Ask The Path to Balance: Courage

[Izel Thral]

Despite their initial success the situation was deteriorating quickly. Between Yulie's wild charge, the incoming blaster fire, the captives begging for their lives and that incessant pounding music Izel could barely focus on her task. The Vratix looked between Yulie and the thugs, trying to speak, but in the end just growled to herself in exasperation and committed to maintaining their defensive screen against the enemy skiff's fire. Her pike was a blur as she twirled it around and around, sending the red streaks of energy off in all directions. She tried to send some of them back at the other skiff, but it just wasn't possible with this volume of fire. It was taking all her concentration just to keep the volleys from hitting her or anyone else.

Finally as the young Dathomirian started to break off her pursuit, only to start making some truly horrendous suggestions of using their captives as living weapons, the insectoid had had enough. With an angered cry she turned her lightsaber towards the deck, slicing clean through the vehicle's booming speakers. There was an explosion of sparks as the tune wailed plaintively before dying out.

"Be quiet! All of you!" She demanded as her head whipped between the Dathomirian and the thugs. It didn't take a Force sensitive to tell her patience was completely spent. There was no time for this nonsense. The Vratix turned her withering glare on Yulie. "I brought you up here because you told me you could handle this task." She said severely. "Were you lying to me?" There would be several moments of inaction where the Jedi simply stared the girl down, expecting some kind of reply. Then a blaster bolt tore through her left side.

Izel cried out in pain and fell forward on her hands for a moment before glancing over her shoulder. The other skiff had turned about and was approaching them now. Another volley of blaster fire peppered the deck, causing the captives to duck and cover their heads. That was that, she couldn't keep on the defensive any longer. If they didn't do something now they were going to die. Which meant she needed to make a choice. Izel took a few breaths and then grunted as she pushed herself back to her feet. However, instead of reassuming Form III this time she tossed her pike up and caught it again so she was holding it over her shoulder, ready to be flung like a javelin. The Vratix extended her free arm as she started to aim. More blaster fire whizzed past dangerously close to her. One shot even would have hit her, but she moves her free hand and caught the bolt in her palm, seeming to show no signs of being injured by the contact at all.

Finally the Vratix scuttled forward several long steps and threw her whole body into a single action, augmenting her strength with the Force and launching her pike towards the incoming skiff like a missile. For those that were able to follow the speeding pike, it would find itself impaled directly through the chest of the enemy skiff's helmsman. Suddenly the blaster fire stopped as their foes looked back in disbelief, and the skiff started to list off to the side, losing altitude. With the last of her strength Izel called the pike back towards her hand, though she collapsed at the last moment and it simply skittered across the deck of their skiff, stopping near Yulie's feet.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

“Lying?” She asked rhetorically, bewildered and distraught in equal measure. “You think I was lying?”

The various readouts and displays were a solemn reminder of the responsibility required by the conn, and the privilege that it offered. A maid could choke the neck of her broom while hiding behind its slimness, a slave could fall upon her knees in contrition, but a helmsman did not have the luxury of indecision or shrinking away. Wilting behind the controls was demanded by a decade-old instinct, but Yulie could not do that this time.

It was her responsibility to keep the skiff airborne and steady, and to do that she would summon the courage to answer what had been asked of her. The beginning of courage always began with the willingness to stand up for one’s self, however, and the conn would be Yulie’s podium to do just that. She’d been witness to this question being asked to Isen, and it didn’t sit quite well that it was asked of her so soon.

“I didn’t get to grow up in one of your temples, and I sure wasn’t discovered when I was young!” She shouted, competing with the wind and engines to be heard. “Until I met you I never even had the chance to open my eyes, let alone see things the way you do! How many days ago was that? I don’t have a chronometer and I couldn’t read it even if I did, but I know it wasn’t long and I’ve been under near-constant siege the whole time!”

Surely this couldn't have been textbook Jedi training. One week of enduring Ambria, with only a few days before their ship being destroyed. Almost being burned alive while her home exploded, to almost drowning shortly later. Hunted by marauders, carnivorous plants attacking people she depended on. Perhaps a Jedi could keep a level head, but even though she wasn't a Sith she was a very long ways off from being a Jedi.

“This is my first time flying, and I kept us in the air even when you knocked the controls! I chose not to swing the helmsman around like a club even though I could have sent at least two of his crew over the railing! Certainly not because it was easy for me to hold back! I did that because you warned me about channeling the Dark Side, and I know that it’s better to get my face broken in half for my kindness!”

Her nostrils flared when she became suddenly aware that her nose was a little crooked.

“I kept my finger off the trigger! I remained at my post! I changed course when you ordered me to! I know I’m not wise like my Captain, or strong like your student, or even good like you, but I am completing my task! If none of that counted for anything…then you can call me by my real name, because any other would be a lie and I don’t like being lied to, either!”

She made eye contact at the end, holding it despite habitually averting her gaze every other time. Trying to find her way to Balance took hard work, and it certainly wouldn’t be an easy journey even if she had a proper Jedi upbringing, but hard work means nothing if one does not believe in herself. Yulie chose to believe that her efforts were examples of her progress rather than evidence of failure. Even her monologue was such an example, she believed.

It was voiced by reason instead of impassioned venting. It was even calming for her to put that in the open, certainly moreso than cowering behind the podium and stammering apologies. There was only the question if Izel could see it that way, or perhaps take it as an ill-timed demonstration of teenage rebellion that mammals were famous for.

Blaster fire would break the moment of silence, and Yulie would blame herself for it and all that would follow. Had she been more concise, had she concentrated on manoeuvring the skiff instead of opening her heart and standing up for herself. Perhaps then Izel wouldn’t have been shot. Perhaps then Izel wouldn’t have been forced to kill. When the blaster fire rained upon them, the best Yulie could manage was provide the smallest window of time for the other squad of thugs to assail them.

The lightsaber staff rolled up to Yulie’s feet, and she pointed it at the helmsman. “Take the conn! The rest of you—cover Izel!”

Igniting it at both ends and tucking the blaster into her pants behind her back, Yulie assumed a defensive stance to protect the helm. She could not leave the post unguarded. If unmanned, the skiff would crash. If she defended Izel’s position while the helmsman kept to the air, they would have a clear line of sight to take him out without effort and knock them all out of the sky. She would have to be its sentinel and deflect any incoming fire away from it until the danger passed.

The problem was that Yulie never held a functioning lightsaber before, and reciting her mantra accomplished less than she wanted. The duality she found on Umbara’s skin was nowhere to be found upon the skiff. When the firing squad turned to her position, every attempt to strike aside the incoming bolts of energy was met with failure. The hum of the lightsaber passed uselessly while she swung, the energy blasting unimpeded.

To anyone skilled with a blade, Yulie looked like she was trying to swat a fly that was bumbling around her. To those attuned to the Force, they could see where she was succeeding. Though whiffing every strike, she was both drawing their fire and dodging in such a way that the helmsman and the conn were left untouched by the screaming streaks of light. Yulie was where she needed to be, just not where she wanted to be, an incongruity owed to a complete lack of skill but partial completion in centering herself.

As the two skiffs crossed beside each other, the leader of the opposing crew directed his arm towards those who were huddled around Izel. They had indeed been given some training in how to deal with Jedi, for they knew a Jedi would gladly give its life in defense of others. If Izel was unable to come to the aid of the powerless thugs shielding her, then Yulie would be expected to throw herself between them even if it meant abandoning her post. That was the Jedi Way.

They took aim and opened fire, indifferent to their comrades’ bodies that made a wall for the Vratix. Yulie threw the lightsaber, and with her other hand exploited the anti-Jedi training that those men had received. Everyone knew that Jedi don’t carry blasters, so when Yulie whipped hers out from behind their back, none of them saw it coming. As the staff flipped through the air, Yulie committed to mercy and switched to the stun setting.

