Chapter One
As the doors of the admiral's ready-room aboard the Victory I-class Star Destroyer 'Indomitable' slid open, the fourteen-year-old walked in smoothly, elegantly. The admiral was six feet eight inches in height, with blue-green skin mostly concealed underneath a naval officer's uniform: grey-green trousers and a double-breasted tunic of the same colour, accented by a black leather belt with a steel buckle and durasteel-capped black leather boots. Nearly his entire body was covered, except his blue-green hands, neck, and head, the latter with four tiny, catfish-like tendrils on his face, two along each side of the jawline and a mane of six larger tendrils from the back of his head. As she entered, the two-hundred-and-eighty-pound man turned to regard the young Bpfassh who had become his apprentice with intense yellow irises.
Her name was N'Lola Vurkoth, a native of Bpfassh and a member of the species of the same name, though it hardly mattered to the Feeorin Sith Master. She was five foot six inches in height, one hundred and fifty-five pounds of well-corded musculature, with light grey skin. Her eyes of dark violet were complimented by dark orchid eyeliner, eye shadow, and lip-gloss, each of which permanently applied in combination with the traditional black markings on her upper face, common to her people. A straight line of pure black under each cheekbone ending in a right angle up toward the inside of her eye and the base of her nose, narrowing into a point, and marks on her forehead that went first forward then angled down in the front of her forehead to make two V's where the narrow points met. Her figure was lean and muscled, though her attire was of her own selection and fabrication: a one-sleeved shirt of form-fitting black cotton with no right sleeve and a slightly loose left sleeve of three-quarter length and ankle-length trousers of the same jet fabric. In accompaniment of this, she wore a pair of black leather shoes designed to remain secure whether she was running or leaping, with knee-high stockings of black cotton underneath, and a cybernetic black gauntlet on her right hand that went up to an inch shy of her elbow.
Golm did not pretend to know what the gauntlet was for, what it was about, or why she had chosen such an accessory, and nor did he care. He assumed it had some basic value such as, perhaps, providing a communicator or a star-map, but that it was otherwise a purely cosmetic accessory. Golm had summoned his fourteen-year-old apprentice here for a reason, and that reason was not a social visit nor anything that could be considered imperially improper, he had a mission for her. He could see that attached to her belt of braided black leather, she wore the holster for the light-saber she had made for herself and had started to practice with a year and a half ago. Golm had never given her even a crystal, but one day, she'd simply shown up with it on her hip to continue her observance of him, she'd learned a lot by watching him, he'd never invested any effort in teaching her anything. Her power potential was considerable, and there was a possibility that through her, he could bring an end to the light-siders forever, getting revenge in the name of all Sith, and thereby becoming a legend, himself. He had immediately given her access to all the records on the Jedi swordfighting techniques, and had instructed her to learn how to counter each style.
"Admiral Golm, you summoned?"
"Yes, N'Lola, I have a mission for you. We have received reports of extreme criminal activities and rumours of a rebel presence on Tatooine. As an example of imperial might, you are to locate and exterminate the most militant criminal element on the planet and ascertain whether the rumours of rebel presence are justified. If you determine that there is a rebel presence on Tatooine, you are to ferret it out and eradicate the rebel vermin," Golm instructed calmly.
"Yes, Master. I shall ready a Delta-class shuttle, now," N'Lola responded, and Golm smirked. He liked the calm confidence of her initiative, her willingness to go by herself despite the fact she was all of fourteen years old, but he held a hand up to stop her.
"You will not be taking a Delta shuttle, N'Lola. I am placing a platoon of thirty storm troopers under your command to accompany you on this mission. You will be taking and piloting a Curich shuttle, accompanied by platoon commander Vedin Delk and his men. You will be expected to make all vital command decisions regarding these men," he said, "Is this understood?"
"Yes, Admiral, I understand."
"Good. You are dismissed. Exterminate any weakling light-siders you encounter."
"Of course, Admiral," N'Lola replied coolly from the doorway, facing away from him, though her head was turned just slightly in his direction, "My enemies will never know what hit them." Her words were icily calm, and of crystal-clear honesty, which reinforced Golm's perception that he had chosen wisely: he had not been able to read her mind anytime he had tried to do so, but whatever her life story, she must have had some reason to hate the Old Republic and their Jedi.
