The Force Wills - Chapter 66 (Patreon)

The New Mando end of year celebration feast was in full swing in the large audience hall of the palace in Sundari. Dozens of circular tables with guests seated, talking, eating and drinking with superb manners, dressed in their ‘evening best’. Waiters constantly buzzed around refilling drinks and in the background a constant soothing music reached every ear.

Once again I joined the head table, which this time included Satine and six other ministers with their significant others seated next to them.

My ‘plus one’ for the evening was Korkie.

The chain of events leading up to that happening was something I had seen coming, but I found myself neatly outmaneuvered in political and practical terms to stop it. I could’ve just said ‘NO’, but that had a cost I wasn’t willing to pay.

For all that Satine was an arch-pacifist, never let it be said that she wasn’t a shrewd political operator when she put her ideals to the side for a moment.

In this case, she saw Korkie’s crush and instead of stamping it out or forbidding it, which wouldn’t work, decided to use it.

What better way for the current political order to be further legitimized than if Kryze and Vizsla, two houses that had been on opposite sides of the civil war, found common ground and were bound by alliance and even blood.

I would be bellowing with incredulous laughter right now and slamming my fists on the table if it wouldn’t be a total faux pas in the social setting I was in right now.

Kryze, the spearhead of the New Mandos, Vizsla, the clan which firmly held to the Way and from which all the traditionalists took their queue.

Right now, tongues were wagging all over the hall and everyone with an ounce of political acumen could see the game at play.

I knew what I wanted to see the Mandalore sector become, especially in terms of military power, which Satine would naturally oppose at every juncture. She also had a good idea at this point of my vision and goals. Now she was dangling a carrot in front of me, to put her executive stamp of approval on so many military and infrastructure projects that I was championing.

The price, join Vizsla to Kryze.

Korkie knew what his ‘aunt’ was doing of course.

He was roughly seventeen and an honors student in the Royal Academy of Sundari until the drums of war had sounded. The art of politics was almost the sole reason that the academy existed. He’d been raised in New Mando ideals which championed merit, yet among the upper echelons, marriage between houses solely for financial or political gain remained.

Even though the Resol’nare didn’t say anything explicit, familial alliance was standard practice for thousands of years at this point. As much as a supreme Manda’lor could unite every clan under a banner, the bonds of blood method was as old as humanity. Even from a traditional togruta point of view, the same thing was practiced, though it was increasingly rare as Shili’s urbanized society grew.

Therefore from Korkie’s view, there were no downsides to being used like this. He was already infatuated with me, so a bloody arranged marriage for the benefit of all Mandalore had no problems in his mind.

No, the only problems existed on my part.

I did not love Korkie.

How could I?

From my point of view, he was just too young. Sure, give him two years to mature nicely, get some military experience under his belt, grow into a man and… maybe?

Oh for frak sake!

For these kinds of marriages, love was the farthest thing from consideration. It was pure luxury amongst any kind of aristocracy.

Yet here I was, smack in the middle of finding myself in charge of an influential House in the Mandalorian political system, the Mandalorian Jedi, wielder of the Darksaber, an unwed female, just perfectly positioned to help join the two most powerful clans on either side of the political divide.

I knew bringing peace to this sector would come at a personal cost to me, yet it seemed that I was not done paying that cost by a long shot.

I kept my friendly yet neutral mask foremost on my face as I listened politely to Korkie’s conversation with Satine. They were discussing the potential impact of the surprise defeat of Saam’s Deregulation Bill and the introduction of Senator Organa’s War Bond Bill as a method of financing the war effort that wouldn’t see the Republic beggared into bankruptcy.

“It’s a good idea in principle, a voluntary extra ‘tax’ for a specific undertaking that the people commit to,” Satine said, drinking some wine from a tall glass. “Of course, I can just imagine that in the future, the Senate will try to delay or even stop these bonds from ever being paid back to the citizenry.”

“That’s rather pessimistic, but realistic,” Korkie shook his head sadly.

“They’ll just pass a law that extends the bond’s payout date or even get rid of that date, then to save political face, will reward interest to the bondholders… at a rate that’s ridiculously low. However, that will not happen when we introduce our version of a bond in the Mandalore sector.”

Korkie frowned in thought and ate a bit of meat, “You wish bonds to help fund more settlement creation on the planet.”

“It’ll be an end to the population guidance measures we’ve had to adopt, we can even begin thinking of investing in the effort to heal Mandalore into the world it once was, and not an endless blasted desert.”

“That would be a worthy effort that would convince me to buy a bond.”

“And what do you think, Manda’lor Vizsla?” Satine asked me with an arched brow.

“The idea of a society investing in itself has my full support, duchess. As long as the bonds are not devalued over time by various measures and short sighted politicians. If the citizens lose confidence that the bonds are being used properly, then they won’t buy them in the future and the proceeds from bond sales dry up. They then become useless as an instrument of investment for the government that issues them.”

“Good point, Manda’lor,” Satine’s gaze ranged over the various ministers at the table, her eyes speaking volumes to them without saying a word.