In her wrath, Yulie had faced people much stronger and larger than herself, but there was no courage in wrath. It was cowardice disguised as might, or in the case of vengeance, disguised as righteousness. In the moment she decided to defend everyone aboard the skiff, she found real courage. It was strong, yet merciful. The tumbling glow of the blade intercepted the blaster fire that would have otherwise been lethal shots, reflecting them away while letting only the errant shots and near-misses through the summersaulting beam.

When it sailed past the group it would strike the guard rail on its side, deactivate, and begin rolling back towards the Vratix. Yulie left no time for those men to continue their volley, hosing the assailants with stun blasts. Those who didn’t duck for cover found themselves knocked cold or holding a short-circuiting weapon.

"Is everyone alive?" Yulie shouted, listening for one voice above all others. It would take more than courage to complete her mission; without guidance, the next step would be so much harder.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

Izel was surprised their captives actually submitted to Yulie's commands. She had been almost certain the gangers would use the opportunity created by the Vratix's fall to try and seize back control of the skiff. Instead they followed the young Dathomirian's orders almost with no hesitation at all. Perhaps it was because they already had knowledge of what the Jedi, and Dark Jedi, were capable of and did not wish to anger Yulie further after she had already threatened to smear them all. Or perhaps the girl had used some unconscious mind trick. Izel was too disoriented to tell at the moment. Either way the helmsman eagerly returned to his post upon being ordered to while the rest moved to help shield the wounded Vratix.

The second skiff was crewed with six as well, or five, now that their helmsman had been killed. While one of their crewmen scrambled to take control of the vehicle the other four lined up to open fire on the Jedi's skiff, still not paying any heed to their endangered comrades. While her protectors cringed in fear Izel struggled to her feet and started to summon a Force barrier. She feared she would not make it in time, and some of the crew would be killed, but Yulie throwing her lightsaber in the way miraculously managed to deflect all of the incoming shots. Afterwards the Dathomirian opened fire, stunning two of the enemy crew and causing the remaining three to duck for cover. As the impromptu pilot hid behind the helm, he inadvertently set the skiff into a descent, and soon they were out of firing range of the Jedi.

Izel took the momentary lapse in battle to reach out and call her pike back to her hand, using the other to press down on the blaster wound that had torn across the side of her torso. As Yulie asked if everyone was alive she would receive some shaken 'yes's' and nods from their captives. Izel would likewise incline her head respectfully. "For now." The Vratix answered hoarsely, trying to reestablish her calm demeanor. Her earlier lapse had been unacceptable for someone of her station, and had been the cause of her own injury. "Thank you." Was all she could say in the moment. They had to deal with the others first.

After taking a deep breath and forcing herself to stand up straight, ignoring the burning blaster scoring on her body, Izel would step over to the skiff's railing and look down at their foes. The two conscious crewman looked up at her, the leader raising his weapon to fire a shot. The Vratix simply reignited her blade and deflected the attack without issue. She then fixed the men with a hard gaze. "You are beaten!" She shouted. "Throw your weapons over the side and put your vessel down. And we will do you no more harm. Do not force my hand." The men hesitated, looking worriedly at each other, then complied. They were smarter than they looked. As their skiff went down Izel would turn her attention back to Yulie and her captives.

"Put us down beside them." She ordered before walking closer to Yulie and speaking in a lower tone, to try and keep their conversation just a bit quieter. "Forgive me." She said with a sigh, then took a moment to look the girl over. "I'd forgotten you were so new to this." She commented thoughtfully. "I realize my outburst was unfair. You did well considering the circumstances, and I appreciate you trying so hard to control your impulses. My standards are high because they must be. We don't have the luxury of settling for anything less then perfection. I faltered myself, and you saw the result." She turned to look over the edge of the skiff as they approached the wilderness below. The other skiff had landed, and the men aboard were getting down on their knees and putting their hands over their heads in preparation for the Jedi's arrival. "We live in dangerous times." She continued without looking back at the girl. "Don't think you are the first to be thrown into a situation not fully prepared. We all must learn to adapt." Finally she looked back at Yulie. "But you've performed admirably thus far Padawan. I want you to know that."

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Yulie looked away when Izel began to approach her, trying to make it look like she was just keeping an eye on the helmsman instead of bracing herself for a tongue-lashing. The Dathomirian said what she felt she had to say in order to rise to the occasion, but she was the sort who would rather say nothing at all than even approach something that was out of line. It was never endearing when the Help got mouthy. Why did she have to sound so accusing when she mentioned the controls getting knocked? Only now was better phrasing beginning to form in her mind.

She isn’t going to want you around anymore. Maybe if you could have swatted at least one of those blaster bolts! Must have looked like a petulant child up there with all those excuses. Almost threw her lightsaber overboard! Surrendered control of the skiff!

“Set her down easy. Skiff has a lot of new holes in it; if anything shakes loose it’s going to take a while to find.”

At least Yulie was able to come up with some actual instructions as Izel walked up. She was 80% certain that her demeanor was completely transparent, but awkward or nonsensical commends would have bumped that up another twenty points. When the Vratix closed in, there was no ignoring the conversation that would follow. No excuses remained, no small feat or sign of potential to point to. If Izel was about to dismiss her as a student, she couldn’t even offer her cleaning services. The ship was gone. There was simply nothing left for her to give.

To the girl’s surprise, Izel actually apologized. Even praised her for the effort, in spite of the mixed results. Yulie’s first instinct was to take the blame, even when none was being offered.

“It’s not just because I’m new at this. Even when things are going well, I am fighting against myself. So if I’m winning one way, it’s like I’m losing in another. It’s going to be ugly sometimes.” Perfection was a high expectation, about as far it gets from Nothing. “I’m not going to give up, though.”

The skiff touched down gently, and Yulie motioned for the helmsman to join the rest of his crew. The time had come for Yulie to prove that she was actually getting something out of her efforts and not just banging rocks together. She took the helm and called for everyone’s attention.

Shaped like a podium, the conn was a more inviting place to speak than the otherwise open, elevated platform that composed the rest of the bridge. Its size was overbearing, however, optimized for panels of controls and a taller operator. Yulie felt ridiculous standing behind it to address the collection of criminals who were huddled on the deck, her small stature and mousey frame in stark contrast to the bold shape belonging to the helm.

Stepping slightly to the side so that one lever swooped over her shoulder, Yulie was able to partially hide behind the strong piece of engineering without looking like a child peering timidly over its surface. In her periphery she could see the stain her nose had left when her face was driven into it. That beating was somehow less frightening than public speaking.

“None of your lives have any value.” She started, staring at the guardrail just beyond the onlookers so that she couldn’t make out the whites of their eyes. Before Izel had the opportunity to completely lose her temper over what sounded like the beginning of a disastrously timed Tarkin Speech, Yulie continued. “That is what your boss believes, and that is what your boss would have you believe.”

Back on Ambria, Izel tried convincing Yulie that punishing oppressors only served to continue a cycle of violence, that it only affirmed a lifestyle of dominance through strength. These people were not Sith, but Yulie was positioned to open a dialogue, make them question their loyalties, weaken their resolve, just like Izel said to do.

“Why else would you be sent in a rig that doesn’t even have a roof to take down warriors more powerful than you can possibly understand? Why would your sister skiff rain fire upon your deck without caring about whoever gets hit? Why else would your coworkers form a firing squad against you just to draw me out into the open? And why else would you have done the same thing if we had boarded them instead!?”

These rhetorical questions may not have been as thought-provoking as Yulie wanted them to be. Izel had cautioned that a certain balance must be struck and Yulie wasn’t positioned as well to meet it; she hadn’t shown herself to be strong in ability and may not have been able to project the strength needed to be convincing. Her boasts of being able to ragdoll the crew had been left without demonstration, and while she was able to deflect blaster fire when she threw the lightsaber, her previous attempts to protect the helm were underwhelming. All she had was the truth of her words.

“The only reason is because your boss thinks you're all disposable. You may not have realized that until I said it, but I do know that you feel it. When Izel crushed your weapons, on some level your realized that the only people on this planet who hold your lives in any regard are the very people you were sent to kill. When you saw a lightsaber struck down their helmsman, you knew that the only thing keeping you alive was our mercy. I know this because you did as I commanded instead of forcing my hand.”