As she reached the hangar, she found that Vedin Delk and his men were already waiting for her, prepped and set to go, and a handful of mechanics had already readied the Curich-class shuttle 'Regulus.' The thirty men turned to her as soon as she arrived, and she strolled up to them without hesitation, stopping six feet from the armoured storm trooper whose white battle-dress included numerous purple markings, combat rifle in hand.
"Board the Regulus, commander," she instructed firmly, and the six foot two inch man nodded once firmly in answer and boarded the vessel accompanied by his men. Once they had all boarded, N'Lola boarded and walked down the aisle to the cockpit, turning and extending one hand, closing the hatch with an intentional demonstration of Force, before taking her seat. A few minutes later, they left the hangar of the Indomitable and immediately entered hyperspace as she set the coordinates for Tatooine. A planet on the Outer Rim, one that was rife with every manner of unmentionable personage and undesirable individual imaginable, a writhing knot of things the Empire needed to let amass in one place so they knew where all the worst people in the galaxy were located. At least, that was how it had been explained to her, at any rate, but given the Empire's disliking for insurgents and resistance, it was believable that they were letting it all fester so that they could then destroy it all at once, at some point.
As she piloted the Regulus down into the Mos Eisley Spaceport and landed, her platoon stood and readied for disembarkation, preparing their rifles for a hostile encounter. Once the Regulus settled and the ramp was opened, it only took seconds for Commander Delk and his men to disembark and fan out in a halo, creating a perimeter ahead of her. She walked down the ramp and stepped out into the dry heat of the desert city, and looked around for a moment, as it was her first time on Tatooine. N'Lola took a breath, before she then nodded to herself.
"Commander Delk, have your men secure the hangar and that warehouse, there," she said, indicating with a gesture the nearest warehouse to the chosen landing zone, "I am going into the city to investigate the reports."
"Ma'am, we have been instructed to…"
"Were my orders in any way unclear, commander?" asked N'Lola, cutting him off icily as she looked at him sideward, out of the corner of her eyes.
"No, Ma'am."
"Then secure the hangar and the warehouse, and wait for further instruction," N'Lola repeated, and the man snapped to attention.
"Yes, Ma'am, understood." She nodded, then turned and walked away into the city, proceeding into the city by herself, unhampered by the two and a half dozen storm troopers sent to tag along for no reason, while being totally unnecessary to her task. Worse than that, had they insisted on accompaniment, it would have drastically increased the difficulty of her personal goal here, which was not the mission that her Master had given her.
As she walked down one dusty road, she remembered the vast deserts of Tatooine where her mentors trained her for battle, though neither she nor they had ever actually been here in person…
"Remember, N'Lola, you will be expected to conduct yourself as Ricona, the name you chose for yourself in your veil as Sith Apprentice. You will need to walk a very careful line," her Epicanthix mentor, Xuax, told her calmly.
"Your Force Projection is becoming stronger," observed the other of her Epicanthix mentors, Nuav, with a similar level of calm.
"It is?" she asked, pausing in their swordfight at the indication of an abrupt pause for conversation, "How can you tell?" At their nod to the first question, she'd followed up with a second, before readying her stance for the continuation of their swordfight in the desert surroundings.
"Your Force image has crisper detail, and a smoother consistency; it used to flicker when you first began to learn this technique," Xuax replied, as he prepared his own sword. Then, without further warning, he attacked, with a lunge toward her, his projected image sweeping towards her own. Blades clashed without sound, as she spun around and blocked, learning the techniques of swordfighting with a real sword, to prepare her for the use of the light-saber.
"You must also remember that when you use the strongest and deadliest of your skills, you must also change your expression, and use the Force Veil to conceal your inner calm beneath a shroud of false emotion," Nuav warned, and as her match with Nuav's twin continued, Ricona nodded her understanding in answer.
"Your Force Veiling is becoming more efficient, smoother, more imperceptible," Xuax praised, "We've been using the technique less and less to conceal your true nature from Darth Fralius. You are progressing exceptionally."
