"As long as I'm fighting, I'm not dying. And I'm not done fighting just yet."
-Mara Jade Skywalker (25 ABY)
Star Wars: The Most Dangerous Game
Chapter Seven – The Last Enemy
Three hundred years ago, this particular hallway in the Starwell Hotel of Taris would've have hastened the upper crust of the planet's government and various entertainment industries from a private docking pad on the 115th floor and into a marvelous web of staterooms, cafes, and theaters. The hallway had been designed to build suspense, gradually enlarging itself every ten meters, becoming more elegant and complex with breathtaking works of local art flanking and looming low over any potential patrons who happened to pass through.
It was also designed with a mind for acoustics; to carry sound from the ballrooms, where orchestral music and lavish operas could be heard and felt until just after dinner service. At the center of the building, it branched off into the four cardinal directions, where a spiral staircase of gilded marble spanned the entirety of the structure, a rarity in late Tarisian architecture, implemented more for aesthetics and novelty rather than utility.
At the top of this staircase: an enormous ballroom, dubbed the "Star Lounge," domed with glass that sat upon pendentives carved into the likeness of Taris's revered founders. Here, more music could be heard, in addition to the sounds of the city driving on at all hours of the night, thanks to the room's wide doorways and immense balconies that sat well above the surrounding structures and skylanes. It was a place where one could look down upon the bustling hive that Taris had become and marvel at its quaintness from on high.
It must be pointed out that only three aliens had ever been allowed in the Sky Lounge after its initial construction: a trio of Twi'lek women who sang backup vocals for Lan Wager and the Nos Stromo Band. Even then, a steady stream of complaints had been filed with the management throughout the performance. It was for reasons such as this, and many more, that while many non-human races were filled with a swell of emotions upon hearing of the planet's destruction, pity was not among them.
The day Darth Malak ordered the bombardment of Taris from orbit, the buildings immediately surrounding the Starwell were the first to be struck, collapsing perfectly into their own foundations as fire rained heavy from the skies. The mountain of wreckage they created heaved and melted and cooled and pressed in around the Starwell's base until the lobby and lower floors had been completely crushed inwards, destroying and burying an enormous bronze statue that was said to have been cast on Corellia when the Old Republic had first been founded.
For five years, the Starwell Hotel of Taris stood in defiance of Malak's works, the Sky Lounge choked with the ashes and smoke of a decimated civilization, until the lower floors finally lost their fight, bringing the skyscraper down into the wreckage until that private docking pad on the 115th floor sat at ground level with the rest of the debris.
The Starwell is dark now, its self-proclaimed elegance buried beneath layers of ash. Its hallways slant at an unnatural angle, the artworks left behind during the evacuation have either been hauled away by scavengers or irreparably vandalized, and the theaters are silent but for the complaints of monsters that roam the surface.
Three hundred years ago, the Starwell Hotel broke the skyline of Taris, built with the intent to house a subculture of excess and exuberance. Little did the architects of this fallen wonder know: they were erecting a kilometer high monument to futility, with its sole purpose being to play host for Shae Vizla's last stand.
–
In the dining hall, there were still eating utensils sitting upon the tables, no longer arranged; a carving station that had rolled into the far corner of the room; short stacks of fine plates and dishes monogrammed with the hotel's logo sat on shelves, kept in place gravity and luck. The building's slant had send most of light furniture into the walls, and the heavy curtains nearby had long since unraveled themselves and fallen into mildewed piles of thread upon the tile floor.
Shae counted the tiles as she walked to the window.
She went prone near one of the shattered windows, peering out into the ruins, looking for any sign of movement. It had been three hours since she'd arrived at the Starwell, and she knew it was only a matter of time now before her pursuers decided to follow her trail. It would be daylight soon, assuming Taris had something resembling an average day/night cycle. If she were in their position, she wouldn't want her mark to have the advantage of clear vision.
Right now, they had the numbers, the firepower, and the advantage of cover in the dark. Shae was a Mandalorian, but she didn't have night vision beyond the scope of her unwieldy rifle. It wouldn't do her much good in a close quarters fight, in any case. Like the fight she was about to initiate.