Her scalp itched, and she ignored a worry that they may have had another reason for obeying her. She gambled that she had read the situation properly; if there was some other motivation owing to their actions, it could undermine the strength of her argument. Worse, she couldn’t be certain that she had shown dominance to control them much like she’d done with bugs and vermin. It was a preposterous notion, no, they were much too large and they were fully sentient. Even in a state of desperation, she had no reason to think that she could use the Dark Side to whisper to the reptilian cores of their brain stems to control their instincts and direct their actions.

But there was a moment when she felt something different, right before she threw the lightsaber. When she found courage without managing to center herself. Certainly not something explosive like that Dark Side tended to be, but it certainly lacked the serenity she felt when she successfully shot the flare. It wasn’t worth thinking about, she decided. Just her usual pattern of self-doubt whenever she did something right.

“This is the endpoint of your way of life. Sooner or later, you pick a fight with someone you never should have approached, and no one has your back. That way of living is just water circling a drain. Today, I am going to give you the choice to live a different way. Report to your boss that you completed your mission. Detain the people who were about to kill you—without harming them—until the Law arrives. Do that, and I will remember our conflict a little differently when we tell our version of events.”

Yulie had no reason to believe that this would produce any lasting change. They would act selfishly, out of their own self-interest, and relapse the moment they were permitted. She was not strong in ability or belief, yet she promised herself that she would treat people better than they deserved. She would at least finish this the way she had been taught.

“You aren’t slaves. Your lives have value. Make your choice.”

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

Yulie still doubted herself, and she was right, she still had a long way to go, but Izel saw her resolve to not give up as a good thing. Success only became impossible when one stopped trying after all. "I'm glad to hear it." The Vratix said in response. As the skiff was touching down she turned her attention to the blaster wound on her side. Taking a deep breath and re-centering herself Izel was able to heal the burned area with the Force. She was so focused on the wound she didn't notice Yulie taking a spot at the helm, the Jedi's head popping up in shock as the girl started her speech in such an awful way.

She didn't butt in immediately though, and as she realized Yulie was trying to sway the criminals away from their current path the Vratix instead turned to look at them. She appreciated the girl taking her advice to heart, but she doubted it would be as simple as that. These men were hardened criminals after all. Pirates, murderers and thieves. As the young Dathomirian spoke to them some just viewed her words as an annoyance, even offensive to their sensibilities. The way they had been brought up, a person's value was directly connected to how skilled they were at committing acts of violence. They were in the business of breaking the law and exploiting other people. Of course their lives would be at risk when doing so, they didn't go into battle ignorant to that fact.

Still, none of them actually spoke up against her. While they might have laughed at her thoughts on the matter, they understood their own position. They had been beaten, and they were at the Jedi's mercy. It was best not to hurt their chances of getting out of this alive. And Izel did see one or two faces that actually looked somewhat contrite upon hearing Yulie's words. Her speech was not a complete failure. Perhaps they would rethink their ways.

When the girl finished speaking, the helmsman spoke up timidly. "We can't just report back that we finished our mission." He said, avoiding eye contact with the Dathomirian. "Alsuna told us to bring her your heads. If we show up without them she'll know something's wrong." Izel looked towards Yulie a moment then back to the helmsman.

"We can still take advantage of her lack of knowledge." The Vratix said. "Where is she now?" The helmsman looked first to his companions, who seemed none too pleased that he was talking, but ignored them as he turned his attention to the Jedi.

"She went after the other escape pod personally." He answered her. That put Izel on edge immediately. Isen was very talented, but she wasn't sure whether or not he could overcome Alsuna on his own. Her expression didn't betray any distress, but her antennae twitched a few times as she fell into strategizing.

"Then we must be quick..." She said thoughtfully. "How many more of you are there?"

"Not counting us here and Alsuna?" The helmsman asked. "Twenty-three. We have a camp to the northeast of here. We usually keep eight men on guard there, along with the kennels where Alsuna keeps her pets. The rest are probably out on patrol. We have speeders and bikes, but the two skiffs here are our only airborne vehicles. That and the freighter we have back at camp."

"Oh tell them everything why don't you!" One of the more bold thugs snapped at the helmsman.

"I will tell them everything!" The helmsman snapped back. "These guys are way more than I signed up for. I'm not dying for that nutcase."

"We should have left you on Bandomeer you karking coward!"

"Quiet!" Izel piped in sternly, and the protesting thug just grumbled to himself as he turned his head down again. After thinking on it a bit more she looked at Yulie. "As much as I hate to leave Isen vulnerable we can't engage Alsuna while she has reinforcements to call on. They'll be coordinating communications from their camp. We strike there, capture the guard, their ship, their supplies, and then we'll have the leverage to force the rest of them to stand down. As soon as Captain Watam catches up to us we'll move out. Are you able to keep going?" With the chaos of battle over Izel could see Yulie had been battered pretty badly herself by the helmsman's assault. The Vratix could heal her wounds with the Force, but if the girl was still reeling psychologically from all that had just happened that would be another problem entirely.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Silence could be a thunderous noise, both soft and concussive. It took a different kind of strength for Yulie to find her voice and raise it over the unspoken words aimed at her, accompanied by glares so judging that the stony faces before her were muffling. The dubious stares, amused rolling of the eyes and at times bitter eyeballing from those she was speaking to were enough to harden her doubts. This effort was wasted on people like them.

Despite the futility of trying to reach them, their unwillingness to listen was what gave Yulie the strength to say her piece and offer them their choice. She wanted to make them understand that a person’s life has value, and that it wasn’t worth submitting themselves to those who wouldn’t acknowledge that. Yet she wasn’t self-aware enough to see that she was caught in the same self-destructive pattern, for in her own way she was no closer to accepting her own worth than they were to accepting their own.

Instead of siding with her to seize control of their own fates, only one spoke up and with considerable resistance from the others. They were living down to her expectations, and it was deflating. If she couldn’t get pirates to mutiny for their own self-interest, how was she going to convince a Sith anything?

Izel pumped the helmsman for information while Yulie awkwardly returned to the Jedi’s side. It sounded like they had at least two major battles on the horizon, a hive of villainy followed by a nest of darkness. Izel asked if Yulie was able to push forward.

“My face is going to swell up pretty badly tomorrow, but it shouldn’t affect my vision today.” The left side of her face felt tender, a purple shadow tracing under her eye and down her nose. A sharp stabbing pain in her cheek let her know of a fracture, but even an injury like that wouldn’t slow her down. The only thing she had to be mindful of was the burning sensation at her flank, but her meditative breathing exercises kept even that in check.

“I’m actually more worried about you.” Yulie said, eyeballing the blaster marks. Insectoid anatomy made it impossible for Yulie to tell whether the wounds were better or worse than they would otherwise be on a humanoid; if the exoskeleton trapped the residual heat inside, the internal injuries could be far more serious than it looked.

“Those wounds are going to take their toll if you go traipsing through the wilds all the way to their base.” The journey ahead troubled Yulie. If Izel had to hurry the whole way, those burn marks could take a good deal of fight out of the Vratix, and Yulie herself would have to struggle to keep up with fewer and shorter legs to carry her. The Dathomirian had an idea, but she didn’t like it.

“There may be another way to get in. Faster, too.” She said, hesitantly. The helmsman was being cooperative, so it might make more sense to bring him along than abandon him with all the other thugs. “If their job is to bring our heads, the helmsman can bring mine. Still attached, that is. I can go as a prisoner while you hide in the skiff; they must have a place in there to hide their stash. If he says that I’m afflicted by the Dark Side like Alsuna, she may want to inspect me before confirming a kill order. Or…or…”

Yulie opened her palm and wiped the mud away from her slave markings. It made her feel naked as the day she was born to show Izel the brand seared into her palm and the tattoos wreathing it, but Isen’s safety was more important than her own. He was everything that Yulie was not, and she wouldn’t let something like her own sense of embarrassment put his life in danger. He would be a great Jedi, whereas Yulie wasn’t a great anything.