Far from being guests of honor at Satine’s table at this banquet, these particular politicians in her government had somehow found themselves on her shit list. How was putting them here punishment? It was publicly showing that she didn’t trust them and wanted them ‘close’ to keep an eye and ear on them.

I was there simply because Satine wanted Korkie’s conversation at this table and to show off this potential new union between Kryze and Vizsla.

Naturally, I didn’t roll over on my belly for her.

If she truly wanted this, then both Togai and I were going to milk the deal for everything it was worth and then some.

I also thumbed my nose at her in a more petty manner by turning up to this banquet in the extremely risqué dress I had gotten on Raxus.

Korkie had practically choked on his saliva when I had come down the central staircase of the Vizsla estate wearing it.

The look on Satine’s face when she saw me also made it quite worth enduring Korkie’s enamored stare not to mention the leers of quite a few faces around the banquet.

Anakin’s bond opened from his side and he sent me the mental equivalent of a ‘ping’.

I opened the bond, ‘One moment, master.’

“I think some fresh air is in order, if I can please be excused from the table, duchess?”

Satine frowned slightly but then politely nodded, “Of course, manda’lor.”

I gathered the lower skirts of my dress to stand in a way that wouldn’t see me give a few of the elderly men at the table heart attacks.

Korkie had sensed my desire for a bit of solitude and remained seated, giving me a slight smile. I was thankful he had picked up on that.

My TK was at work on the edges of my dress to keep me decent as I walked with purpose to the nearby doors, which led out onto a balcony that overlooked the greater interior of the Sundari city dome. The view would be amazing if I was a fan of artificial environments designed to be pretty and blocky.

‘Yes, master. Go ahead.’

‘Do please explain why the CIS Navy would turn the bulk of its guns on a Providence dreadnought in the middle of a battle. I refuse to believe that they would do it just to kill either Obi-Wan or myself.’

‘Were they going to lose, Skyguy?’

‘Well, yes, we were inflicting losses on them, they were hitting us, but the momentum and initiative was on our side. Then they suddenly blast their own dreadnought into scrap and retreat.’

‘And the fact that you were on said dreadnought at the time means that you both went on a fighter jaunt, when you were supposed to be on the bridges of your flagships.’

‘Snips, you like being fleet commander, I like to fly. Yularen had things well in hand. Besides, even Ventress was out there in a fighter, which was why Obi-Wan and I went out there in the first place.’

‘Fine. Answer this question, who could give such an order to the CIS droids and have them actually destroy a 400 million credit starship?”

‘Dooku.’

‘Precisely, and why would he want to kill his own Sith apprentice?’

Anakin knew enough about the enemy to draw the correct conclusion. ‘She was becoming too powerful.’

‘Yes, but not for Dooku. No, she was becoming too powerful for the likes of Sidious. The role of the Sith apprentice is to eventually challenge and kill the master. Sidious clearly doesn’t want Ventress to be used as a weapon by Dooku against him.’

‘So the entire thing, losing a fleet battle and dreadnought, was just a test of loyalty? For Dooku?’

‘Correct.’

‘That’s insane. Surely, he could’ve just ordered her back and then killed her personally. It would certainly be more… economical.’

‘You’re thinking practically and that is not something Sith do when it comes to power. Dooku is not someone who likes to get his hands dirty when he can help it and the loss of Sullust is not the end of the galaxy for the enemy or even the CIS. Given fleet disposition, the Republic can only hold and consolidate the new position at Sullust. There isn’t enough strength in the south to roll over multiple systems on the trot.’

‘Well, at least we don’t have to worry about Ventress anymore then.’ I pointedly didn’t say anything in reply. “Oh… you have to be joking!”

‘Sorry Skyguy, she’s still alive.’

‘There were no nearby escape pods, her own fighter was in pieces on the hangar deck, how…’

‘Have you actually looked at the schematics of the fighter she was flying, Skyguy?’

‘No… hang on, it was a fantail… let’s check… Oh, redundant power systems and independent thrusters, the cockpit doubles as a full escape pod. So it’s plausible she’s alive at least…’

‘Skyguy, as far as your official report is concerned, she’s dead,’ I thought pointedly.

‘Snips… no. No way. You want her for Fulcrum?!’

‘The galaxy is now a very hostile place for her, Skyguy. She’ll never be a friend but I want her at least as an ally. The enemy wanted her dead for a reason, that is enough for me to make sure she stays alive. I want her efforts pointed in the right direction and not causing more problems in the long run.’

‘I can sense you’ve made up your mind and nothing I’m going to say will convince you otherwise.’

‘The intel she will have on Dooku’s inner workings is too valuable to just leave unused on the board. That is why someone is already on the way to intercept her.’ My comlink vibrated in the hidden pocket of my dress. ‘Sorry, master, I’ve got a call to attend to.’

‘We’ll have more words about this later… nice dress, by the way.’

‘Thank you, fly safe, master.’

I shut the bond on my side and fished out the comlink before slapping it on my inner wrist.