Shae made a list of the number of holodrama actors and actresses she could recall from memory.
Everything was set. She had a plan and the energy to carry it out. All that was left to do was wait for the Jedi and his crew to show themselves and wander into the Starwell. She would have to act as a guide, after that; the hotel was a maze of hallways and connected staterooms and dining rooms and theaters. They would likely get lost, otherwise.
And she couldn't have that.
Shae started a game of pazaak in her head.
For years, she had entertained the thought of killing a Jedi, though the people who wouldn't report or arrest her for entertaining such thoughts were convinced that it couldn't be done. Impossible, they said. Remember Revan? Remember Malak? The Republic threw everything it had against them. Nothing. Those two had to kill each other off, in the end. Nothing else could touch them.
During one of her casual bouts of research on the matter, she had stumbled across a batch of recordings made by a man named Jaq Rand—later known as 'Atton'—who fought along side Revan and Malak during the Jedi Civil War. Most of the man's exploits were either classified or just plain non-existent, but the recordings detailed his time as a Hunter: someone who tracked down, subdued, and sometimes killed Jedi Knights, Masters, and Padawans alike. There were many Hunters serving under Revan during the war, but Jaq was top tier.
His main defense against the Jedi, he explained through he recordings, was to throw up mental barriers:
During a fight, a Jedi will use your own mind against you. With that direct line, they can read your emotions, your intent, your secrets—your weakness. This is why you play pazaak in your head, count your steps, count the stars, make lists, recite a song or poem backwards and forwards. Keep your mind busy, and they can't get in. You've stripped them of their main weapon. No, not their lightsaber.
You've diminished their ability to use the Force, and tell me, what's a Jedi without the Force? They rely on it more than they could possibly know. Watch them hold their lightsaber. Watch the uncertainty and fear take root.
Without the Force, you'll see nothing more than a man, a woman—a child.
And you will live for those moments.
Shae went through the checklist for getting the Taylir IV ready to fly offworld. Down below, her pursuers passed in front of the landing pad entrance to the Starwell, but didn't stray from their path. They looked to be heading to an adjacent building, which made her wonder if Jaq Rand's technique was working.
She toggled the sniper rifle's night vision and took aim at the group. There were about a dozen men and women that she could make out, with the Jedi walking near the front alongside someone familiar...
"Good old, Zarl," she whispered, adjusting the sights to bring them into focus. As much as she wanted to put a bolt through Zarl, she needed him alive to keep the group together. His fellow mercs were following his orders, and if he bit the dust, they would likely scatter or retreat. That would complicate things, and she didn't want to draw this out any longer. She tied her red hair back into a tight ponytail and lowered herself onto the rifle.
Just as the group moved beyond the landing pad, she lined up the crosshairs over one of the mercs on their left flank. She exhaled, pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked up a fair amount of dust as it vented heat and the sound was loud enough to cause some alarm, even if the group wasn't sure what had just happened. Shae didn't stay in position long enough to see if her shot had landed. They had heard and seen her, now it was time to change spots.
"Take cover!" Zarl roared. "Put some fire on that building!"
The dining room windows burst inward against a wave of crimson light. The angled blaster bolts tore into the ceiling and torrents of pulverized ferrocrete and bits of crystal chandeliers rained down upon Shae. They had definitely seen her, but she had to be sure they'd follow her in. Keeping her arms over her head to block the falling debris, she sprinted across the room and into the hallway. She made a left at the first stateroom and dropped into a slide that brought her to the window nearest a grand sized bed.
She had already wiped away the dust and propped the window open a few centimeters to allow for the rifle barrel and a clean line of sight. From her new position, she could see that the mercs were still firing into a spot ten meters to her left and they had taken up cover around a man lying lifeless on the ground. It was a good start. She took aim again, this time picking a target of convenience.
She caressed the trigger, lined up the shot, exhaled.
