As the Resistance grew in numbers, it became increasingly feasible, even desirable, to divide their strength. That took Poe's units to the Ibanus Asteroid Belt, an Old Republic base which had lain derelict for years until the Resistance claimed it.

Rey couldn't claim to be a fan of Ibanus. Even after Hjolterum's viciously frigid climate, she missed being able to step out for some truly fresh air. Missions of any sort became something to savour, in that regard.

But still, it was home, and the lack of distractions allowed Rey to double down on her studies.

/¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯\

She was still reaching out for greater understanding, delving into other holocrons that concerned themselves with staff combat in particular. Helpfully, there were a couple of specialist fighters whose expertise was preserved for her.

"A saberstaff marries well to the strengths of Ataru," declared Shiva Andoma, a Mirialan woman who had made Form IV the core of her style. "It demands space more than any other commonly used variant of saber, but once the wielder is in continuous motion, its heft and reach serve to bolster their attacks. Furthermore, its area of attack goes some way to countering Ataru's traditional weakness against large numbers of foes, while the often unfamiliar nature of the weapon disorients enemies."

Rey could vouch for that already. Even in a Galaxy with only one Jedi, Stormtroopers were trained to combat opponents like them. If they engaged soldiers with melee weapons, they would be wielding vibro-swords or shock-batons like their own. A staff was something of a novelty to them, and she could use that to her advantage.

/¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯\

And yet, Drallig himself was ready to point out the fragility of the Form.

"Consider the Hawk-Bat," he said. "Talons and teeth keen as a monomolecular blade, but paired with hollow bones and the thinnest of membranes for its wings. Ataru will not stand against a horde unless one is constantly on the move, lest one be pinned in place and overwhelmed. Likewise an Ataru wielder places themselves in great peril should they challenge a Djem So duellist; if that stolid defence is not broken, Ataru offers little to protect against the heavy counterstrikes that will ensue.

"The Hawk-Bat requires room to manoeuvre, to swoop and strike from every conceivable angle and to evade its prey's responses. Deprived of that advantage, it suffers, and the same is true of Form IV.

"To practice Ataru, therefore, is to be as the Hawk-Bat. Stay aloft and you will be almost untouchable. Fail, however, and the fall will be great indeed."

Seventeen months after she began her training, in a coastal base on Kretha, Rey learned the truth of those words.

/¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯\

Salt spray misted the air with each heavy wave that beat against the coastal wall. The seas of Kretha were brutal, and Rey wondered how anyone had ever decided it would be worth sailing them.

She wasn't wild about the notion of using the place for a Resistance base either, if she was honest with herself. They'd probably spend half their time here fighting salt corrosion. But then again, this place had served the Rebel Alliance as a bolthole during the Civil War. If it could stand in the face of the sea's pounding for fifty years, it would probably weather just about anything.

And of course, they didn't live in an ideal Galaxy. For bases, just like everything else, the Resistance had to take what it could get. To that end, she was traversing the remaining maintenance gantries in what had once been the primary hangar.

Poe, on the floor below, was more optimistic. "Looks good from down here. Plenty of space for fighter berths. How's it appear further up, guys?"

"We're going to add some more gantries," Rey said, testing a pipe's strength before making her way steadily across it. "But it looks like all the piping and such is pretty much intact, even if the wiring will need a lot of looking at."

"And it'll be an improvement over Ibanus, won't it?"

Rey grunted in agreement. "Though I'll still be glad to get rotated back to Ajan Kloss." Apparently comfortable bases just weren't on the menu right now.

She might have said more as Poe happily talked on, but then she felt a tremor of unease through the Force, as if a shadow had fallen over her. "Wait," she spoke up, interrupting Poe. "Something's coming."

"What the – oh, damn," Poe growled, as a rumble of engines made itself known over the roar and thump of the sea.. "Incoming ships!"

Rey swore, gazing up through the open roof. There were two bulky ships, red and black, lowering themselves onto the landing pads atop the base. The damn Guavian Death Gang.