The tiny holo of HK-47 appeared above my hand.

“Report, HK.”

“Statement: Attempted assassination plot has been prevented, master.”

“Good, what was it this time?”

“Answer: The assassin infiltrated the Mandalorian Guard, eliminating a guardsman and then posed as one of the counter-snipers that was stationed around the palace.”

“A rather ironic plan. Is he still alive?”

“Answer: Yes, master. My own shot was precisely on target, in accordance with your orders.”

Good, but as this was HK I knew the demented droid had taken some sort of liberty with the interpretation of those orders. “Is he at least coherent enough to speak?”

“Explanation: Once one of the Blade meatbags finishes stabilizing him to dull the pain of being shot with a precisely calibrated plasma bolt in the trapezius, he will be most coherent, master.” Blasted, bloody droid.  “Elaboration: There is also the matter that the Mandalorian Guard meatbags are being problematic regarding custody of the assassin meatbag. They are currently in a most delightful argument with your Blade meatbags. Query: Shall I facilitate their dispute, master?”

“No, you bloody well will not!” I shouted in anger. “Adjust your holocom, project my image directly between them.”

The holo hovering above my wrist changed into a small rendering of the Blades on one side, whilst a line of Mando Guard in their gray uniforms with beskar shields and blaster pistols stood on the other.

My perceptions surged through the link and joined with the life sized holo HK was now projecting of me.

Both sides were startled with surprise, cutting off the ensuing argument. Then incredulousness and after a few seconds, appreciation of the visage of me in this dress, though I also sensed disgust from a few of the Mando Guards.

“Enough!” I snapped, letting out a low level Force Push, rocking back everyone slightly on their heels. “Captain Skord.”

The commander of this particular Blade squad stepped forward and saluted with a clenched fist on his chest. “Manda’lor.”

I turned to the Guard, “Captain Cerkai.”

The squad leader in question stepped forward and bowed his head. “Manda’lor.” His surprise that I even knew his name was clear.

The entire confrontation was taking place in one of the buildings that bordered the palace grounds. As much as security would dictate that no tall buildings should be within a few kilometers, there just wasn’t enough space in Sundari for that.

Behind the line of Blades, a medic was hard working on the assassin; applying bacta, pain killers and encasing one arm in a splint to immobilize it.

“Let me guess,” I turned to Cerkai. “He murdered a guardsman in the process of infiltrating you and you wish primary jurisdiction.”

“Correct, Manda’lor. The crime happened in Sundari, not Concordia, the law is clear.”

I nodded, “Ordinarily you are correct. The Blades’ mandate, however, is to protect the Mandalore sector from external and internal threats.” I turned to Skord. “DNA profile on the assassin?”

He looked at Cerkai with annoyance, “As I was trying to explain to the good captain of the Guard, one of the first things our medic did was run a database search against the citizen register. The assassin is human but not a Mandalorian citizen. We will need to run it against Republic sources for a proper identification. It’s therefore likely that this was a CIS plot to assassinate someone at the end of year celebration.”

“Which neatly turns this into a Blade matter, however,” I interrupted Cerkai who was puffing up with air like a blowfish. “As we have a dead guardsman on our hands, this will be a joint investigation with the Guard. Will that be satisfactory, Captain?”

He scowled and seemed to take in the entire situation with his eyes again before reluctantly nodding, “Very well, Manda’lor. Joint investigation. I just hope the Guard Commander will not object.”

“You are the responsible officer on scene,” I said matter-of-factly. “If Guard Commander Fytt wants to begin doubting his subordinates, that’s not my problem. If he makes it my problem, I will take this straight to the duchess. As the assassin was targeting her event anyway, I’ll just walk ten meters behind me and inform her after I get off this com line.”

All the Mando Guardsmen winced. Satine was actually their true ‘commander’ and she had the full right to pull any of them in front of the throne and dress them down to size for failures or disputes with the other services.

Olul Fytt was by all accounts a gold plated, pain in the ass who was good at his job and if rumors are to be believed, a person who overly appreciated the fairer sex. I had so far thankfully avoided meeting him or even talking to him over a holo, but that was looking like it would soon change.

“Will the Manda’lor insist on HK-47 remaining with the investigation?” Cerkai nervously looked at the droid who’s holoprojector my visage was emanating from.

“As much as the droid is an expert interrogator, I want this assassin to be presentable afterwards. HK, report back to the Vizsla estate when you’ve gathered your equipment.”

“Reluctant Agreement: Very well, master. Back to training the young meatbag it is.”

“Thank you, Manda’lor,” Cerkai said with visible relief.

“Is there any other problems that you wish to bring forward? Skord?” Both men shook their heads. “Good, carry on.”

I pulled my perceptions back and cut the comlink. Then leaned forward on the balcony railing and stared into the distance, just taking in the view and the thousands of air cars streaming back and forth in their lanes.

A knock on the balcony’s glass door reached my montrals. I absently raised a finger and twitched it, using TK to unlatch the door and swing it open. “You can join me, Korkie.”