This time she stuck around long enough to see a woman near the edge of the group recoil and fall limp to the ground. Shae could hear Zarl shouting in anger at no one in particular before the group's blaster fire angled into her stateroom, destroying three hundred years' worth of preserved elegance. She moved back into the hallway, sniper rifle slung to her back, and kicked off her shoes against the wall. If Zarl and his mercs followed her inside—which, she was certain they would—she needed to move about quietly.
Some of the staterooms spanned several floors, with their own personal staircases to connect them. Shae used these to get back down to the 115th floor in lieu of the main stairwell at the center of the building, for fear of what she might attract. At the main hallway that connected the landing pad to the rest of the floor, she took cover behind a corner where the hallway widened by a meter on either end.
Moonlight poured into the entrance of the Starwell, which, at that distance, looked about the size of a pinhole. She took aim with her rifle and adjusted the sight, guessing that the Jedi would be the first to show his face.
She was right. The man's robes billowed wide around his feet as he entered. He kept his head down and his hood pulled low, not even bothering to look around.
Shae started counting all the times Cander had blown their money at the tracks. That would last her a while.
She took aim, keeping her mind on everything except her plan. The crosshairs lined up over the Jedi's head. She could hear Zarl's mercs falling in close behind. This was it.
She wouldn't have another chance.
She pulled the trigger. Before she could even compress it entirely, the Jedi's lightsaber ignited with a hiss/crack that the acoustically-sound hallway carried back to her without effort. The green saber went vertical and blocked Shae's blaster bolt before it could strike home, sending it ricocheting up into the ceiling.
He had blocked it, without effort.
Perfect.
She lined up another shot, just above the Jedi where she had affixed one of her blaster pistol's spare power packs to the wall. Just as her first shot was ricocheting into the ceiling, her second shot struck the power pack dead in the center. The pack exploded, releasing enough energy to throw the Jedi onto his back and send the rest of the mercs into a fit of panic as superheated plasma showered their bodies.
Half the group found their clothes on fire, the Jedi included. Shae took off at a sprint, moving deeper into the building just as the Jedi was recovering, tearing off his burning robes with a forceful tug.
Shae continued the pazaak game in her head, countering her opponent with a Minus Three card that brought her score back down to twenty. Her opponent went bust. The first game was hers. "Pure pazaak," she said.
Halfway to the marble stairwell, she took cover again behind an overturned couch and took aim. The Jedi had finished putting out Zarl's crew and was now moving in her direction with terrifying speed, his lightsaber dragging a burning scar across the wall as he ran.
Shae started another game, drawing a Ten card on the first draw. It would've been a nice start if her sidedeck wasn't all blue and positive. She couldn't afford to draw another one like that.
By now, the mercs were giving chase behind the Jedi, albeit at a much slower gait. They were roaring against pure adrenaline at the top of their lungs, their weapons up and ready to fire. The Jedi was already halfway down the hall now. Another few seconds and he'd be right on top of her. She took a few panic shots, not aiming at anything in particular. The Jedi brushed them aside with ease, barely even slowing. She let a fabricated sense of fear reach her mind, increasing her breathing and her heart rate to give it some credence, and fired her rifle some more. Once again, not one of the bolts connected.
"Damn!" Shae screamed, letting exhaustion seep into her voice. She took off down an adjoining hallway, leaping over fallen statues and cutting her feet all to hell on shards of marble. From this hallway, there was only one way to go, and that was through a series of staterooms that zigzagged across the northeastern quarter of the floor. All of the other connecting hallways were 'suspiciously' clogged with furniture and debris.
She knew the path by heart. Her life depended on it, after all. At the dresser, she went left. At the gilded mirror, another left. Follow the dark molding in the next room around to the double doors. Pass the broken bed on three legs and jump through the refresher into the next adjoining room. Cross that and exit into the next hallway.
It was easy enough, after all was said and done. All of the other doors and closets were 'conveniently' closed and locked.
She had to be in the next position before her pursuers got a visual on her again.
"Shae!" came Zarl's voice echoing through the staterooms. "Give up, Shae!"