At least it wasn't the First Order who'd found them, she supposed. But this was a bad turn all the same.

Finn's voice crackled in her ear. "Kaydel's put the call through to Black Squadron."

"We've still got to hold out 'til then," Rey replied. She might have said more, but then the voice of the enemy intruded.

"Jedi!" it came as a bark of anger, twisted by a helmet's emitter. Red-armoured figures emerged from the gloom, a couple of storeys up. The Guavian Enforcers.

Rey froze. Despite the mechanical element, she knew that voice. The snide tone of it, and of course, the hard, flinty accent.

"Bala-Tik," she said, finding herself mimicking the stolid, unaffected tone she'd once heard Han Solo use to the same man. She drew her staff, fingers poised on the activation studs. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to collect on that debt you inherited along with the Falcon." She could see him now, stalking on a gantry above her. "Along with the quite considerable price that the First Order's got on your head." The Death Gang fanned out, some sighting her and taking aim.

"That's pretty brave of you guys," Finn retorted from up above Rey – by the sound of it, the same as the gang leader. "Last time we met, you and Kanjiklub lost a dozen guys."

"I don't see any handy Rathtars today, FN-2817! Just a Jedi, an officer and a traitor who the First Order want taken alive, and a few others they'd rather see dead. So which way's it gonna be – warm or cold?"

LM-276, down at ground level, gave him his answer. Dropping to one knee, he drew his rocket launcher, took aim, and fired. The projectile shot into the midst of several Enforcers and exploded, hurling them into the air. Several plummeted to earth, while up above, Finn and others opened fire on the rest.

"Take them! Kill the rest!" Bala-Tik bellowed. "And Skrain, bring me the Jedi!"

Rey didn't catch the full import of those words just yet. She was rather occupied with the Enforcers who were firing at her. Her staff buzzed through the air, repelling the bolts. One flew right back and caught the shooter, dead in the centre of the circle on his helmet. Down he went. Another caught his comrade's bolt in his chest, and the rest were caught out by Finn.

But there were more of the Death Gang pouring into the hangar, both above and below. And among them came a figure whose armour was swathed in a heavy cloak, who hurled himself from the railings to come down on the gantry in front of Rey. He rolled upon landing, drawing what at first looked like a staff of his own. Then she saw the head at one end, which began to crackle with violet coils of lightning.

An electrohammer. Exactly the kind of weapon to target Rey's relatively weak defences. She realised that this must be one of the bounty hunters employed by the Guavians, the ones they sent after their deadliest quarry.

She didn't get a chance to think further. He came at her, purple energies fizzing about the head of his weapon. Rey responded cagily, dodging as much as blocking. She read her enemy's movements, gauging his speed and power. Both were superlative.

Quickly, she realised that he wasn't just skilled, he was Force-sensitive. She could see that in the way he moved; the assurance and poise. But the way he connected to it and weren't like hers, in more ways than one.

Darkness stained the Force around him, rage boiling off him like heat. He seemed to spread a net, trawling for anguish and pain. He couldn't reach as deeply into the Force as she or Kylo Ren could, so he clawed ravenously for every scrap of power he could get.

He was also bigger than her, stronger too. He wasn't as fast, and she couldn't find the trace of any Form in his fighting, but his technique was rock-solid and she was hard-pressed to defend against the thunderstrikes of his hammer.

Instead, she went on the offensive. She drew back, retreating to a wide balcony, and when her opponent reached it she lunged at him. Her staff moved rapidly, driving him into retreat.

They fought across the gantries, painting the metal and ferrocrete around them in smears of bue and violet. Their weapons flared angrily whenever they connected, dispelling the darkness.

Now she was making him work, changing her angles, darting rapidly around him. The Force surrounded her, carrying her, and though the Dark Side surged back through him, the light within her blazed right back, fierce and bright as a flame. Offence was her defence.