“He can show them these. They’d have no reason to think a slave like me a threat; Alsuna might rescind the kill order. It’s the fastest way to get us inside, and you’d be able to rest up until you’re ready to surprise them. Even if they kill me on the spot, it could be Isen’s best chance.” And if they didn’t, she could do any number of things that might be of assistance.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

As Yulie's eyes fell on Izel's wound she would find that it had actually healed for the most part already. Thanks to the Force the process had been accelerated, leaving nothing but some scarred chitin where the burn had been. As the Dathomirian mentioned her own pain Izel would raise her hands. She would pause just in case the girl protested, if she did not the Vratix would move forward and lightly grasp either side of her face.

Again she'd call on the Force and use it to accelerate the Dathomirian's healing process. Any serious pain she was feeling would be reduced to a dull ache. The healing process was not a complete one though, only enough to ensure the pain would not be enough to hamper her. A long, slow exhale from the insectoid while she did her work would indicate a different kind of vulnerability. She was getting tired from all this use of the Force. If she kept pushing herself, she would be too weak to combat Alsuna. "Don't worry about me." She told the girl despite this, hiding any exhaustion she was feeling.

After healing Yulie, Izel would step back and listen to her plan. It frightened her a good deal. Especially considering how eager the young Dathomirian seemed to put herself in such a deadly spot with no way to defend herself. "That... would be very dangerous..." She replied uncertainly, and looked towards the helmsman. The human scratched the back of his head as he looked at the girl unsurely before speaking to Izel.

"Well... If we did bring anyone back alive, the guys at camp wouldn't hurt her unless Alsuna gave the word. Nothing happens without her say so."

"Wouldn't they wonder why you're the only one on the skiff? And where the other one is?" The Vratix asked next. The helmsman considered it a bit more before shrugging his shoulders.

"I could tell them we engaged you and you fled. And the others went after you." He offered, then nodded to Yulie. "Then tell them I was ordered to bring the captive back to camp. They wouldn't like it, but they'd call it in to Alsuna before they did anything... I think..." Izel's antennae twitched and she clicked her mandibles, thinking. She didn't care for the risk at all, but Yulie had a point. This way they'd be able to get right into the heart of the camp, and the Vratix would have enough time to recover some of her strength.

But her thoughts were interrupted by Captain Watam finally emerging from the forest, taking a few limping steps into their midst before leaning down on his knees and struggling to catch his breath. "Oh man..." He said as he squinted over his exhaustion. "You guys are... I saw the thing... That was great..." He nodded to Yulie between his deep breaths. "Hey kid, glad you're not dead." Finally he took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up straight again. "So what's next?" Izel looked at him a few moments and then back to Yulie.

"If you're sure..." She started, still clearly fearful for the girl's safety. "I can hide in the skiff's storage compartment and the helmsman can take us back to the camp. He'll tell them that the Captain and I are still on the loose and misdirect reinforcements as far away as he can." She looked between the helmsman and the Dathomirian. "The two of you will need to do whatever you can to get all of the guards gathered as closely together as possible. Then I'll attack and take them all out at once." If she could even do that. Only time would tell, and this was probably their best option. She looked back at Watam. "Yulie will give you back your blaster, you can stay here and guard our prisoners." She looked back at the girl. "This all hinges on you though. I won't take the risk unless you're certain. We could always come up with another plan." She would wait for the girl's answer before they did any more. One thing was certain though, Yulie certainly didn't lack a Jedi's courage. The jury was still out on whether she possessed one's sense.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Holding Yulie’s face was like petting a rescue animal at a shelter. The girl flinched when Izel raised her hands and recoiled slightly at their touch. No one handled her affectionately, so it was the only way she could react. For those with experience handling animals, the proof of her trust and consent was that she kept her arms straight down at her sides and her palms facing backwards; Yulie had a much different stance when she was on the defensive.

Her breathing got easier, beginning with her nasal cavity as the Force mended her airway. Ruptures in cartilage fused together and straightened her nose, the trickling stream of Byzantium-hued blood crept to a halt. When the air filled her lungs, the burning sensation in her ribs subsided until it felt only like sitting a bit too close to a campfire when she took a full breath. The stinging sensation in her cheek remained, however, as did the tenderness of her skin.

With the healing process left incomplete, Yulie would surely swell up the following day just as she imagined, her face already starting to darken, but there was no need to pace her breathing or remain hunched over to let the blood drain. It made a world of difference if she had to go another few rounds; the pain was endurable and she wouldn’t exhaust herself to police her own breaths. Despite this, she looked more relieved to have hands off her face.

When she explained her plan, Yulie expected the suggestion to be overturned, but even though Izel wasn’t completely on board, the Vratix entertained the idea long enough to gather more information. That meant that it actually had some merit, either that or Alsuna’s pursuit of Isen had affected the Jedi’s judgment. But there was still the matter of the rest of the gang; Yulie had hoped to sway enough of them to deal with the other crew, but it looked like they were stalwart with their loyalties. Leaving them behind would leave them with the opportunity to complicate things later.

Fortunately, the Captain caught up, and that meant they had the means to keep Alsuna’s henchmen in check during the next phase of the mission. Yulie clasped her hand shut the moment he appeared, concealing the markings once more. She would have to show it again at the base later on, and she knew it would feel completely different to do so. It would be no display of trust, but instead acceptance that the cruelty the stains represented were still a defining feature of her identity. On some level she was still a slave, and circumstances would continue placing her among those who would see her as nothing else.

“I kept your blaster safe, just like you said.” In case Watam couldn’t tell. Of course he was glad that she wasn’t dead; she was keeping his property safe.

Finally, Izel consented to Yulie’s plan, asking only if she was certain. Self-doubt began to return; Yulie had not forgotten that she had angered Izel back on the skiff when she almost succumbed to her rage. It would no doubt be infuriating if things fell apart when they all depended on Yulie to keep it together. But what other option was there?

If the encampment had anti-aircraft weaponry, the skiff would be an easy target on an attack run. Landing a ways off would rouse suspicion and give them a lot of time to respond. If they went by foot, even the most sound tactical approach could be far too late to help Isen. And no matter how they got there, the Jedi would need to be as close to 100% as possible if they were to have any chance at all. This plan would get them there quickly, and Izel would be at her most rested. Yulie couldn't think of any better approach, but she was no tactician and she knew it.

“I’m not going to disregard a good idea just because it’s not my own. If we can get there faster, and safer, and be a better help to Isen, I say we do that. But if not…I was born to do this.” She sighed. Playing the role of a slave was probably the easiest thing she could do, and was the furthest from what she wanted.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

“I kept your blaster safe, just like you said.” In response to Yulie's words offered a small grin. It wasn't much, but there was genuine warmth there that the Dathomirian would be able to sense.

"Thanks kid." He said simply as he took his weapon back. When Yulie expressed her growing self-doubt and willingness to use a different plan Izel agonized over it just a bit more. She lowered her head and tried to think, antennae twitching and mandibles clicking as she wracked her brain. The truth was there was nothing faster then the skiff. Sneaking in would be safer for all of them sure, but it would take time. Time Isen didn't have. Their only other option was to make a B-line for the Padawan and Dark Jedi. But she didn't like that either. If they went directly into an engagement with Alsuna all of their cards would be out on the table, and their opponent would still have more pieces to bring into play. She had to have faith in her Padawan to survive until the threat of the gang was dealt with. And she had to have faith in Yulie. She was a clever girl and she had been a slave before. She knew how to be humble and acquiescent. All she had to do was not make them angry enough to hurt her. And getting them to pay attention to her wouldn't be too difficult considering the circumstances. Hopefully the helmsman would lend some assistance. If he blew their cover and got the girl killed... Well Izel would just have to make sure he paid for it.

