Star Jumper

Episode 8.2 - Two on One

Stardate: 41171.7

Earth Standard Date: March 03, 2364.

Galactic Date: 22nd Day of the Second Month, 3956 BBY

Location: Detention area of the Leviathan, In Orbit of Taris

The crimson glow of the Dark Jedi Masters' lightsabers advanced on Tyson. His mind raced through his options. Hidden at his back, within his Gray Goo Suit, his own Lightsaber and Laser Sword lay ready to be drawn in an instant. With his Sever Force perk, he could easily cut off one of the masters from their connection to the Force and cut them down, evening the odds.

However, Tyson hesitated, recognizing his current advantage. Malak and the other Dark Jedi remained unaware of his ability to sever their connection to the Force, unaware of his weapons, and also didn't know he had rudimentary control over other basic Force powers. If he struck down one of the approaching masters in the initial exchange, he risked exposing his true capabilities. The last thing he needed was to find himself outnumbered four or five to one, especially with Vicky still trapped in the energy cell.

No, Tyson decided. He would hold his Force abilities in reserve as a last resort, relying instead on his Augment abilities and other Perks to withstand the Dark Jedi Masters. For now, the element of surprise was his best weapon.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Tyson leaped backward, his hands instinctively reaching for the blaster pistols at his sides. He drew the weapons in a flash, assuming a dual-wielding stance as he rapidly squeezed the triggers. Each hand targeted a different approaching Jedi, sending a hail of blaster bolts toward them.

The Dark Jedi Masters' lightsabers whirled in a dizzying display of red light as they deflected many of the incoming shots. However, the barrage of blaster fire served its purpose, slowing their advance and buying Tyson precious seconds to assess the situation.

One of the master's voices dripped with disdain. "You are no match for the power of the dark side."

Tyson smirked beneath his helmet, his fingers never leaving the triggers of his blasters. "You'd be surprised what I'm capable of," he retorted in a tone laced with confidence.

"Your bravado will be your undoing," the second master warned, his lightsaber humming menacingly.

Tyson continued to fire, his shots forcing the Dark Jedi to maintain their defensive stances. He knew that he couldn't keep this up indefinitely, but every second he could delay their advance bought him a moment to come up with a plan.

Tyson smirked beneath his helmet as he considered the non-Force-related tricks he had up his sleeve. He absorbed the energy shield from droid maintenance earlier. While it would only hold for so long against the lightsabers, it would buy him precious seconds.

His Sith armor was also no ordinary suit, it was his Gray Goo suit, which had absorbed the properties of the beskar armor Tyson had looted from Bendak Starkiller after their duel. Beskar was lightsaber resistant. Together with the shield, it would give him a chance to survive or even take a number of strikes from the Dark Jedi head-on, granting him an advantage.

For closer combat, Tyson had vibroswords. But the durasteel blades would not withstand a lightsaber. He could not risk locking blades with the Dark Jedi. The vibrosword could serve as a distraction, rather than his primary means of attack.

Tyson kept his blaster pistols firing, the brilliant bolts forcing the Dark Jedi back as they deflected them away with swift sweeps of their lightsabers. He rolled to the side, narrowly dodging a slash from one of the masters that passed mere inches from his face. The searing heat of the plasma blade washed over him.

The corridor echoed with the rapid staccato of blaster fire and the electric hum of lightsabers. The air grew thick with the acrid tang of ozone and the palpable tension of the ongoing battle.

The lead Dark Jedi Master's eyes narrowed, his frustration visibly mounting as Tyson continued leaping back to keep him at range with the blasters. With a feral snarl of rage, the Jedi called upon the Force. His lightsaber flew from his grasp, hurtling through the air toward Tyson's chest in a deadly spinning arc.

Tyson could feel the weight of the Force propelling the cylindrical hilt, the Jedi Master's telekinetic power guiding it through the air with lethal precision. In that split second, Tyson called his personal energy shield into existence around himself.

The crimson plasma blade slammed against the barrier with a resounding crack. The superheated plasma edge sputtered and hissed as it met the glowing force field. The shield held firm, deflecting the lightsaber and leaving it hovering mere inches from Tyson's chest, the energy field protecting him from harm.