A gave a glance behind me as he stood framed in the doorway.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

He stood at a respectable 1.76 meters tall and was likely to still grow taller, blue eyes, handsome face, and the nose of his mother. Merging the best features from the father and the mother. He filled out his Coruscanti inspired formal suit decently and with more training to come he would do even better. He wouldn’t be gracing any front covers of a girly magazine, but 98% of males also fell into that category.

“Manda’lor…  Ahsoka? Are you alright?”

“Just dealing with business, nothing to worry you about,” I said with a wan smile.

“Sorry, it’s just… I felt that something was off, wrong…” he stepped closer, uncertain how to ascribe words to it.

“It’s good that you’re opening yourself, applying your lessons, just be mindful of acting on what you learn. Sometimes it’s best to just let things play out, instead of poking your nose into it. It’s something that will only come with time and experience.”

He now stood next to me on the balcony, leaning against the railing. “And you have experience?”

“Well, a year in a war tends to make you leave childhood fast behind, but I also have thousands of years of Jedi experience and teaching to fall back on.”

He looked off into the distance and I could feel the turmoil, which had been simmering in the back of his mind all evening, come forward. “Ahsoka… I’m sorry. I’ve realized… how terribly unfair this is to you.” His breathing and heart was bursting now with an anxious nervousness.

“It is, but the universe is not fair by design,” I sighed wearily. “As a Jedi, I am traditionally forbidden from ‘attachments’, such as marriage. I had just never thought I’d ever have to worry about a marriage, husband or children. There are exceptions allowed only in the case where the Jedi has a political lineage that needs to be continued or their species are endangered with a low birth rate. I will neatly fall into the former category now. Your aunt has done her research well.”

“I just feel… At first I was ecstatic about the idea. It just seemed perfect. Now I can actually sense the feelings of everyone around me and… you’re actually angry about it.”

“I’m not angry at you, Korkie. I had hoped, perhaps foolishly, to actually find love.” Stupid heart. Why did you have to go and fall for Padme? Talk about unrealistic and unrequited.

“And you can’t see yourself ever feeling that for me?”

Fuck.

“Korkie, in a marriage like ours would be, you do know what eventually happens.”

His lips thinned, “Paramours.”

“Could you stand the thought that I had one? Consequently, would I be able to tolerate the thought that you have a mistress? No, don’t think it won’t happen, Korkie. We are both still young, you might think you are in love with me now, but in a year, two or ten years, you might find the woman who steals your heart truly.” Oh, how quickly the wheel turns.

“I might not and I’m already looking at one who has it,” he retorted.

Now I was really feeling wretched, but I made sure to hide it from his neophyte perceptions. “Only time will tell. Now, I think it’s time I went back inside. Social conventions to maintain, after all.” Lively music began playing throughout the hall, which spilled out onto the balcony. “How’s your dancing?”

“I’m versed in all the forms,” he replied promptly, doing a reasonable job of controlling his emotions.

“Good, I’m not, you will lead and I can follow.”

He nodded and held out his right elbow. I threaded my left hand through and we stepped back into the cauldron of high society, politics and expectations.

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She had known hardship in many forms.

From waiting patiently for hours on her old master, scrubbing floors by hand at a mere four years old, learning to cook with barely any instruction, washing clothes, every menial task that Hal’Sted could possibly dump on her small shoulders. Then under Master Narec, as a teenager, long hours of training, learning the Jedi arts, patience, meditation - which she could never master properly. Then when he had died, the scrabble of living on the streets of Rattatak from hand to mouth, using the Force to aid in stealing food, embracing the Dark Side to get revenge on all the weequay scum that had killed her master.

Then even with the power with which she had nearly conquered the entire planet, she had failed to kill that bastard Kirske… the humiliation of being enslaved again with an explosive collar, all the depravities he had visited on her, then fighting in a gladiatorial arena.

Then came Dooku, who saw her potential, who finally killed Kirske to free her and brought about her true ascension into the Dark and the Sith.

Now the wheel had turned again, she was free of Dooku. He believed her dead and that would be his own downfall.

With all that behind her, how could this situation suddenly feel intolerable?

For hours Asajj had gone from scrap dealer to dealer on Gallimimus station, trying to sell off the salvage. The first one didn’t even give her the time of day, saying he only bought from those he knew. The second one offered a ridiculously low value that would barely give her enough credit to fill up the Crusher’s tanks to a quarter. She had been sorely tempted to behead him right there, even though the dealership had been filled with customers. The story was the same for the following three stores and now as she stood in her sixth dealership for the day, waiting in a queue, the hold on her anger was fraying dangerously.

The Dark Side was frothing and cloying, practically begging to be used on every single sentient in front of her.

Even the Force blind fools around her were beginning to pick up on it.

She bound the beast with yet more chains. It would serve!

She was the master and arbiter of her own fate, not the Dark Side!

Going on a massacre here was pointless, stupid and would see her exposed as being still alive to Dooku and his master.

The door of the dealership hissed open and a group of six sentients entered.