"Thank you," Ricona said, as she continued to fight with him, lucent blade against lucent blade, soundless clash after soundless clash, until Xuax managed to land a sweeping slice through her chest that disrupted her image for the brevity of a heartbeat.
"Damn," she swore calmly.
"You are lasting longer and longer, your defensive prowess is increasing," Xuax praised and Ricona smiled.
"Thank you, you are excellent teachers."
"Just remember, during a light-saber duel, you should use only the Force Veil to conceal your true emotions, to hide your inner serenity from your opponent. They must never discover that you are a light-sider, or your impressive potential will never be fully realized, and your path will end prematurely. During a swordfight, you should only use your more active powers when an enemy begins to use their own, otherwise, you should not need them," Nuav said in an instructive tone, and she listened dutifully.
"Of course," agreed Ricona, and the Epicanthix assassin nodded.
"Good. Our training today is over, someone is approaching your quarters," Nuav said. Ricona nodded, and her pale blue projection vanished instantaneously, followed only a heartbeat later by the disappearance of both of the Epicanthix twins.
"Well?" demanded a light-skinned man of five feet ten inches, with tan-coloured skin complimented by rosy-coloured fur in some places, angular features, and bone spurs on his jawline. His long fangs, his catlike characteristics, and his overall posture made his species obvious to her, and she readily recognized him as a Zygerrian, clad in dark grey clothes, a blaster-pistol on his hip, and three others behind him as he glared down at her.
"Well, what?"
"Will you come peacefully, slave, or will we have to first break you here in the street?" he demanded, albeit he made the mistake of blinking as she fixed him with an icy expression, unimpressed by his demand.
"I am on imperial business and have no time for your foolishness, Zygerrian. Remove yourself from my path, or the consequences shall be… unpleasant."
"Excuse me? A scrawny little whelp like you, on imperial business?" scoffed the man with a laugh, "I think not, little worm!" As N'Lola looked at him, her right eyebrow slowly lifted and her tranquil expression began to shift to one of pure irritation. At the same moment, she veiled her tranquility behind a shroud of the same emotion as those facial features adopted, as her left hand snapped up in his direction. His body abruptly lifted off the ground, first just a few inches, but continuing until her hand stopped with him hovering three feet off the ground.
"I said," she repeated her words frigidly, "I have no time for your foolishness, Zygerrian. I am the Attaché of Admiral Golm, and I am here on imperial business." She half-turned and whipped her hand through the air, and the Zygerrian with it, as she flung him at a high rate of speed down the street toward an alley, where he slammed headfirst into a brick wall with a sickening crack as his neck broke. She turned back toward the remaining three Zygerrians and regarded him with an irritation expression, and as their gazes returned to her, they broke and fled from her presence, at once. She smirked in traditional Sith fashion at the success, changing the veiling emotion from irritation smoothly into amusement in the process, remembering her secret training with the Epicanthix assassins. N'Lola found their own story interesting, but she appreciated that they had radically revised their plans when she arrived on the Indomitable.
A few minutes later, she walked into one of the numerous cantinas in Mos Eisley, and walked up to the bar. She expanded her sensitivity, listening intently to everything around her, though it was not long before a man got out of his seat to approach her, noticing her odd attire and deciding to investigate.
"Well, well, you're definitely not from around here," he said.
"Perceptive," she commented, looking sidelong toward him and extending her sensitivity more poignantly in his direction, "Who are you?"
"Good news, that's who," he replied, "I can tell you're the type who likes bad boys, it's why you came here, isn't it?"
"Not at all," she replied in a muted voice, with a tranquility that stopped the Human mid-action as he'd been reaching out to put a hand on the Bpfassh uninvited.
"… than, why?" came the response, equally conspiratorially quiet in the noisy din of the cantina.
"I have information. Information that might be of interest to the right person," she answered in a hushed tone.
"… what kind of information, and what kind of right person?" asked the man. She turned and looked at him, then looked around, spotting an open door. Her mind worked quickly as she regarded the scruffy twenty-two-year-old in front of her, and figured a plan.