And yet, she couldn't break through. She pushed the hunter hard, but he weathered her attack, catching the staff on the head and shaft of his hammer. Rey felt the acid burn of fatigue, simmering to life in her muscles. And with it, a stirring of worry.

Then the hunter swung at her, breaking her pattern of attacks. It caught Rey off guard and though she threw up her staff to deflect, the impact jarred her wrists.

The next swing drove her back, Rey veering out of range rather than try to parry. Her opponent came on, and she was only dimly aware of the sounds of fighting above and below. All her concentration was on the fight.

She tried to break away, but now the hunter kept on her, steering her back onto a corridor, high but narrow. And now through him, the Dark Side rose up and crashed on Rey's defences, as cold and remorseless as the sea, with each swing of the hammer.

And now Rey truly struggled. It was like the river of the Force was channelled through a tight channel, choked with rocks and other obstacles. In the open, she could ride the current freely, but here she was hemmed in, her options closing down. Gallingly, though her attacker's style was less sophisticated, it was more effective in these confines.

Rey felt satisfaction radiating from her opponent, and realised that it was entirely deliberate. He'd read her in their initial exchanges, gauged her weaknesses, and moved to exploit them before she even realised it was happening.

A memory from her studies flickered through her mind - one that had described how an Ataru user could be overcome. This, she thought with an icy prickling of alarm down her spine, is how Qui-Gon Jinn was killed.

She tried to take back the initiative, darting away and then coming back hard with a rain of heavy blows, but her enemy caught them all. Then he struck back, a heavy swing which almost wrenched Rey's staff out of her hands, forcing it upwards, and spun her to the side.

Too late, she tried to parry. The crackling hammer slammed into her chestplate. It held, but Rey felt bones crack and she was sent tumbling across the metal floor. Her staff was knocked from her hands, and her whole side felt like it was on fire. She couldn't move. She couldn't move.

Her attacker followed up immediately, charging with his staff raised.

"No!" Rey cried, throwing out her hand. In her desperation, she struck her enemy with as much force as an AT-M6's cannon blast. The hunter flew up and backwards, striking a jutting bit of metal with an ugly crack. He went limp, back broken. After a few seconds, with a groan of yielding metal, he slid off, flopping onto the ferrocrete like a broken puppet.

Rey sagged back onto her elbows, before she groaned and rolled awkwardly onto her front. Her whole left side felt like it was on fire, and now she could tell that she had broken ribs. She fumbled for her blaster, drew it, then hooked her elbow around a railing and pulled herself awkwardly up into a kneeling position, snarling from the pain that seethed along her side.

It took a little longer for her to notice that the sounds of fighting had faded. Straining her hearing, she realised that they were gone entirely. The sea's remorseless thumping against the sea wall was the only noise, along with another snarl from her own throat as she struggled to her feet.

Boots drummed close by. Rey twisted with a hiss of pain, aiming the pistol as best she could. But then Kaydel's shout rang out – "Rey! Rey – kriff! Rey, are you alright?"

Rey turned to the lieutenant and tried to give a response with some degree of levity. "Took you long-" But then the pain flared up more violently than before and she crunched down, snarling through her teeth.

"Alright Rey, we've got you." Suddenly Finn was there, slotting in under her shoulder on her uninjured side. "Kaydel's got your staff, pal." He went to lift her, but then the hot knives of Rey's broken ribs bit deeper and she howled. "Kriff! OK, Rey, setting you down. We'll get you a stretcher – Tannel, get on that!"

"I'll prep a medpack!" came Rose's voice.

"Great, Rose!" Finn called. "Bala Tik's fled," he told Rey in a lower voice. "Minus his goons. You won, Rey, and we're getting out. We'll find you a medpack on the Falcon, then it's a proper bacta bath for you when we're back at Ibanus. Sounds good, right?"

"Yeah," groaned Rey. But it was a lie. For all that she'd survived the fight, she knew in her heart, she hadn't won it.