Shae stopped running and padded quietly to the end of the hallway. She was standing only a few feet from the marble stairwell at the center of the building. There was a narrow door built into the wall at the northwest corner, where the northern and western hallways met at the center. Turning the handle gently, she propped the door open and stood on the threshold. Behind her was an employee passageway that ran the length of the 115th floor, so that waiters and maids could go from a dining hall to a stateroom to a theater without inconveniencing the patrons in the halls.
On the wall just outside the door was a series of ropes she had fashioned out of curtain drawstrings. Four, to be exact, and they all led off into the four main hallways.
Shae counted the number of ways she would've killed the Jedi who murdered her parents.
From the eastern hallway, the Jedi appeared, still holding his lightsaber out to his side. Shae let a false sense of fear and regret into her mind. She thought of words like "surrender" and "please" and "stop." The Jedi slowed to a stop at the marble stairwell. He was breathing heavily, but not out of exhaustion. For being who he was, Shae didn't think she'd seen someone so visibly angry.
"Two more lay dead outside, Shae," said the Jedi, taking casual strides forward. "You asked me for justification for all of this. Now, do you understand why?"
"I never did anything to you," she said with a calculated whimper. "I just want to be left alone."
"Some people are born unto trouble. You cannot change your fate, just as surely as you cannot change the stars. This has to end with you."
"Why don't you just tell me why? Stop speaking in riddles," she pleaded. "Why do you get to kill someone in cold blood and still call yourself a Jedi?"
Sadness replaced anger on the Jedi's face. He closed his eyes for a long moment. "We all have to give up a part of ourselves for the greater good. Civilization thrives on sacrifice."
"More riddles." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
Zarl and his group of mercenaries appeared in the hallway and sprinted towards the stairwell, making all kinds of loud noises that carried all throughout the building. "There she is!" he shouted. "What are you doing, Jedi! Kill her!" His voice crashed away through the marble stairwell—down into the darkness.
Shae grinned and cleared her mind, letting the Jedi in on what exactly he had just walked into.
"No..." The Jedi's face went pale, like a ghost there in the darkness.
"You're gonna die here, anyway." Shae pulled the four ropes, unleashing a coordinated avalanche of furniture that spilled out of nearby staterooms and blocked the four hallways leading away from the stairwell. Given a couple minutes, the mercs would be able to move everything out of the way and escape with relative ease.
But they wouldn't have that long.
Terrible roars erupted from the darkness at the bottom of the stairwell, and their came a rumbling sound like a Corellian rocket tram that shook the walls and floors. The Jedi was shouting at his group to get out, to flee—to just run, anywhere else but here.
Shae waited as long as she could, and was able to make out a pale, muscle-bound creature with a mouthful of knife-like teeth leap out of the stairwell and land on the nearest merc. The creature screamed with a primal bloodlust that scattered the rest of Shae's pursuers, as it tore apart and devoured the flailing merc limb by limb. Zarl and a few others opened fire at the wave of monsters emerging from the depths, while the rest of the group tried to frantically push the tangle of furniture out of the way.
The Jedi cut down the first pack of creatures as they charged the mercs, but then another dozen more leapt up over the railing. He couldn't stop them all. He briefly looked at Shae, likely wondering if he should abandon his group to exact his justice.
"They're getting through!" Zarl unloaded an entire power pack at the stairwell, driving a few of the monsters back, but unable to kill a single one. "Jedi, finish it!" He was pointing at Shae now, the crimson light of the blasterfire accentuating his rage. "Finish it—!"
One of the creatures fell upon him. With feral claws digging deep into his chest, he screamed and wrestled with his attacker until, with one quick motion, his head was torn away from his body. The rest was dragged back into the stairwell.
Green light moved across the walls in rapid motions as the Jedi felled more of the beasts. As the cries around him grew quieter, he whirled on Shae. She closed the door and moved her makeshift barricade into place in front of it. The Jedi would be able to cut or push through if he had a minute or two, but, again, she really didn't think he had that long.
Shae took off down the employee passageway, trailing bloody footprint behind her—the screams and blasterfire of a lost battle drowning out her laughter.