"Put your hand on my ass," she instructed as she stepped close, and he blinked but obeyed the command, if more than slightly uncomfortable with suddenly being put into a deferential position, as she lifted up onto the balls of her feet, and touched her lips to his. Dressed in a ragtag collection of clothes with a blaster pistol on his hip, he blinked at the kiss as she took his hand and forcefully dragged him with more strength than he had assumed her to possess, in the direction of that door. She slid through it with him, shutting the door while veiling herself with the emotion of lust and arousal, before turning toward him and putting her back against the door.
"…what the hell was that?" demanded the man immediately.
"Nobody can know I am providing you with this information, there needed to be an excuse for why I brought you into the privacy of a back room," answered the fourteen-year-old, looking a little disdainfully at the dusty bed in one corner. "Sit on the bed, make sure it's making sound." He sighed and groaned, sitting on the bed, which squeaked because of the low quality of the springs, and she nodded to him in satisfaction. She was surprised she wasn't needing to use the Force to guide him into it, but the Human was willing to do what she wanted if it meant getting some kind of information that would have value.
"And is that the first time you've had your hand on a woman's butt?"
"A woman's, no," he said defensively, "A girl's, yes. What's this information you're offering?"
"I know the location of a platoon of imperial storm troopers who can be readily ambushed. Start moaning, if you don't mind: pretty sure you'd rather be mistaken for slightly perverted than an imperial collaborator."
"From what you're saying it sounds like you're more of a collaborator than I am," he observed.
"For all the distinction anyone would make if they learned you were talking with a Sith Apprentice," she said in answer, and he blinked at her wide-eyed, "Start moaning." He immediately started to moan, though it sounded more to her like he'd just been shot in the neck than sexual pleasure, not that she had any experience from which to judge.
"Is that supposed to be pleasure? You sound like I just shot you in the face." He blinked, then closed his eyes and took a breath, before moaning in a much more satisfied tone of voice, and she nodded.
"Better."
"Now, where are these storm troopers, who are you intending to have receive this information, and how much will it cost me?"
"Free," she said casually as she stepped close to him so that he could hear her whispered response while still moaning in feigned pleasure, blinking as he felt a weird stir around him.
"What're you doing?"
"I am using the Force to fool anyone outside this room into thinking you're highly aroused and experiencing intense gratification," she explained, "Who is the strongest, most aggressive criminal boss in Mos Eisley?"
"Jabba the Hutt," he answered softly between moans.
"Would you like to have the money to escape Tatooine and weaken Jabba in the process?"
"Yes, but why would I need to escape Tatooine?" he asked in answer.
"Mainly because Jabba the Hutt will blame you for what happens and want your head, so you'll need to get off Tatooine pretty much immediately after you deliver this information. There are thirty storm troopers, including a storm-trooper commander, split between Hangar 314 and the nearest warehouse to it. I need them dead."
"And what's going to happen that'll piss off Jabba?"
"Whoever and whatever he sends will end up dead, because I'm going to kill them," she replied, before then motioning to the centre of the bed, "Start moving up and down, make noise." He obediently began to bounce his hips on the bed, creating a loud metallic creaking sound as if they were doing something else entirely. As he did, she started to jump and move her arms and legs back and forth, generating body heat and exerting herself physically in the process, earning her a blink in answer from him.
"What are you doing?"
"We're having sex right now, as far as anyone outside this room knows. If we walk out and I don't look like I've just been exerting myself to any degree, it will arouse suspicion."
"Damn," he answered, bouncing more aggressively on the bed to suggest intense, vigorous sexual activity in the room, "Who the hell are you and where are you from where people are this suspicious?"
"I am Ricona, apprentice to Darth Fralius," she replied, "I am using the Force to create a field that suggests extreme sexual intensity in this room, if we don't both look like we've been having sex when we leave, there is a very real chance that an actual Sith will come to interrogate you, and probably kill you."
"… so no pressure, all right," he replied, beginning to sweat from both the vigorous movements of his thigh and calf muscles and from the fear of being hunted down and murdered by a Sith. He had certainly not asked for this when he approached her!
"How am I getting off the planet?"
"Hangar 314," she replied, "Arrive as soon as possible, and if there aren't bodies scattered around, wait until there are before you approach."
