipated," Markov admitted, fighting off the winces that came with her injured body. "Despite the armor surprise, they adjusted quickly. We failed."

Thrawn kept his gaze on the viewport, not even regarding Markov's bowed head or Nerah, who merely watched with slight scorn beneath her expression. "Oh, on the contrary, this has proven most…enlightening."

Markov cocked her head. "Sir?"

The chiss turned with his hands clasped behind his back. "Not only have we proven Nerah to be effective at tearing through organized insurgent cells, but this confirms a far more burning question within the Empire. Someone in the galaxy is supporting acts of dissent throughout the Empire, I have no doubt about it now, especially with the emergence of this new weapon."

Nerah cleared her throat. "Powerful…break armor, easy."

"Yes…projectile weapons that have not been seen in the galaxy for thousands of years, and yet advanced to a point that they are effective against our nonadaptive technology," Thrawn mused. "Most interesting…but not nearly as interesting as the most prized discovery of all…"

They both waited, until Thrawn turned back to the viewport, watching over Onderon as it continued to turn.

"Ahsoka Tano."


Oof…okay, so I know this one took a little longer to come out that what you guys have been accustomed to, but I've got a couple excuses. I hit some serious writer's fatigue about 500 words into this, and actually spent a couple days not even touching this thing, which I haven't done since December (yikes). Also, I've been a little more active in the roleplaying community, so that took up some of my writing time, but I feel myself fading back to this again. Truth was, I needed a break!

I've got a things to go over, so hang tight, if you're willing.

I've received a few PMs and reviews asking me if this story is a follow up or AU to DFM23's Rise of the Wraith, and I'm here to tell you that my story is ABSOLUTELY AU. I would never presume to tell his story, so ANYTHING still goes for his story. This doesn't give anyone plot armor, make any characters safe, nothing. This is a tribute/spinoff version of Wraith that fits into the Eons Universe and is NOT AT ALL CONNECTED TO HIS STORY. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.

Thanks for stickin' with me, and I'll see you guys soon! Stay safe.