A triumphant grin spread across Tyson's face as he realized the opportunity before him. Before the Dark Jedi Master could reassert control over the hovering weapon, Tyson's hand shot out in a blur. In an instant he stowed his blaster pistol in its holster, then his fingers closed around the ridged metal hilt of the lightsaber.

With a triumphant grin, Tyson closed his fingers around the ridged metal hilt of the lightsaber. The Dark Jedi Master's eyes widened in disbelief, his face contorting into an expression of impotent fury as he watched his own elegant and lethal weapon now turned against him. "Impossible!" he snarled, his voice dripping with venomous rage.

Tyson twirled the cylindrical hilt smoothly in his hand, never taking his eyes off his opponent. The Dark Jedi Master's gaze followed the movement of the blade intently. Tyson pointed his other hand at the now weaponless Dark Jedi Master and fired his blaster pistol. The room fell silent as the three shots found their mark. Two to the chest and one directly between the eyes as the Dark Jedi Master crumbled to the ground.

"Not so impossible," Tyson taunted.

The second Dark Jedi Master stepped forward, the crimson glow of his lightsaber casting menacing shadows across his face. He held the blade before him in a defensive stance, ready to strike. "You dare to wield the weapon of a true Sith?" he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt.

"I dare to do whatever it takes to survive," Tyson replied evenly, twirling the cylindrical hilt in his hand. This weapon had shifted the balance, and he intended to press his newfound advantage. Assuming a defensive posture, Tyson held the stolen lightsaber before him, prepared to deflect any incoming blows.

The second Dark Jedi Master hesitated, his confidence shaken. The corridor fell silent, save for the crackling hum of the lightsabers and the ragged breathing of the combatants. Tension hung thick in the air as they eyed each other warily, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Tyson's grip tightened around the ridged metal hilt, his muscles coiled and ready to react in an instant. Though outmatched in skill, the weapon had evened the odds. He focused intently, attuning his hybrid Betazoid senses to anticipate his opponent's actions. Reaching out with his empathy, Tyson could feel the Dark Jedi Master's resolve faltering. Seeing his comrade cut down by a mere trooper, now armed with their weapon, had shaken him. Beneath the bravado, Tyson sensed discomfort, then anger, and the first stirrings of fear. The Dark Jedi's confidence in his superiority was eroding.

The sinister laughter of Darth Malak echoed through the cold durasteel corridor. The Dark Lord's voice dripped with dark amusement as he declared, "Seizing power is the way of the Sith. You seized that weapon and his life. Certainly worthy of being my apprentice."

Tyson tightened his grip on the ridged metal hilt of the stolen lightsaber. He eyed Malak warily, probing outward with his Betazoid senses to ascertain the intentions behind the Sith Lord's words.

Malak turned his baleful gaze upon the two remaining Dark Jedi who had escorted Tyson to the detention area. His expression was one of utter disdain as he demanded, "Will any of you challenge his right? Or have the three of you been cowed by this upstart?"

A tense silence hung in the air as the Dark Jedi exchanged uncertain glances, hesitation rolling off them in waves that Tyson could sense with his empathy. Their confidence had been shaken.

Then, with a resounding snap-hiss, the two Dark Jedi ignited their crimson lightsabers in unison. The angry glow of the plasma blades cast their faces in sinister hues, their features twisted into masks of grim determination.

"So be it," growled one, dropping into an offensive-ready stance.

In a blur of sudden motion, the two Dark Jedi charged toward Tyson, their deadly blades raised high. Tyson's reflexes kicked into overdrive as he snapped his stolen weapon up to deflect the first blistering strike.

The corridor erupted into a frenzied clash of lightsabers and blaster bolts. Tyson moved with extraordinary agility to deflect the relentless assault from both sides. His stolen lightsaber hummed and crackled as it met the crimson blades of the Dark Jedi, the superheated plasma edges sputtering with each impact. With his blaster pistol, he fired off a rapid volley of shots at his opponents. The bolts streaked through the air, forcing the Dark Jedi to divide their attention between parrying the blaster fire and pressing forward with their lightsaber attacks.

Tyson's movements became a blur as he twisted and contorted his body to avoid the deadly arcs of the Dark Jedi's blades. He parried and riposted in a dizzying flurry, his stolen lightsaber a swirling vortex of crimson energy as he fought to keep the Dark Jedi at bay.