"… oh … well, that's lovely," he replied, between ongoing moans of feigned pleasure, "Please tell me it will not be too gruesome."
"No promises," she said, as she continued doing the jumping exercise until her hair matted to light grey skin and her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, her cotton garments clinging to her. He was sweating much more than she was, as she reached down and grabbed his hand, yanking him to his feet. To his credit, she could tell he was not aroused, he was terrified and apprehensive, and she put her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes calmly.
"Do exactly as I say, and you will survive this," she promised, and he nodded.
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied nervously.
"Tell Jabba the Hutt that thirty heavily-armed storm troopers are primed for an ambush, and that he needs to send sixty soldiers to kill them. Tell him they are escorting a weak Sith Apprentice who has orders to kill him, and he will need sixty soldiers to compensate for the weakling. Tell him that you will give him their location for ten thousand credits, let him bargain you down to two thousand, he'll feel like he's getting a good deal and won't think twice about it. You need to be at Hangar 314 before he learns his soldiers have been killed."
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, breathing a little easier, though his chest was still heaving with the exertion as she changed the veil from arousal to gratification, as had been demonstrated to her by Xuax and Nuav. She did not totally understand these emotional sensations, but she knew how to replicate them well enough to convince someone outside the room that she had seen this random man, lusted after him, and taken him for her own adolescent pleasure. Finally, she moved back to the door and unlocked it, opening it and stepping out, hiding her tranquility behind both empathic and muscular masks of amused satisfaction, as he emerged behind her and tentatively put a hand on her rump again. She looked over her shoulder and up at the slightly taller man, feigning a playful wink; then N'Lola slipped clear of him to vanish into the city. As more than a few people in the cantina looked at him oddly, the scruffy young man was quick to get out of it as well, hurrying to follow her instructions for bringing information to Jabba the Hutt and making a good two thousand credits.
A few minutes later, still slightly sweaty with the physical exertion of pretending to have just had sex, N'Lola entered a separate cantina with an entirely different atmosphere. This place was clearly populated by mercenaries, and she approached the bar, where a man was polishing a freshly washed mug.
"Who's the best merc team in Mos Eisley?"
"Depends what you mean by best, little lady," replied the bartender.
"Fast, efficient, dependable, loyal," she replied, and he immediately pointed towards one group in particular, a group of thirty-seven Barabel. Ranging six foot two to seven foot two, they represented the full range of the average Barabel, with long carnivorous teeth and black eyes, covered in dark, grey-green scales. She could tell it was a mixed group when it came to ages, some were unmistakably younger than the rest, and she guessed them at being sixteen to forty years old. Each one had a sturdy, healthy tail, armoured in light grey leather and durasteel, metal vambraces on their lower arms and boots with durasteel in the soles. Every member was armed with a pair of hand weapons having two serrated, curved dagger blades creating an S-shape, the curves themselves shallow and almost straight, as well as an E-11 blaster rifle. She did not know where they got them, and she didn't care, there were thirty-seven of them, and they would meet her needs perfectly.
"Hello," she greeted as she approached them, and their leader and tallest member of the group sat upright in answer, fixing black eyes on her intently. She extended her sensitivity and scanned every one of them, and smiled just faintly at what she discovered from her examination of them.
"What do you need done, little lady?" questioned one.
"This is not the place for that discussion," she answered, nodding towards a back room, and proceeding there with the leader and a couple of his chief underlings, similarly in the range of thirty-six to forty years. Once the door was shut, she turned and faced them.
"How would you like to kill some criminals and take on a permanent, recurring paycheck?"
"What's the job?"
"Unflinching loyalty," she replied, "What's your name?"
"Zivvac," replied the leader, "These are my lieutenants, Ketar Maire and Vindac."
"Your task will be to remain loyal to me above all others, your reward will be getting to kill some underlings of Jabba the Hutt, perhaps some storm troopers, and receiving an imperial paycheck on a regular basis. You," she said, and they nodded slowly as they listened, "and every one under your command, both men and women, unless I missed my count."
"No, there are four girls and two women," confirmed Zivvac, "This sounds like a permanent assignment."