She sighed before looking back at Yulie. "It's a sound plan." She said. "The Force is with you Padawan. I believe you can do this. Just be careful." She would first take the time to make sure each of the other thugs that hadn't come over to their side were tied up securely. "Now I showed each of you mercy," She addressed the prisoners in a calm but sharp voice. "I advise you not to take advantage of that kindness. If I meet you on the battlefield again I will not spare you. I suggest you consider that very carefully."

Once it was clear the message had been received and the thugs were sufficiently cowed Izel would turn back to the helmsman. "You know what to do... uh..."

"Wezz." The helmsman offered his name in reply. Izel nodded.

"Wezz, I expect you to take good care of my apprentice." She said, gesturing to Yulie. "If all goes according to plan I'll make sure that law enforcement is lenient with you." After the man nodded in understanding she looked back to Yulie. "Trust in the Force. And trust in yourself Padawan." She managed to say after a slight hesitation, then moved to conceal herself within the skiff's storage compartment. It was up to her now.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Yulie handed the blaster back to her Captain, not certain how to react to his warm smile. She unraveled the knot that coiled her bootlaces to a belt loop and stashed them away in the skiff’s storage along with her pack, turning a shade of mauve as she uttered a quick apology to Izel for their smell. She told herself that she would appear more helpless without them, but their condition would have done just as well.

They were hers since the day she was freed, the first purchase that she was able to truly make for herself. She found them at what passed for a storefront in an outdoor market, an assortment of wares set upon a carpet where a merchant sat. It took the better part of an afternoon to agonize over the countless choices offered by the various shops, but it was the laces that sealed her decision. A single red thread spiraled among the otherwise solid black coil. It didn’t matter to her that the books had been broken in by a previous owner; they were polished lovingly and cared for. She couldn’t have been prouder of herself for acquiring them.

She had grown since that day, and had been forced to make incisions in the leather to relieve the pressure. The crimson thread had long been stained black, the polish stripped away, scrapes and dents marring the weary surface. Were Yulie to be introduced as a slave, they would surely support the role. So while she would look more helpless to show up barefoot and half-beaten, she stored them away because the boots would somehow be diminished if worn by a slave. They were the boots of a girl who was free.

Climbing up to the deck, she unraveled both strips of red cloth. One she used to bind her hands together at the wrist, the other was looped around the bonds and tied tightly to the guardrail. When loosened, Wezz would be able to use it as a short leash to drag her around.

When the skiff lifted off, she tried meditating to put herself at ease. The mantra didn’t really work this time; it was helpful in managing fear but it wasn’t fear that Yulie felt. Death was something that didn’t frighten her. Being tied up, her markings exposed, it made it harder to feel anything, and she couldn’t center herself. She hit a wall in trying to find duality in captivity and freedom. Was she a free girl deceiving others to be a slave, or a slave deceiving herself to be free?

The mark defined her entire life. A literal chain code seared into her skin, denoting her as company property. A ring of hieroglyphs to document her blood type, serial number, race, anything that a buyer might be particular about, enclosed by a transactional record. Since the debtor’s prison received accreditation from the New Republic, it was considered valid ID, provided it could be properly scanned. With impeccable bookkeeping and carefully selected euphemisms for company jargon, prisons such as those often had it easier when it came to skirting slavery laws.

I choose this for myself. I am not the Mark. That is not who I am. She told herself, trying to break through that wall. And it resisted. She defined the Mark, but the voice in her head reminded her that she was nothing. No, I am not! I am one with the Force, I am not nothing. Yulie argued with herself for a while, not making much progress in her meditations. To find the duality she needed, she first needed to decide who she is and she didn’t have an answer for that yet. All that came to mind were a few roles she could fill professionally and a litany of insults and slurs.

The skiff arrived at its destination and Yulie was still unable to connect with the Force like she had before. As it descended, she surveyed the base, trying to see if she could spot all the people that she needed to somehow gather into place.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

On the way to Alsuna's camp Yulie's attempts at meditation would be interrupted by the helmsman. As he spoke up it would be easy to tell how frightened the man was. But more than that he seemed conflicted, almost ashamed. "Sorry for roughing you up like that earlier..." He told the girl. "What you said... I'll tell you right now I'm not the only one who was hearing you. I've just been in a lot of different gangs, I'm not as used to the idea of loyalty as some of these other guys. They're scared of her you know. Alsuna. You Jedi, I don't think you realize how karking nuts you look to the rest of us. When you see some yellow eyed freak rip a man apart without even touching him... You don't even think about trying to fight back. That paired with all the money we've been making riding with her? Nobody was going to risk turning against her. But I see the writing on the wall. People as unhinged as her... they always end up biting off more than they can chew. I just don't want to go down with her when that happens."

As they approached the camp Wezz would do a quick swing around to try and give Yulie a good look at the layout. It was set up right beside a large outcropping ridge, under which a Kom'rk-class fighter was partially hidden. Near the ship there were three parked speeder bikes, but not other vehicles in sight. As headcount would also show there weren't eight men in the camp, but ten. One seemed to be a mechanic, working on one of the bikes. Another two sat by the kennels on the east edge of the camp, talking and feeding several skeeris that were locked up in wooden cages. Four sat around a fire in the center of the camp eating and drinking while the remaining three were armed and patrolling the perimeter. The Dathomirian really had her work cut out for her.

As the skiff came in to land near the ship one of the men at the campfire stood up and approached, followed closely by another. The first man to stand up was a tall and bulky Weequay who clearly carried himself with some authority. Likely Alsuna's second in command. He bore the scars of a long career in piracy and other illicit activities, and had a merciless expression. Wezz approached Yulie and took the strip of cloth, whispering to the girl before he went on. "Don't make this guy mad, he's the one you need to worry the most about." He warned her before suddenly giving a violent tug and shouting for her to move.

The helmsman led Yulie off of the skiff and towards the Weequay and his henchman following behind. Immediately the alien scowled at Yulie's appearance and put his hand on the hilt of a vibroblade sheathed at his waist. "What the hell is this?" He asked gruffly. "Where is everyone?"

"Chasing down the other Jedi." Wezz answered, keeping to the ruse as he promised. "She's a wily one, killed Robb and Kuar. Cut off Jopa's arm. Poor bastard wouldn't stop screaming." He tugged on Yulie's binds. "We managed to grab this one. She didn't put up much of a fight."

"We're not taking prisoners today remember?" The Weequay growled. Wezz raised a hand to try and calm him down.

"Easy, I think Alsuna might want to have a look at this one. I think she's a slave. In good condition too. We could sell her for-"

"Are you soft in the head?" The Weequay snapped. "Jedi don't keep slaves! Why would they be traveling with one?" Wezz didn't answer, instead grabbing Yulie by the wrist and showing her mark to the alien. That seemed to calm him down slightly. The helmsman shrugged.

"You're asking the wrong man. Eskol told me to bring her back, I brought her back. Just call the boss and see what she wants."

"Eskol..." tthe Weequay spat out the name, shaking his head. He looked the Dathomirian up and down and scoffed. "Yeah, that makes sense. Of course Eskol wants the girl alive, and I don't think he wants to sell her." The man beside him chuckled lightly, and Wezz forced a smirk. Finally the Weequay waved them off.

"I'm not gonna call Alsuna when she's in the middle of her little game. We'll wait until she get's back." He turned and started walking back towards the fire. "Put her near the kennels. Keep an eye on her." As the other two men made their way back towards the campfire Wezz looked to Yulie as though waiting for direction.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

“Alsuna is no Jedi, and neither am I.” Yulie corrected Wezz coldly when he apologized and explained himself. She did not see how he could have thought her a Jedi; she fought him so badly, boarded without a lightsaber and barely managed to fend off the firing squad. Hardly a warrior of legend, even if Izel stood up for her as a Padawan.

The man was clearly afraid, and Yulie thought at least that much was good. If he thought it ominous that the Dathomirian considered herself and Alsuna to be standing apart from the Jedi, perhaps he’d do what he could to avoid provoking her. Like his boss, the frail-looking girl who was bound and tethered to the guardrail found a wellspring of power in the darkest of emotions.