Asajj would’ve dismissed them as yet more customers, were it not for the fact that the Force began to ripple and pulse with agitation at the hostile intent from them.

Four human men, a duros and a trandoshan.

The locals in the dealership also began reacting to the presence of this group - fear, nervousness, apprehension. It began to rise and move through the shop as if it was a wave of emotion passing through everyone.

Asajj pointedly didn’t react and her eyes narrowed at the reaction of the man behind the counter.

His eyes wide with confusion and fear.

There was only one conclusion she could draw; this was a local criminal element. They were either here to collect protection money or…

No, they were here for her.

All their attention was now laser focused on her back and they walked forward as if they owned the entire station. The customers scattered at their approach and Asajj began grinning in anticipation.

“Hey missy,” said the human male in an awful accent, who looked like he was in charge of this enforcement gang. “You arrived here in the Crusher, did ya?”

“What of it?” said Asajj, not even turning around to face them. They had spread out to cut her off from any easy escape out of the front door. They were all dressed in a variety of styles and outfits, implying that none of them lacked money or food, but they all had the air of criminality and scum.

“You see, we know the captain of that bucket. Ol’ Vutrol is a rather good friend of ours, isn’t he, Grac?”

“Yes, boss,” said Grac, the supposed subordinate who stood there with an insufferable smirk.

“In fact, he’s such a good friend that we loaned him twenty thousand credits. That he promised to pay us back within three months.”

Asajj called on the Force and began pulling on the blaster in her bag, working its way to the edge of the flap. She used subtle twitches of her right hand for the fine control to aim its barrel right for the stupid smug face of the gang leader.

“Did he now? Well, Vutrol didn’t tell me,” she said, keeping the conversation going.

“Curious thing that. Seeing as only you and the Crusher is here. Yes, we scanned the ship. So that can only mean one thing.” She couldn’t help but be curious about the conclusion they’d drawn so she allowed him to prattle on. “So how did you steal it from him?”

‘Really? That was it? How disappointing. She’d clearly given the guy too much credit in the brains department.

“That is irrelevant to you,” she said flippantly.

“Downright rude to not face someone when they talk to you, isn’t it, Grac?”

“Yes, boss, very rude.”

“It’s very relevant. You see, depending on your answer, we might just saddle you with Vutrol’s old debt. It’s four months overdue.”

Asajj smirked cruelly, a glint entering her eyes, “So if I told you that I killed him and his crew… that they all died screaming and begging for their pathetic lives. Would that cause you to hold me accountable for his debt?”

The gangers all looked at her with confusion, even apprehension, then the leader started laughing. “Oh, ha ha, that’s good. You want us to believe that a thin thing like you could do that to Vutrol and his crew? No. Try another one, missy.”

She slowly raised her empty right hand.

The tension in all of the gangers and in the shop rose to new heights. All of them tensed as their hands started reaching for their own concealed weapons.

They only relaxed slightly when they saw her hand latching onto her hood and pulling it open to reveal her tattooed head and white dathomirian skin. She only turned her head to look at them out of the corner of her eye.

The leader tried to look unintimidated, but his eyes widened at her grim visage, “Nice tattoos, missy.”

“Why thank you. Now, have you decided?”

“Hmmm, tell you what, missy. I’m feeling generous. You give me the Crusher and the local branch of the Black Sun will consider Vutrol’s debt settled.”

He speaks truth, how surprising, she thought.

She wouldn’t have pegged this bunch as belonging to the galaxy spanning criminal syndicate. That brought an entirely new dimension to the burgeoning confrontation. She could ill afford to get on the wrong side of such a big player in the criminal underworld.

“I have a counter-offer, I keep the ship, you take all the salvage Vutrol collected, which is the latest state-of-the-art components and gear from the front lines, which can fetch a pretty high price with the correct buyer. You refuel the Crusher and I go on my way.”

All the gangers started laughing and the leader just started outright guffawing and slapping his thigh with amused hilarity. “Get a load of this. Missy, what kind of school did you go to? Check the markets lately? No way that is remotely the same in value.”

“Oh silly me, I forgot to add the part where you and your colleagues get to keep breathing as well. Would that equalize the value?”

The amusement rapidly faded from their faces and they started scowling.

“That’s not nice, missy. Don’t go cashing credit orders you don’t have the money for.”

“That is the deal, take it and live or don’t and die.”

It’d seem that she’d have to make yet another enemy on her journey to Dathomir. Giving up the ship was not an option and would strand her here unless she could find another suitable ship to steal. It was entirely possible that it would also have the right credentials, but again she couldn’t be sure that it wouldn’t be reported up and down the hyperlane. No, this thug would not take her ship.

The gangers just stared for the longest moment, gritting their teeth and the leader was visibly sweating. His hand slowly moving millimeter by millimeter to the inside of his jacket.

The tension in the shop was thick enough that you could cut it with a lightsaber.

Asajj could feel the moment of decision approaching. The thug could instinctively sense he was not just dealing with a random opponent here or some random dathomiri female from Iridonia or Dathomir. He was also fighting with the need to not appear weak in front of his gangmates.