"It is, and it would be a transition from mercenary to infiltrator. I am N'Lola the Lady Vurkoth, and as Ricona, I am the Sith Apprentice of Darth Fralius," she said, "You will need to address me as Ricona at some times, and Lady Vurkoth at others."
"This sounds more like bodyguard work than infiltrator work," Zivvac observed, "Not that it matters enough for me to care. We can do the job. Where's the first mission?"
"Hangar 314," she replied, "It is going to be the site of two ambushes."
"Two?" blinked Zivvac.
"Two," she confirmed, "I came with thirty storm troopers. They will be ambushed by an attack comprised of at least sixty fighters in the employ of Jabba the Hutt. You will wait until either all storm troopers are dead or until all of Jabba's thugs are dead, and then you will ambush the surviving group. Also, there'll be a scruffy human approaching after that. Don't shoot him."
"Why not?" asked Ketar, curiously.
"He's coming with us. He's why the first ambush is happening," she replied, "We'll be dropping him off on Lessuris."
"That backwater in the middle of nowhere?" asked Vindac, "Doesn't sound like you like him too much, Lady Vurkoth."
"It's more that it's outside the Empire and from there he'll be able to get to wherever he wants to go next," she replied, and the Barabel nodded.
"Well, Lady Vurkoth, you've bought yourself some Barabel," Zivvac said, "I won't pretend to know what's going on, because you don't sound like any Sith Apprentice I've ever heard of, but then again, I haven't heard of too many Sith Apprentices." She chuckled a little in answer, honestly, and nodded.
"Good. I will be bringing you back to the fleet with me as local replacements for the storm troopers that are going to die here today. Your story," she said, "is that you are imperial loyalists who saw an imperial agent surrounded by enemies and felt it was your moral obligation to provide that imperial agent with reinforcements."
"For all that you'll need them, Ricona?" asked Zivvac, and she smirked a bit in answer.
"That might depend on how much manpower Jabba the Hutt decides to put on the field," she admitted, since she had leaked information that she was there to kill him. It wasn't literally true, but technically speaking, it might as well have been, since she'd been instructed to take out the strongest, most aggressive criminal element, which sounded like his fit the description.
When she returned to the waiting Regulus, Commander Delk approached immediately.
"Ma'am?" asked Delk.
"My mission has been successful. A group of criminal insurgents will be attacking shortly," she said, and he immediately shouted to his men to take combat positions in front of the hangar and the warehouse, and between them for defensive purposes. Crates were moved, giving them secure firing positions, in several layers back, as fourteen on either side took up positions in each of seven places progressively closer to her, while Delk and his lieutenant took up positions flanking her as she drew her saber. A low hum and the press of a button, and the light-saber's cylindrical red blade emerged smoothly, scaling to her height as she waited for the enemies to arrive. She could sense their approach, and it was many more than she had told the man to have sent, though with her plans in motion, she wasn't extremely concerned about that.
A few minutes later, they arrived, three dozen armed men on either side, bearing blaster rifles and pistols as they charged into battle. They immediately opened fire on the defensive positions of the storm troopers, and began to exchange shots, as N'Lola stood on a crate in an open position, using her light-saber to block and redirect shots coming from both directions. Twisting and almost dancing on the high crate as her subordinates fired from their own defensive positions, she watched as storm troopers succumbed to the barrage on either side of her, dying slower than unarmoured enemies were dying by contrast. As her own group dwindled from thirty to twenty and the battlefield narrowed into a new focus, the attackers dropped from seventy-two to forty, with her own defensive actions. Her attention remained focused, her demeanour calm as she perceived herself unthreatened and unchallenged by the raging firefight, even as several more men in Delk's platoon died in the gunfight. Forty criminal gunmen became eighteen, and twenty storm troopers became six, with one last position on either side of her, and more shots coming in her direction.