Then the Dark Jedi Master charged back into the fray, his lightsaber slashing in a vicious horizontal strike aimed at Tyson's midsection. Tyson pivoted smoothly on his heel, twisting his body in a fluid motion as he brought his own blade down to meet the brutal incoming blow.

The two lightsabers collided with a thunderous crack, the superheated plasma edges hissing and sputtering as they ground against each other.

The clash of plasma blades hissed and sputtered as Tyson locked sabers with the Dark Jedi Master. In that frozen moment of deadlock, the other two Dark Jedi seized the opportunity to strike. One's crimson blade arced high overhead, poised to cleave Tyson's exposed back in two, while the other thrust forward in a viper-like lunge, aimed at piercing his ribs.

Time slowed to a crawl as Tyson's senses heightened. His hybrid Betazoid empathy and passive connection to the Force allowed him to anticipate the lethal blows. Mustering his Augment strength, he grunted with exertion and disengaged, shoving back against the Master's saber. Pivoting smoothly, he swept his blade up in a broad defensive arc. Shii-Cho's wide motions were ideal for battling multiple foes. The push had knocked back the Dark Jedi Master, giving Tyson a moment to focus on the other attacks hurtling toward him.

The overhead slash was closer, nearly upon him. But the lunging thrust was a smaller target for deflection. Blocking one would leave him skewered or slashed by the other. So Tyson spun to the side instead, evading the stabbing blade and moving clear of its range. His motion interposed the slashing Dark Jedi between himself and the other attacker. As the Jedi brought his sizzling saber down, following Tyson's movement, his attack was parried by the sweep of Tyson's lightsaber.

Tyson shifted his stance, narrowing his focus to the two immediate threats before him. The Dark Jedi Master had recovered his footing and now stood to Tyson's left, while the other Dark Jedi remained directly ahead, forming a straight line with the third foe who lingered further back. Their inline position blocked the third Dark Jedi's line of attack, making him a lesser concern for now.

The forward Dark Jedi was nearest, and Tyson marked him as the first target. But then the Force eddied and swirled around the Dark Jedi Master in a gathering storm. Rather than manifesting as a physical attack, the Master channeled the power inward, imbuing himself with supernatural speed. The Master dashed forward, closing the short distance between them. Seizing upon Tyson's momentary distraction, the closer Dark Jedi chose that instant to strike. Once more Tyson found himself facing simultaneous attacks from two fronts. But his previous tactic of dodging to the side would not suffice this time. The Dark Jedi Master moved too fast to evade.

Tyson's eyes darted between the two incoming threats, assessing angles and trajectories in the space of a heartbeat. He did not fall back in the face of the dual threat. Instead, he changed targets and moved toward the Dark Jedi Master as fast as he could. The Master, who was already dashing with Force-enhanced speed, did not expect his prey to charge directly at him. Though he adapted quickly, Tyson's bold move threw off the Master's rhythm. He raised his lightsaber high, ready to cut Tyson down. But Tyson fired a blaster bolt low, aiming for the Master's legs. His speed put him in a precarious position; his blade poised to strike from above while the bolt sailed toward his lower body.

The Master kept his lightsaber aimed to kill. He shifted his hips to dodge the bolt, but the sudden movement left him off-balance. Tyson swung his lightsaber upward, but the Master smiled.

Tyson's blade was too low to block the killing stroke from the Master's saber.

Or so he thought.

The Dark Jedi Master's blood-red blade sliced downward, poised to cleave Tyson's skull in two. But at the last possible moment, Tyson's personal shield hummed to life. An invisible barrier of energy flared around him, and the Master's lightsaber skittered harmlessly off the shield. The shield deflected the blow of the Dark Jedi who'd previously been in front as well.

Tyson's crimson blade continued sweeping upward in a tight arc, passing under the Master's descending strike. The Dark Jedi was too slow to react. Tyson's saber sheared through flesh and bone, severing the Master's hand at the wrist. The limb and still-ignited lightsaber tumbled to the ground amidst the Master's agonized scream.

Tyson allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction that faded as he noticed the notification in his HUD. His shield had been overloaded, it wouldn't reactivate until after this round of combat.