“Kriff,” he snarled and plunged his hand as fast he could into his jacket. The Black Sun gangers followed, rushing to bring their blasters to bear.

Their reflexes were admirably quick, but they might as well be moving through gelled bacta in comparison to Asajj.

With a thought, the blaster under her control triggered from her bag and she ducked and moved left in a blur, triggering the blaster again and again.

The leader and two of his fellow gangers slumped to the floor in death, the former missing most of his head, whilst the others gained new cauterized holes through their chests right through their hearts.

She found cover just in time behind a large nearby rack of spare parts, when the trandoshan, duros and remaining human brought their own pistols to bear and started firing on her position.

The shots drowned out the screaming of the customers as everyone either fell to the ground to get out of the possible line of fire or rushed for the exit.

She palmed Vutrol’s blaster in less than a second, aimed and fired in answer.

Her opponents weren’t stupid or inexperienced it seemed and were also in the process of moving to the nearest cover. Her fire only succeeded in wounding the trandoshan in the arm as they retreated behind the closest racks.

She gritted her teeth in frustrated anger. In any other situation she’d be already there and slicing them to pieces with her lightsaber. There were just too many witnesses and the possibility of surveillance sensors in the shop. She could sense the perceptions of many shop patrons on the floor, who were frantically looking around to check when it would be safe to make a break for the exit.

Asajj brought her blaster to bear again, firing three times at her opponents to keep them suppressed, preventing them from breaking cover and flanking her.

This provoked a rapid flurry of blasts back on her position, pushing her to a kneeling position to avoid a bolt that snaked through the gaps of the rack and would’ve hit her in the head.

She fired back again, this time managing a hit right on the remaining human as he tried to lean out and fire on her. The shot nailed him right on the hand and not only turned it into a wreck of fried meat and bone, but also sent his blaster tumbling to the floor. He fell to the ground screaming in pain and clutching at his ruined appendage.

In retaliation, the duros fired back with a weapon that looked like a compact autoblaster he had hidden somewhere on his person.

Sparks and small bits of slagged metal rained down on her position.

“Druk!” she cursed, sliding backward and shrugging off her hood and outer jacket, to get rid of the burning metal that was steadily melting through the material.

She slid forward on her knees and from a low position returned fire to send the duros back into cover. Her shots punched holes through the rack, but lost too much energy on the various metal parts to do no more than push them onto her opponents, which they shrugged off.

She then sensed the trandoshan reaching to his jacket and the Force screamed in warning at the destructive potential of what was in his hand now.

He had a thermal detonator.

Was he insane! Had his blaster injury scrambled his senses and wits!

Either its destructive potential was calibrated low or he truly wanted to take her and the entire shop down with him.

The front doors of the dealership opened and from outside a circular stun blue bolt streaked into the shop and slammed straight into the trandoshan’s chest.

The hardy creature wasn’t so easy to put down though and reached with its other hand to twist the detonator to arm it.

There was a whine and two angry orange blaster bolts slammed into its chest and cored straight through.

The duros tried to bring its own autoblaster to bear on their attacker but only received a double ring of stun bolts straight to its face.

The Force simmered and settled down.

Asajj sensed the danger had generally lifted but whoever her ‘savior’ was, they were ready to also instantly gun her down if provoked.

She wearily got to her feet, holding the blaster ready and poked an eye around the rack to see.

Her eyes widened in astonishment and anger.

At first she thought she was looking at Tano herself, but no, this was not a teenager. This was a fully grown togruta female. The patterning of the face, montral and lekku was similar but didn’t match. A family member?

The togruta stepped into the shop, coming into full view, idly twirling two blasters in her hands before settling them into their respective holsters on her belted hips.

Asajj double checked her own mind to make sure she wasn’t being influenced but… yes, she was actually seeing this and hadn’t undergone a psychotic break.

The clicking of high heeled boots echoed through the shop, which had gone deathly silent. The togruta had gray armored shoes with high heels in defiance of all practicality, armored shins that smoothly blended into elegant knee pads. The edges of a blue sock that cushioned the armor peeked above the knee guards.

Between this and the belts that held her weapons, it was the only clothing the togruta wore.

Her long lekku were curled around the edges of her bare breasts and they brushed over the brown pointed nipples as she turned her head left and right to survey the shop. With each strutting step, as if she didn’t have a care in the universe, those breasts bounced and moved with each breath.

Her walk and gait was wide, balanced, the step of a dancing predator, exposing the lush lips of her lower sexual organ without shame or care.

She came to a stop near the middle of the shop, standing between the customers who were still cowering on the floor and looking around with wide eyes, all of them frozen in fear and astonishment.

“Ladies and gentlebeings, scram!”

The togruta’s words rang through the air and the Force.

Everyone wearily got to their feet, before bolting towards the door. The only sound in the room was of booted feet and gasping breaths. The tide of sentients parted around the togruta and none of them even glanced her way twice.