"Reinforcements are coming, commander, hold fast!" she shouted down to Delk, who paused only just long enough to look up at her blankly before resuming firing. Even so, his commander's armour was taking several hits at that moment, and soon the criminals were dead to their last, with only Delk and his lieutenant remaining below her. It came with a moment's respite, before twenty more criminals appeared at either end of the alley between the warehouse and the hangar and the battle resumed, as the last two storm troopers fought to survive the ambush's second wave. As she continued to redirect shots coming toward her, she whipped around and tapped the gauntlet, activating the crystal hidden inside, which even Admiral Golm didn't know about. Blasts from the criminals jolted her gauntlet as Delk and his lieutenant died on the ground below her six-foot perch, while her light-saber whipped about to deflect shots from the remaining twenty-four fighters, focused utterly on her.
Right on cue, her Barabel reinforcements arrived, and ambushed the enemy fighters from behind, killing the lot of them in seconds. They were in positions that made it hard for her to kill them, but which exposed the rear flanks of both teams, and made those two dozen unlawful militants little more than fish in a barrel to Barabel reinforcements, who smirked as they stepped in and looked up at her.
"You know it's kind of impressive that you managed to stay alive with forty men shooting at three targets," Zivvac observed, "Do you require assistance coming down, Lady Vurkoth?"
"No," she replied before leaping from a standstill, moving forward as her legs whipped forward as well, with a Force-assisted somersault that brought her down to land in front of them as if it were the simplest and most natural movement imaginable. She straightened her shirt, pressed the button on her light-saber and then her armoured gauntlet, disabling the blade and power-shield, then turned her attention toward the Barabel soldiers.
"Thank you for your timely assistance, citizens," she continued, to pad the memories they would have in the event that Admiral Golm decided to read their minds and scan their memories. It would be better for him to find some memories but not all: being unable to read them entirely would undoubtedly make him suspicious.
"It was an honour to provide assistance to an agent of our glorious and noble Empire, your Ladyship. Would you prefer my team and I to continue to provide you with secure escort? Your storm troopers seem to have been slain."
"Your proposal is acceptable," she replied, with a smile for the sake of memories, feigning the appreciation to be expected from an imperial agent under a considerably heavy assault. As they approached the landing pad, N'Lola saw that the scruffy-bearded twenty-two-year-old was nowhere to be seen but she could sense his presence nearby, in addition to soon hearing his voice.
"My Lady?" called the young man.
"Come, the battle is over," she replied, and he quickly appeared from a hiding place behind some crates and approached, halting with a startled response as he saw the Barabel.
"Thank you, my Lady," said the man as he approached her.
"The Empire thanks you, citizen. You have done your Empire a great service in aiding in weakening the most potent criminal element on Tatooine. For your safety, we will relocate you to the planet of Lessuris, from which you may then return to the Empire wherever you please, and you will be handsomely rewarded."
"Thank you, my Lady. I am sorry, I forgot to introduce myself when we met, my name is Kalo Arkath," said the twenty-two-year-old, focusing bright green irises on her and bowing politely.
"It is all right, I did not introduce myself, either, save but to say that I was on imperial business. My name is N'Lola Vurkoth," she answered, "Please, step aboard the shuttle." Kalo nodded and immediately boarded, where she followed him, and the soldiers then proceeded aboard behind her, taking seats while holstering their weapons once the ramp was closed and the shield was active. A few minutes later, they were racing out of the atmosphere at high speed, and then entering Hyperspace to head for Lessuris.
"My Lady, my name is Zivvac, these are my lieutenants, Vindac and Ketar Maire," Zivvac introduced himself in continuance of the intended ruse, "May I ask my Lady a question?"
"You may, Captain Zivvac," she replied, carefully piloting the shuttle through Hyperspace.
"Our passenger, who is he?"
"An incredibly handsome and impressively well-endowed man I met in a cantina, he provided key assistance in luring a large number of Jabba's human fighters into my ambush," she replied. Through her sensitivity, she could sense Kalo blushing in response to the unexpected flattery, and could feel a stark resolve building in him to seek out the rebels, with whom he assumed she was associated. In technicality, she wasn't associated with them, but given that she had her own reasons for being an enemy of the Empire, she would have been part of the rebel forces if she hadn't managed to trick a Sith Lord into taking her as an apprentice.
"Understood, Ma'am," replied Zivvac, returning to where he had been seated before, assuming that she was lying about the tryst, but surprised she would give a man the benefit of being called well-endowed by a Sith-maiden.