Master With Your Hands allowed Tyson to stow his lightsaber faster than anyone could track. In the blink of an eye, Tyson had both blaster pistols drawn again. He unleashed a relentless barrage upon the Dark Jedi, driving them backward step by step. His sole intent was to carve out space between himself and his foes. With the same blinding speed, Tyson holstered one pistol. His boot crushed the severed hand of the Dark Jedi Master, releasing the still-ignited lightsaber trapped within its death grip. Tyson snatched up the crimson blade even as he blindly fired off three rapid shots from his remaining blaster. The bolts pierced the Dark Jedi Master's chest, ending the man's life.

Tyson stowed the blaster and claimed the other red lightsaber. Now wielding a blade in each hand, he turned to face the two remaining Dark Jedi. The glow of the paired weapons cast bloody highlights across Tyson's armor, mirroring the predatory grin that split his face.

The Dark Jedi's eyes narrowed as he sensed the flickering of Tyson's personal shield. "His shield generator is overloaded," he hissed to his comrade. "He's vulnerable." The Force swirling around the Dark Jedi, his anger and hatred fueling his connection to the dark side.

The second Dark Jedi hesitated, his gaze flickering between Tyson and his fallen comrades. With a resigned sigh, he disengaged his lightsaber, the brilliant red blade extinguishing with a soft hiss. "I yield," he declared, taking a cautious step backward.

Tyson nodded curtly at the surrendering Dark Jedi, his focus shifting to the remaining opponent. The Dark Jedi's face twisted into a snarl of rage, his lightsaber held in a defensive stance as he circled warily.

"You think you've won?" the Dark Jedi spat. "You're nothing but a pretender, a pathetic insect playing at being a true Sith."

Tyson remained silent, his eyes tracking the Dark Jedi's movements as he waited for an opening. The Dark Jedi's anger was palpable, a seething torrent of hatred that threatened to consume him.

"You wield our weapons, but you know nothing of the true power of the dark side," the Dark Jedi taunted. "You're a fool, and your arrogance will be your undoing."

The Dark Jedi let loose a feral roar, his rage unfurling as he unleashed a flurry of vicious strikes. His crimson lightsaber became a blur of lethal energy as he pressed his assault against Tyson. The confined corridor echoed with the fevered clashing of plasma blades.

Tyson met each blow with a calm parry, his twin blades moving in a graceful, fluid dance to deflect each wild attack. While the Dark Jedi's strikes were fueled by uncontrolled fury, Tyson remained composed, his focus absolute as he turned aside strike after strike with effortless precision.

Sensing an opening in the Dark Jedi's chaotic barrage, Tyson launched a blistering counterattack. His paired lightsabers swept out in a high arching flourish, then snapped low in a viper-quick reverse. The Dark Jedi scrambled backward, desperate to evade the deadly blades. With a well-timed sweep, Tyson locked blades with the Dark Jedi, then whipped his second blade around the Dark Jedi's faltering guard.

The Dark Jedi jerked his arm back just in time to avoid dismemberment, but Tyson's angled lightsaber forced him to release his grip on his own weapon. As the plasma blade tumbled downward, the Dark Jedi spun and snatched for it in desperation. But Tyson was faster, lashing out with a powerful front kick that sent the Dark Jedi sprawling back in a tangle of robes.

The Dark Jedi's lightsaber clattered across the durasteel floor, the sound echoing through the corridor like a tolling bell. Disarmed and at Tyson's mercy, the Dark Jedi stared up in shocked defeat, eyes wide with fear at this unexpected humiliation.

The crimson glow of Tyson's twin lightsabers cast foreboding shadows across his armored form as he advanced on the cowering Dark Jedi. The Dark Jedi raised his hands in a pathetic gesture of surrender, his entire body trembling with fear.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice breaking as he stared up at the impassive mask of Tyson's helmet. "Show mercy."

Silence fell over the durasteel corridor, interrupted only by the low hum of the lightsabers and the Dark Jedi's ragged, panicked breathing. Tyson considered the man's desperate plea, giving no indication of his thoughts behind the expressionless facade of his helmet.

After a long moment, Tyson finally responded, his voice dripping with contempt. "Mercy? Is that the way of the Sith?"

With those biting words, Tyson disengaged one of his crimson blades and returned it to the sheath across his back. He bent down and retrieved the Dark Jedi's fallen lightsaber, fastening it to his belt. Then, turning his back on the whimpering man, Tyson strode back toward Darth Malak, leaving the defeated Dark Jedi alive but humiliated.