She just stood there with a casual smile and patiently waited, hands on hips and tapping a single heeled boot to the floor, as if she was keeping time for some reason.

When the last sentient had fled, closing the door behind them, the togruta glanced Asajj’s way and smirked.

“Well, Ventress, it didn’t take long for death to follow in your wake.”

She emerged from cover and aimed her blaster straight at her savior’s face, focusing hard on her eyes and probing forward with the Force.

What she found astonished her even more.

Nothing.

The life signature of an ordinary togruta female, no appreciable Force sensitivity whatsoever.

A mind that was filled with dizzying concepts that she had no context for.

“Who are you?” Asajj hissed.

“Captain Abehla Mizal, at your service.”

The woman smiled widely, amusement dancing in her features as she bowed in a wildly extravagant fashion, pushing her right leg back, practically kneeling with her left, quickly bowing at the waist, uncaring for the effect it had on the rest of her body.

Asajj didn’t understand. Her senses giving conflicting information. This insane gunslinger shouldn’t be a threat at all, yet she had clearly felt her use the Force on everyone in the shop, but now she was just normal.

Mizal resumed a more normal stance, but her hip was leaned to the right, emphasizing her long, toned legs. “Now, I suggest that you hurry along and leave the shop. Station security is on the way and I doubt you want to answer their questions or be stuck in an interrogation room.”

She hissed in annoyance, not wanting to lower her blaster an inch. With the Force, Asajj reached out and her bag zoomed through the air and into her grip.

Mizal smirked and turned around, beginning a fast walk out of the dealership.

Asajj snarled in anger at her own uncertainty and indecision, but found herself hurrying along in the wake of the togruta.

They emerged into a long curving corridor that was rapidly emptying of people, the shops on either side shutting their entrances with thick automated security gates. Red emergency lights flickering from strategic points, heralding a silent alarm. Holo displays were also ordering everyone to designated shelters and displaying helpful map overlays.

“Blend into a crowd as best you can, Ventress,” Mizal called behind her.

“Me? What about you?!” Asajj stuffed her blaster into her bag.

“Oh you’re worried about me, how cute.”

They reached a small group of people that had just emerged from a shop shutting its doors and fell in step with them. Asajj tried to project a similar bewildered, panicky expression, all the while carefully analyzing the sentients for any reaction they had to a karking naked togruta gunslinger walking amongst them.

Nothing.

A human male looked straight at her from behind as he was jostled by the evacuating group, yet just kept going. A twi’lek male was right next to her and looked all set to bowl her over, yet he smoothly dodged around her, without seeming even realizing he was doing it. The human female close by also should’ve also reacted, but just seemed to stare right through the togruta.

This had to be some form of Force ability in action, there could be no doubt.

Then why can't I sense it? Asajj thought in anger.

A team of armed station security in gray uniforms rushed towards their little crowd, shouting for them to get out of the way. Asajj pretended to be a good little sentient and followed the herd, moving against the wall of the corridor.

Mizal for her part, also moved with the crowd, but none of the security reacted to her obvious presence either.

The crowd reformed and continued its collective journey to the station’s security shelters.

Asajj’s thoughts raced and swiftly came up with a new plan. She hadn’t tried it before as she was pretending to be a good galactic citizen, but now with station security occupied and everyone being ordered to head to shelters, it would be relatively trivial to steal a fuel refill for the Crusher with a bit of slicing. Override and spoof the local sensors to further hide the theft and just wait out the emergency.

“If you’re thinking of going back to the Crusher, you’ll have to deal with more Black Sun. They’ve locked the ship down with the localized tractor beams,” Mizal said lazily.

“How can you possibly know that?”

“It’s how they operate. If you thought that the local Black Sun presence was limited to that little gang on this station, then the Dark Side has rotted your brain even more than I thought little Sith.”

Asajj gritted her teeth and reached out with the Force to wring the togruta’s neck, subtlety be damned.

Her control seemed to… slide, no… be diverted utterly around Mizal. It was as if she was trying to grasp fog.

“Now, now, Ventress, is that any way to treat someone who just saved your life?” Mizal asked as if she hadn’t just brushed off certain death.

“Who… what are you?” Asajj grumbled, fighting to keep her astonishment and fear from rising. Not even Skywalker and Kenobi could resist her telekinetic control like this. Kriff, she doubted Dooku could either.

“Is your memory also in question? I told you, I’m Captain Mizal. If you need a résumé, I’m a freighter captain, freedom fighter, a traveler of the galaxy making my own way and occasionally lending a hand to souls in need.”

“And you’re a Jedi,” Asajj accused under her breath, knowing the togruta would easily pick up on it.

“I think the Jedi Masters and what’s his name… the small one, green, talks funny…”

“Yoda,” Asajj said in frustration.

“Ah yes, Yoda, would be very surprised if you called me a Jedi, I haven’t met them at all in my entire life.”

“And now I’m suddenly a soul in need?” she asked, her voice thick with sarcasm.

“Of course, on one side the Republic, the other the CIS, and now you’ve run afoul of the Black Sun.”