The key difference was that she was trying to not go the way of Alsuna. It felt more natural to prey upon his fears to enforce good behaviour but terrorizing him was not the best play. Yulie had no way of knowing how Wezz behaved under pressure; people tended to become unpredictable when thinking of nothing but survival and finding themselves surrounded by threats. At the very least, Yulie could be semi-accepting of his apology.

“Besides, you’re not the first man to hit me.”

“I’m sorry about that, too.”

Yulie opened her mouth but closed it before she could speak. Nothing came to mind. She wanted to bite back with something clever about making up for it at the base or choosing a way of life that he would have nothing to apologize for, but she couldn’t find the words, not with them being tangled up in her conflicting feelings about him. Yulie resented him for softening her up with heavy fists but knew that he was up here by choice and that should count for something. She just kept quiet.

The base was larger than she imagined. Even though he said there were a couple dozen people answering to Alsuna, it was the eight at their main encampment that stuck out in her mind. Everything sort of scaled to that number, but the operation was clearly larger than Wezz made it seem. How was she going to round up everybody without giving them a reason to fill her with carbon-scored holes? There were also two additional people that she had not counted on.

A Dathomirian does not fear death, or so the Laws went. But it was not death that she feared, it was failure. Everyone was depending on her, and she did not know what to do. When the leash tugged on her wrists, she followed obediently, head down. The paralyzing fear of living up to her namesake competed against the humiliation of having it bare to the world. Her palm was naked and she was embarrassed, a feeling that quickly crumbled into a black sadness while the men talked about her.

This was who she was. Not a Padawan, not even a Dathomirian, just property. The past had become the present, but at least for tonight it could mean something. If she did her duty, all those years would have at least prepared her for this moment And if some good came out of it, then it was because of her choices, not her orders. There would be something in that Mark that she could be proud of.

As the men walked away, Yulie spoke up. Though she was asking Wezz, she knew that her accent made her words clear and audible, and that the Weequay would overhear. Slaves had no possessions, not even secrets; though it was inadvisable for them to be heard, it was unacceptable for their words to go unnoticed.

“I humbly beg your pardon, Sir, but if it pleases you, may I be chained by the neck? I won’t be able to work on my dance routine if my wrists are bound.”

“A Dancer!” The Weequay scoffed, his laugh so unexpected that it burst from his throat as he spoke. "You!? You look like you climbed out of the grave!”

Yulie had his attention now, so she calibrated her posture so that she was speaking between the two men as though talking to both at once, but kept it directed much closer to the Weequay.

“This surprises you.” She observed. “I cannot change the face I was born with, this is true. Normally I wear a veil and paint my skin to draw attention away from my…everything…but much was lost with the ship.” Sandwiching the lie between two truths made it easier to swallow. She had indeed lost a great deal when the Gray Phoenix was destroyed and truly thought herself unappealing to look at it, but dancing attire and cosmetics were beyond her budget even if she were ever so inclined to acquire them.

“People actually want to look at a Dancer who has to cover herself up. What is the Galaxy coming to?” He shook his head as if saddened by the low standards some worlds must have had. Truly, they knew not of gentlemanly entertainment, and were lesser for it. He approached her once more, perhaps dubious, perhaps amused.

“There is no disadvantage to beauty, but dance is an art. Stories may be told through form, emotions may be stirred by the mere expression of one’s body.” She did learn a fair bit from the women while growing up, but she was no Twi’lek and she only ever danced when she was alone. It was something just for her, so if she were talentless she’d have no way to know. But that didn’t matter right now. She had to get the men together in one spot and thought she could trick this Weequay into doing the work for her.

“I can show you, and the other men if it pleases you. Though Master Eskol may not be pleased if I share myself with others.” Yulie feigned concern. It killed her to use the word ‘Master’, but knew that men like these lowlives were prideful creatures. With Eskol elevated to the status of her Master, there would surely be some display of machismo to establish a position of dominance over him. Yulie continued, adding fuel to that fire by walking back her request. “Perhaps it is better if I do not; yes, bind me however you wish. Mast—”

“Eskol ain’t in charge and he sure ain’t here!” Leathery fingers clutched Yulie’s face so quickly she did not even see him move. A thumb pressed hard into the fracture in her cheek, making her eyes moisten. “Tie her up by the wrists and ankles.” He ordered. “We’re going to have a word with the boys. If it turns out they want a good laugh, have ‘em bring something out to make a stage for our ‘Dancer’. But if they want something more than a show when yer done, well, that’s ‘Master’ Eskol’s problem now, isn’t it?” His eyes burned into hers, fiercely daring her to look away while demanding that she not.

“Y-yes, Sir.” Yulie eeked out while Wezz shrugged with indifference.

“And if she isn’t any good at dancing?” The henchman asked.

“We can always place bets and have the skeer’s fight over her. The boys get a good show either way.” With that, the Weequay was done with the conversation for good. Wheeling away on his heels, he offered a parting wave. “Good haul, Wezz. Been a while since we had some real entertainment around ‘ere.”

When he was out of earshot, Wezz finally spoke.

"You made him mad."

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

Izel watched the exchange from her place in the skiff's storage compartment, peeking through a crack in the paneling. She clutched her lightsaber with anger and worry over the thugs' treatment of Yulie, but stuck to the plan. As much as she would have liked to step out from her hiding place and give the Weequay a lesson in politeness right then and there, it wouldn't have served their purposes. So she remained in her spot, watching and waiting.

On the Weequay's order Wezz brought Yulie back to the campfire. The men there were delighted to learn of the newly scheduled 'entertainment', and immediately set about pushing some crates of food together to serve as a makeshift stage. The two men at the kennels approached to join in, but the other three remained on patrol. They did stop by occasionally to see what was going on though. One of the younger men seemed to look overlong at Yulie, but kept to his route quietly.

The mechanic kept to his work however. After he was finished with the speeder bike he made his way over to the skiff, inspecting the blaster damage. "Karking hell..." The grease covered man cursed as drew nearer and nearer to Izel's hiding place. "What did they do to you this time?" The skiff didn't answer his question, but the Vratix did. She placed her palms on the metal panel above her and used a Force push suddenly. The panel shot upwards, smacking the mechanic under the chin and causing his head to snap upwards. The small human flew backwards, landing with all the grace of a sack of potatoes on the deck of the skiff, unconscious. Two insectoid arms reached out from the compartment and grabbed the man by the ankles, dragging him inside with her. After setting him down in a relatively comfortable position Izel would slowly crawl out and replace the panel, hiding him from view.

She would creep closer to the campfire at the heart of the base, remaining hidden for the time being. She was hoping more of the men would gather before she struck. She had to take out as many of them as she could right at the beginning of the fight if she wanted to succeed.

"Callon give us some music!" The Weequay laughed as the men finished setting up the stage. "Give our 'dancer' something to work with haha!" The men laughed along with him, two of them grabbing the Dathormirian by either arm and hefting her up onto the stage. Now not only her hands but her feet were bound, severely restricting her movement. All the gangers lined their seats up to start jeering at Yulie. One of them, presumably the one named Callon, brought out a strange wind instrument and started to play a folksy tune. "Well?" The Weequay shouted expectantly. "Let's see your 'art' girl!" It was quite clear that he wasn't going to be patient with her. She had managed to get six of the men present. That still left the three sentries to deal with...

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Wezz kept her off-balance, to the amusement of the other men. His limbs stretched much further than Yulie’s, and he was meticulous in his carelessness of them while he marched. Forcing her to cower from his arm and jerking her forward by his longer strides. When he reached the campfire, he knocked Yulie to her knees and looped the red leash thrice around his own boot.

Prostrated before him, Yulie’s face contorted, her skin crawling as unknown hands violently clinched her ankles and bound them together. Her comfort had a five-second threshold, an allowance she was powerless to enforce. There was no way to gently guide prying hands back to their owners, and one strayed further up her leg than necessary. Her stomach tightened, twisting in nauseating displeasure.

She could see little more than the ground, and shadows cast by the dancing flames were flicking wickedly at the edge of her vision. Yulie was too afraid to look up, to give the men something to kick. Objects were being dragged into place and more voices were joining, so for now at least things were going her way. No reason to make them go another.