Darth Malak's eyes narrowed as he regarded the defeated Dark Jedi. "Mercy?" The Sith Lord's voice dripped with disdain. "For those who tried to kill you?"

Tyson met Malak's gaze without flinching, his expression unreadable behind the impassive mask of his helmet. "We're at war," he stated, his tone matter-of-fact. "Sith or not, I'll not waste resources that could be turned toward the war effort."

A heavy silence fell over the corridor as Malak considered Tyson's pragmatic response. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Malak gave a slow, approving nod.

"Well spoken," Malak rumbled. "You grasp the harsh realities of our struggle." His gaze shifted to the Dark Jedi who had surrendered, the man still cowering on the floor. "And what of this one?"

Tyson followed Malak's line of sight, his eyes falling upon the trembling form of the disarmed Dark Jedi.

"You're assigned to guard the prisoner," Tyson declared, his voice ringing with cold authority. "Consider it a reassignment more...suited to your capabilities. You were defeated by a mere trooper, so now you may do the duties of a mere trooper.

The Dark Jedi flinched as if struck, his eyes going wide with shock and humiliation. To be relegated to such a menial duty was the ultimate disgrace for a Sith. His face contorted with anger and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but a warning look silenced him.

Grudgingly, the Dark Jedi rose unsteadily to his feet, shooting a venomous glare at Tyson before stalking off to carry out his demeaning new assignment. The other Dark Jedi followed in his wake. The corridor fell silent in their departure.

Malak watched the Dark Jedi depart. "You wield the lightsaber with surprising skill for one untrained in its ways," he mused, turning his attention back to Tyson. "And you grasp the principles of keeping your lessers...humble."

The Sith Lord began a slow, appraising circle around Tyson, studying him from all angles. "You could prove a valuable asset to our cause," Malak continued. "If you're willing to commit yourself fully to the path of the dark side."

Tyson remained motionless, his lightsabers held at the ready as he tracked Malak's movements with wary eyes. The Dark Lord's words carried the unmistakable weight of an offer.

"The choice is yours," Malak declared, coming to a stop before Tyson once more. His eyes bored into the impassive facade of Tyson's helmet as if seeking to pierce the veil and gaze into the man's very soul. "Swear yourself to my teachings, and you will taste true mastery over the Force. Refuse..." He allowed the unspoken threat to hang in the air between them.

The corridor fell silent as Tyson considered Malak's ultimatum. Swear allegiance to the Sith Lord, or face the consequences of defiance. Tyson's eyes narrowed behind his helmet as he mulled over the choice before him.

Then his HUD flickered with a notification. His energy shield had recharged.

This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Malak stood before him, isolated, with no other Sith reinforcements nearby. If he struck now, while the Dark Lord was unaware and overconfident, he might be able to defeat this powerful enemy. He could attack in the blink of an eye, catch Malak off guard with a sudden, vicious assault. The Dark Lord may be strong with the Force, but even he couldn't deflect what he couldn't anticipate.

But then a fleeting thought gave Tyson pause. Malak was a Sith Lord. Could Tyson face him in single combat with his small understanding of the Force? Was that a risk worth taking or should he free Vicky first and face him and wait for better odds?

As if sensing Tyson's internal conflict, Malak arched an inquisitive brow ridge. "Well?" the Dark Lord prompted. "What is your decision? Do not keep me waiting."

Tyson's eyes flicked back to his HUD, watching as the energy shield indicator pulsed a reassuring green. Tyson could strike at any moment, but should he?

If it came to a duel, he wasn't sure if his fledgling grasp of the Force would be enough to best a Sith Lord like Malak. But more pressingly than defeating Malak was preventing the bombing of Taris. If Malak believed Bastila was his captive and that Tyson would become his new apprentice, the Dark Lord would have no reason to rain destruction on the planet below. Securing both a powerful new acolyte and the Jedi prize he sought, there was no reason for the genocide.

Vicky's message flashed across Tyson's HUD.

Oh. Looks like we're going to be turning to the Dark Side. Did you like my goth look that much?

Tyson smiled inwardly. If playing the part of Malak's apprentice meant protecting the people of Taris, he would do what he must. He might even gain valuable insights into the Force and the inner workings of the Sith. While Tyson's Perks granted him access to the force, he was still untrained and had room to grow.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Tyson straightened his shoulders and met Malak's penetrating gaze head-on. "I will follow your teachings, Lord Malak," he declared, "Show me the path to true mastery."