“And how is it you know so much of me? Or even that I was in trouble in the first place?”

“Well, when you’re as experienced as I am, you pick up a few tricks or two. Not to mention friends, who know more friends, who knows others and so on. Oh, that reminds me, Ahsoka Tano sends her regards,” Mizal giggled for some reason.

“You know her?” Asajj asked the mad captain intently.

“We’re acquainted, now I think we should break off from the pack here, the next turn is the way to the Crusher.”

Mizal turned left as the corridor diverged without hesitation, not even looking to see if Asajj followed.

The dathomirian seeing no other choice, also turned and sprinted to catch up, now walking next to the long strides of the togruta.

“There’s no fuel on board, why else do you think I’m on this station in the first place?”

“They’ve got some good casinos here. There’s also a wonderful exotic dance show that specializes in males, don’t tell me you wouldn’t be tempted?” Mizal grinned like a loon, winking knowingly at Asajj.

“I’m not interested in males or females,” Asajj hissed.

“Ooh, bad history there, I sense. Anyway, we’ll deal with the Black Sun goons watching the ship and then we’ll make a plan regarding refueling.”

Approaching the entrance to the docking bay after a blistering eight minutes of walking, Asajj could sense two very bored thugs waiting at the main entrance.

How Mizal dealt with them was rather anticlimactic. It was a rodian and human male. Both of whom hesitated in astonishment when they saw the nude togruta approaching them. That was all she needed, in a feat of blistering hand speed, to draw both her blaster pistols and hit them with stun bolts.

“Didn’t kill them?” Asajj asked, as Mizal knelt down and began patting the two thugs down, looking for something.

“I’m particular about that,” was the only reply as the captain stood, now holding an access code cylinder. She stepped forward, slotting it into the reader lock on the door. “Figures that the Black Sun has a master key.”

The bay entrance opened and Mizal stepped through, drawing her weapons again.

Asajj pulled out her own blaster and followed as the blasts and whines of blaster shots rapidly echoed through the bay.

She had to immediately dodge a bolt that would’ve burned through her stomach and started shooting at the first target she sensed.

Mizal on the other hand seemed to dance, duck, lean and shoot as she moved through the landing bay. Preternaturally dodging fire exactly as a Jedi would without a lightsaber, only at a level that Asajj knew even a Jedi Master or Dooku would be hard pressed to match.

Asajj nailed an ugnaught wielding a comically oversized rifle in the chest and dodged and ducked two blasts even as Mizal fell into doing the splits, whilst firing forward with her right pistol and shooting blindly behind herself.

The togruta leaned forward and spun herself into a twirl that defied physics, jumping upward, clearly using the Force for some self-levitation, all the while triggering her blasters to stun and kill more foes.

When she landed her heeled boots clicked on the hard floor into a deathly silence.

Just like that… it was over.

Asajj quickly counted over a dozen dead and stunned bodies strewn all over the bay at various spots.

Mizal spun her pistols with a flourish and holstered them, before grinning crazily. “That was fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, little Sith, you do know what that word means? Something sentients do that they enjoy, entertain them and so on.”

“Yes, I know what it means,” Asajj snapped. “Stop calling me that.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to be a Sith anymore? Good to know.”

“No, I mean, yes…” Her head was reeling, why was she feeling this way?

Mizal walked over to the fueling station, pulled out a credit chit from her belt and slotted it in.

“What are you doing?” Asajj asked in annoyance.

“What does it look like? I’m paying for the fuel you need. You sure you don’t need to see a med droid for that eyesight?”

“My eyes are fine!”

“Oh, could’ve fooled me.” Mizal pulled open the armored door set into the bay floor and easily hauled out the heavy fuel hose, carrying the connector head over to the starboard side of the Crusher.

“I mean why are you doing this?”

Mizal slammed the fuel head into the refueling port, twisted the seal and punched the button that started up the pumps aboard the Crusher. “You can thank Ahsoka Tano for that.”

“Why would she help me? I’ve tried to kill her multiple times. I’ve killed Jedi.”

“You should ask her that. I think she’s being incredibly naive and somehow thinks that you still have some actual value in the greater game being played.”

“Yet you’re still helping.”

Mizal turned, her expression changed and suddenly Asajj felt like she was but a porg facing a giant rancor in the Force. “It is that youngling you should thank that I didn’t snuff out your life, little dathomiri.” The impression was there for only an instant and Asajj blinked as she realized she had fallen back on her buttocks.

Then suddenly the crazy smile was back, the togruta folded her arms, “Now, are you going to actually be useful and handle the tractor emitters or do I need to do that as well?”

Asajj wearily rose to her feet, dropped her bag and stomped off for the nearest emitter. Not even worried about turning her back to the crazy togruta anymore, “By the Void, what have I gotten into? What is this?”

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A/N: Alas, working in an Order 66 reference somewhere in this chapter just didn't pan out.  Arranged marriages, ouch, poor Ahsoka. Hope you enjoyed and stay awesome.