Once their construct was erected to their satisfaction, strong hands took hold of her arms and casually hoisted her upon the stage. Pushed into place too roughly, she immediately lost balance and crashed upon her side, her limbs unable to keep her upright will they were tethered so. The crowd loved it, all six of them.

Six!

There were supposed to be ten!

She looked about quickly, reorienting herself while trying to spot the others. No wonder Izel hadn’t attacked yet, not with this half-assed excuse of a plan. As someone brought an unfamiliar wind instrument, Yulie managed to lock eyes with one of the remaining patrolmen. In that moment, Yulie wished she could have been born as someone else. Anything but a Dathomirian. Most people thought she was just a sickly human, and the unhealthy were typically regarded as unappealing. Oh, to be a Twi’lek. What a life that might have been.

Still, she tried to tempt him. A weak smile. A wiggle of the fingers to let him know that she noticed his gaze. Yulie had to do something to draw him closer; if the prospect of evening entertainment wasn’t enough, perhaps a little special attention would be an excuse.

The music started and Yulie lifted herself upright, sitting on her ankles. It wasn’t a song she’d ever heard, but the musician was bouncing his knee to keep count and that was enough for the girl to at least establish a rhythm. Now she was able bob her head and sway to the downbeat while making serpentine movements with her arms.

As the momentum built, she was able to stand up in a graceful enough way to be part of the performance, not throwing off her rhythm, anyways. To remain balanced in her ascent, she arched her back and swept her arms upwards in a gentle motion, beckoning the patrol with her fingers when her arms were halfway.

Once her arms were fully stretched overhead, she was free to turn or fully twirl. Though very limited in her freedom of movement, she could at least spice things up now, stretching to show off her flexibility and lanky frame from as many angles as could be managed. If the louder members of the audience represented the whole, they thought the show was hilarious, that such an unkempt thing could move like she thought herself as desirable as a Twi’lek or as sensual as a Zeltron.

Public speaking was a frightening experience back on the skiff; being on stage like this was a relentless, heart-swallowing siege that brought into focus everything she hated about herself. But she smiled contentedly, like she awoke from a nice long nap in a lover’s bed. Slaves do not get to spoil the mood with honest faces.

The one patrolman who had watched her a little too long was now arguing with another, fed up with perimeter duties while everyone else got to enjoy themselves in the presence of the only female they’d seen in weeks who wasn’t their boss.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

Yulie had perhaps put on a show more appealing than she thought, because after some argument the younger ganger waved off his fellow sentry dismissively and approached the campfire, shouldering his weapon and crossing his arms to watch the performance. There was a frown on his face, but a kind of adoration in his eyes. The other sentry, seeing that the Weequay was not yet screaming at them to get back to their posts, reluctantly joined the group. That made eight. Izel watched it all from the shadows, feeling ashamed for allowing this to go on. Even if it was her plan, the Vratix could sense Yulie's intense discomfort at the situation she was in. Why had she allowed her to do this to herself?

While some of the men seemed to genuinely be enjoying the Yulie's performance, restricted as she was, others appeared to just want to see her squirm. One of the men laughed as he drew his blaster and fired a single shot, hitting the stage dangerously close to the Dathomirian's feet, close enough that she'd feel some of the heat from the bolt, though not enough to burn. "Come on!" He shouted sadistically. "Is that the best you've got?" Some of the men were displeased by this, others laughed. Unfortunately one of them was the Weequay, so nothing was done to stop it. The one man kept firing his blaster, getting closer to hitting Yulie each time.

That was too much for Izel to bear. Eight was good enough. She could sense the last remaining sentry still begrudgingly doing his task. He was out of her line of sight, but close enough that he must have been watching from a greater distance. As soon as Izel acted he would reply in kind. Probably by calling for backup from the men still out patrolling the forest. So she would need to be fast. Looking towards where Wezz was standing she sent a sort of mental warning to him using the Force, letting him know the attack was about to commence. The helmsman stood up in surprise as he received the message, and looked around confusedly. He caught a glimpse of Izel mostly hidden behind a tent. Without showing any sign of acknowledgement he simply turned around and started walking away from the group. Unfortunately the Weequay spotted him.

"Hey!" He shouted as he stood up and turned around, causing the music and laughter to stop. Wezz halted in his tracks, suddenly looking nervous. "Where the hell are you going?" The Weequay asked, hand on his knife. Wezz swallowed and half turned to look back at him.

"Just taking a leak." He said. "What the hell is your problem today Hobl?" Under the light of the campfire it was easy to see he was sweating. The Weequay scowled. And started walking towards him. The other men were looking at him suspiciously as well.

"You're lying Wezz..." He said ominously, drawing his vibroblade. And that was when Izel struck. Coming out from behind cover, parallel to the group but also out of the way of the stage. She held both palms forward and with a grunt of effort unleashed a powerful Force push. Before the seven gathered men could do anything they were hit by what looked like an invisible tsunami of energy. Every single one of them being flung in the opposite direction, bodies smacking into one another painfully and tumbling along. They all collided with a tent on the other side of the campfire, the canvas structure collapsing on top of them. Hobl, who had just barely been outside the range of the attack, turned to face Izel with an astonished expression. It seemed their surprise attack was a total success. With his back turned Wezz immediately raced forward and slammed his shoulder into the alien, knocking him to the ground.

"I always hated your karking guts Hobl!" The helmsman shouted as he began kicking the Weequay mercilessly. Izel in the meantime focused on the seven men wrapped up in the tent, many of whom were still conscious and trying to get up. The Vratix moved her hands in rapid motions, using the Force to tie the canvas up around the men, tangling them hopelessly in the expansive canvas and leaving them an immobile, squirming mess. As this was happening, Yulie would be able to spot out of the corner of her eye the last remaining ganger. He had seen everything, and was lifting a comlink to his mouth to start speaking as he made a break for the speeder bikes on the far side of the camp. She would also be able to see that when Wezz knocked the Weequay to the ground, his vibroblade had been flung from his grasp and landed just a few feet in front of the stage.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

An experienced dancer would have been able to continue her performance without interruption, even under conditions like these. Muscle memory triumphs over distractions, and mastery of the art avails many improvisational techniques to make corrections without losing one’s step, flow or rhythm. Yulie was an amateur in comparison, and the shriek of blaster fire brought her routine to a near-halt.

Startled by the heat of blaster fire nipping at her heels, she stood up upon her tippy-toes a bit too quickly. She teetered precariously, the tight bonds around her wrists and ankles passively resisting her efforts to remain balanced, and the man who took that first shot delighted in taking a few more. Yulie’s clumsy success in staying upright proved more entertaining for him than her performance and he decided to see how close he could get before making her fall one way or another.

To one of the people who were actually enjoying the dance, her awkward stumbling signified the conclusion of her performance and it wasn’t so satisfying to watch her now. “Just take it off, already!” He threw his drink at her impatiently.

Yulie cowered from the tin cup as it struck her, turning her face away so nothing would splash her eyes. Self-defense wasn’t tolerated from slaves; they were expect to endure the abuses that may come their way, for both safety and harm were currencies of slave owners. Their property had only what their owners gave them, and they were expected to be gracious for it. Shying away from blaster fire put this notion to the test and Yulie dared not draw attention to that fact.

Looking over the crowd, there were still two thugs unaccounted for. She was half-certain that Izel would chew her out for this; the Vratix made it clear that this missioned hinged on Yulie completing her task, and Yulie had even less control over the situation here than she had aboard the skiff. The audience was restless, and everyone in it had their unique contribution to the feeling of utter desolation she had inside. Perhaps the only way to draw everybody to one spot was to give the crowd everything they want.

Yulie fidgeted with the bottom of her shirt and braced herself for a fresh round of jeering. She already felt a telltale warmth in her throat that rivaled the heat from close blaster fire, a telltale symptom that the audience would bring her to tears if she were to expose herself completely and be treated all the same. Shakily, she exhaled and was about to pull her shirt over her head when a commotion stirred around Wezz.