A slow, predatory smile spread across Malak's disfigured features. "A wise choice," he purred in a tone that bordered on condescending. "Though you will find the road ahead...arduous. The dark side is a harsh mistress that demands unwavering commitment."

The Dark Lord gestured for Tyson to follow him.

"Come," he commanded, turning on his heel. "We will begin your instruction immediately."

With a swirl of his cloak, Malak strode off down the dimly lit corridor. Tyson hesitated for a heartbeat, his hand drifting his blaster pistol. Malak had his back turned, exposed. But after a moment's pause, he followed after the Sith Lord, the opportunity to strike left behind.

For now.

Tyson fell into step behind Malak. He could sense the Dark Lord's eagerness to begin shaping and molding this new prospective student.

Malak's imposing figure strode into the command center. His presence commanded the immediate attention of all the officers present, conversations dying away as they turned to face the Dark Lord. Behind Malak, Tyson followed silently, still clad in the nondescript armor of a Sith trooper.

Admiral Karath stood at rigid attention as Malak approached, his posture betraying none of the apprehension he felt in the Sith Lord's presence.

"Admiral," Malak's voice rasped from beneath the menacing metal jaw grafted to his face, the prosthetic giving his speech a chilling metallic edge. "This is my new apprentice."

Karath's gaze shifted to study Tyson. His surprise at Malak's revelation was quickly masked. "What was your trooper designation?" he inquired, eyes narrowing.

"TY50N." Tyson answered steadily, holding the Admiral's scrutinizing look. "Sorry, sir. Didn't know I could be a Jedi."

Karath's brow furrowed slightly. "That's a strange designation," he remarked thoughtfully, examining Tyson more closely. "It was too good to be true, soldier."

Malak's voice was heavy with gravity as he proclaimed, "Your designation is not a suitable name for a Sith acolyte. We shall call you Darth Typhon." The Dark Lord proclaimed.

Tyson nodded, accepting his new title with a solemn incline of his head.

Malak turned to Karath, his voice taking on a tone of approval. "Typhon seems to have a head on his shoulders when it comes to understanding a leader's burden in war," he said, his words measured and deliberate. "Begin teaching him he'd need to know about our war effort."

Karath bowed his head, acknowledging the order with a crisp "Yes, Lord Malak." He turned to Tyson with a serious expression and beckoned the newly christened Darth Typhon to follow him.

As they moved to a nearby console, Karath began to speak, his voice taking on a lecturing tone as he delved into the intricacies of fleet movements and supply lines. Tyson listened intently, absorbing the information with a keen mind and a determined focus.

Karath brought up holographic displays of star systems and trade routes. "The key to successful space combat lies in understanding the flow of resources," he explained, gesturing to the glowing maps before him. "By disrupting an enemy's supply lines, you can cripple their ability to wage war."

Tyson followed the paths of the trade routes and hyperspace lanes as they wound their way through the galaxy. He could see the strategic value in Karath's words, the importance of cutting off an opponent's lifeline before engaging them in battle.

The hours passed with Karath's expertise guiding Tyson through the complexities of space warfare. By the time the lesson drew to a close, Tyson was brimming with new ideas and tactics.

Malak returned, his presence commanding Tyson and Karath's attention as he approached. "You have done well, Admiral," Malak rumbled, his voice a low growl of approval. Karath bowed his head in humble acceptance, murmuring "Thank you, Lord Malak."

Turning to Tyson, Karath's eyes glimmered with a newfound respect. "You have much yet to learn, Darth Typhon," he said solemnly, his tone serious but not unkind. "But it seems you are learning quickly. With time, I believe you will become a formidable commander."

Tyson met the Admiral's gaze steadily. "Thank you, Admiral," he replied, his voice ringing with conviction. "I will become the weapon needed to crush my enemies."

Satisfaction was evident in Malak's tone. "See that you do, Typhon," he said, "The future of the Sith depends on the strength and cunning of its leaders."

With those final portentous words, Malak turned and strode from the command center.

After giving Karath a respectful final nod, Tyson turned and followed in Malak's wake.

— Star Jumper —

The trio of Carth, Canderous, and Avner made their way down the corridor. Following Davik's directions, to the slave quarters, they turned north when the hallway bent, coming to a stop outside a nondescript door. Carth activated the door control and it slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a modest chamber beyond. Inside, three female Twi'lek slaves turned to regard the new arrivals. Their lekku draped over bare shoulders and down shapely backs.

Among the exotic Twi'leks stood a striking green-skinned woman. Her beauty surpassed even that of the lovely aliens.

Her full hips swung enticingly as she approached the group. When she spoke, her voice was thick and sweet like warm honey.

"Welcome to the slave quarters, master," she purred, batting long lashes over violet eyes. "Here we have succulent fruits and berries to tempt your palette, as well as luxurious baths to soothe your aches and pains."

Canderous' grin split his face as his gaze roamed appreciatively over the scantily clad slaves. "Heh, now this is my kind of place!" he declared.

Avner studied the green-skinned woman thoughtfully. He sensed there was more to this slave than her obvious physical charms.

One of the female Twi'leks approached Carth, her hips swaying seductively, while the other smiled and sauntered towards Canderous. "Whatever your desire, we are here to serve," the first Twi'lek said.

"We exist only to serve," the other added, her fingers trailing lightly over Canderous' arm.

Avner, however, focused his attention on the green-skinned woman. As she approached, her movements were subtly seductive. She was a vision of exotic beauty. Her eyes locked onto Avner's, drawing him in with their intensity.

When she reached out, her fingers brushed lightly against Avner's arm. He found himself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She smiled then, her full, luscious lips parting to reveal perfect white teeth.

"I need some information," Avner said.

The slave whispered conspiratorially, "But...what could I possibly tell you? It is forbidden for slaves to leave this room on pain of torture and death."

Avner smiled reassuringly. "Tell me what you can and I'll make sure to tell Davik how pleased I was with your performance."

"Praise from the guests is valuable here. Davik rewards the slaves who perform their duties well. I will tell you what I know."

"You know," she whispered, her breath warm against Avner's ear, "I could make your stay here very... enjoyable."

The scent of her perfume filled Avner's nostrils. It was intoxicating, and for a moment, he forgot all about the mission.

He shook his head, forcing his mind to return to the task at hand despite the slave woman's sensual allure. "Tell me what you know," he said, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

The woman pouted, causing her full lower lip to jut out. The sight was juvenile but in her, undeniably sexy. "Very well," she sighed, trailing delicate fingers down his chest. "Davik rarely allows us slaves to leave these quarters. We only know what we overhear from his guests. Lately, they have all been gossiping about poor Hudrow."

She leaned in closer, her warm breath tickling Avner's ear as she continued. "He was caught trying to steal spice from the lab. Normally, Davik lets Hudrow get away with such things since he's the personal pilot for Davik's ship, the Ebon Hawk. But with the Sith grounding all vessels planetwide, Hudrow's special privileges have dried up."

Avner suppressed a shudder as her soft lips grazed the edge of his ear. "I believe you can reach the torture chambers by passing through the hall behind the west door of Davik's throne room," she whispered throatily. "Just continue west from the slave quarters, and you'll come upon the throne room. But Davik will certainly have guards patrolling. If they catch you outside the guest quarters, they'll gun you down on the spot."

Avner nodded, trying in vain to focus on her vital intelligence rather than the intoxicating press of her body against his. "Thank you for the information," he managed through gritted teeth, his voice taut with restrained passion.

Avner's pulse quickened as the green-skinned woman smiled alluringly, her eyes glinting with unspoken promises. Her fingers toyed with his collar, sending electricity through him.

"If you're leaving this planet, I'd very much like to come with you," she purred, her body pressing closer. "I'd be so appreciative. And I think you'll enjoy how I show my appreciation."

Avner glanced over at Carth and Canderous. Silent understanding passed between them, and they nodded. It was clear they would not leave the planet without this mysterious beauty.

Avner turned back to the woman, desire simmering within him. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"D'Lavina," she replied.

Avner nodded slowly, transfixed. They had obtained the information they sought, but now they had another reason to succeed in their mission.

As they turned to leave the slave quarters, D'Lavina's full lips curved into a seductive smile. It was a tantalizing promise of pleasures to come. Excitement coursed through Avner's veins. He knew they would prevail, and looked forward to how D'Lavina would show her appreciation.