The music stopped, and attention turned away from the stage. Yulie remained standing up there, with no idea what to do but feeling a little glad that she was still wearing her clothes. That’s when Izel sprung into action, sending almost the entire lot of them tumbling through the air as if they were hit by a shockwave while Wezz took on the Weequay.

A vibro-blade skidded towards the stage but Yulie caught notice of one of the people who hadn’t joined the audience, a sentry holding a comm unit. Dealing with him was more important than cutting her bonds. She would not allow him to radio this one in. Reaching towards him, she squeezed her hands tight and tried harnessing the Force to crush his communicator.

It didn’t work. Her use of Techniques was still mostly instinctual, and she had a long way to go before she could reliably call upon the Force in an actual battle. When it was clear that she was just using sign language on him, she went for the vibro-blade.

“There’s one more!” Yulie blurted as she carefully sliced through the bonds around her ankles. “He’s going for a speeder!” When her feet were free, she then liberated her wrists. She thought she should chase after him, but didn't want to go running off in case Izel needed her here or doing something else.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

Izel turned her attention away from the fallen tent when Yulie pointed out the last remaining sentry to her. He was making a B-line for the speeders. She briefly glanced at the tangled heap of the other gangsters. There was still movement beneath the canvas, though sluggish. Whoever was still conscious under there likely wasn't that much of a threat. And it seemed Wezz had a handle on the Weequay. That just left the sentry. Her head whipped towards Yulie.

"Find a blaster and stun anyone that crawls out of that tent!" She shouted to the Dathomirian, pointing towards the crumpled shelter. Without waiting for a reply she turned and broke off after the last remaining enemy. To pick up speed she fell down on all six limbs, scuttling forward like some kind of horrific predatory beast. Or at least that's what the sentry must have thought. As he glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming Vratix he blanched with terror.

"Kark!" He cursed frightfully as he turned forward and kept running. "Kark! Kark! Kark!" Izel tried to jump on top of him, but he turned at the last moment, leaving her to crash into another crate. As the insectoid struggled to her feet and shook her head she watched the sentry change course. He ran straight to the kennels and fumbled to open the cage door. Three skeeris burst out, barking ravenously as they charged at the Vratix. Izel sighed as she ignited her lightsaber. "You've got to be kidding me..."

Meanwhile things were about to take a turn back at the campfire. Wezz had managed to gain an early advantage by ambushing the Weequay, but it was clear the helmsman was no real fighter. Hobl caught his leg as he attempted to kick him again and dragged him to the ground, then rolled on top of the smaller human.

"You damn rat!" The alien shouted as he in turn began laying into Wezz with his fists, quickly going about the process of reducing his face to a bloody pulp. Yulie would have to do something quickly, as it was likely once the helmsman was finished off she would be next on the list.

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Yulie scooped up the first blaster she could find, aimed at it the Weequay and tried to set it to stun but the firing lever that allowed the wielder to change settings just wouldn’t budge. Turning the weapon sideways, Yulie eyeballed the blaster, trying to find where else the mechanism could be.

The lever was fused in place, telltale metallic scars hugging its perimeter. Whoever owned this blaster took great care to deprive it of the option to stun a target. This could have been achieved many ways, but it quickly became clear that it was a statement of intent, and the entire gang was unified in voicing it.

Blaster after blaster, no matter how many Yulie picked up, they all had this lever fused and each had a different scarring pattern. A targeting reticle, jagged lightning, fangs. Everyone had their own artistic signature in their commitment to lethal force. It must have been a directive, an order coming down from the top to smother mercy in its crib. They couldn’t peacefully incapacitate a target even if they wanted to, and every time their fingers caressed this lever, their resolve would be strengthened.

Yulie wouldn’t be able to stun anyone, not with these blasters. What would Izel say if she returned to find a bunch of cold bodies riddled with smoldering holes? What would Izel say if her student was swiftly overwhelmed and taken prisoner? It was an impossible choice, a forked path to inevitable failure.

Quaking with adrenaline, the Dathomirian reminded herself that she was a mechanic. There was always a workaround, though time was always in short supply. Kneeling upon the barrel with one leg, she held the vibro-blade against its side and used a different blaster as a hammer to wedge it between the iron seams.

Dislodge the heat sink. Sever the limiter. The reactor module is a bomb if it overheats; a failsafe will force it into stun mode. Stun mode generates less heat. She ignored darker thoughts about design flaws seemingly endemic throughout the Galaxy: one blast to a weak spot and the whole system goes down. The gun was equally likely to detonate in her hands as it was to fire a stun ring, and with the reactor module getting warmer with every shot…she felt a lot better to not think about the odds.

Thuk – thuk – Krik. The outer casing popped off, exposing the heat sink. Yulie never really thought about why she was such an effective mechanic. It was just something she had done all her life, so it was easily dismissed as the product of experience. Most mechanics did not subconsciously use Telekinesis on the objects they tinkered with, however. She could use her own fingernails to remove screws, and the Force negating any resistance it should have had.

It was the same with this weapon; the Force guided the vibroblade into the narrow crevasse of the iron seam, positioned the handle of the blade and directed the kinetic energy to pop off the casing without damaging the electronics underneath. Dislodging the heat sink was also too simple a task, popping out as if a modular component in spite of the passive engineering designed to keep it contained.

“Stop!” Yulie ordered, pointing the modified blaster at Hobl. “It’s over. Tell your men to stand down!”

“They’re Alsuna’s men, you worthless slave.” He stopped softening Wezz’s head and turned his gaze slowly, glaring at her with contempt. He could not obey a command from one so obviously terrified. The girl was holding blasters with all the composure of an unwilling suicide bomber.

“I’m not a slave!”

“Only a slave turns her cheek when she’s about to be hit!” He retorted. He saw her performance and that was all that he needed to see. “Doesn’t matter if you call anyone ‘Master’ or not. You’ve been wearing your Brand for too long. It’s not skin deep anymore: the ink has tattooed your brain. Your Brand has marked your very soul. You’re just a slave, always will be, and I’m not taking orders from one.”

“I’ll shoot you! Your men, too.” Yulie warned in disbelief, wagging the blaster at him in case he didn't see it. She had the gun! This was supposed to be going differently! Why wouldn’t he just give the order!?

“You’re certifiable, you know that?” He pointed at the heat sink on the ground, knowing full well what it meant for the weapons he requisitioned. “If you’re lucky, you’ll drop four of us before that thing blows you into chunks. And then we’ll wake up a little later and kill your master. So go ahead. Shoot.” He grinned. She wasn’t shooting. It was just an ill-conceived bluff. It would be a roll of the dice every time she pulled the trigger and they both knew it. So she pointed the other one at him, the one that she had used as a hammer. The one that couldn’t be used as a stun weapon even if she wanted to.

“Oh. That’s right. You still got a working blaster. But what are your orders, slave? You were ordered to stun us. What will your master say if you kill us all instead? If you aren’t a slave, this should be easy. All you have to do is think for yourself. But you’re not going to, because good slaves follow orders.”

There was a baleful shriek of blaster fire, and Hobl stared at his chest in shock. A tunnel had been burned all the way through, and a soft orange ring still glowed around the wound. The barrel to Yulie’s blaster wobbled in the air, she was shaking so violently. But it was the blaster in Wezz’s hand that had a smoke trail leaking out from it. He was still sprawled upon the ground, and his arm went limp as Hobl fell over. Yulie may have had to wrestle with the idea of gunning him down, but Wezz had no problem resolving that moral quandry.

There were still the others, though, and they were beginning to crawl out of the tent. Yulie stood behind Hobl’s body to make it look like she had shot him down and aimed both blasters at the first man to taste the air. Those who fear death will never achieve pure power. To which Hobl's voice countered inside her mind. Good slaves follow orders.

Yulie fired a stun ring at him, though she didn't know whether it was because she was upholding Dathomirian Law or because she was compelled to obey. The difference was whether it was her choice or not, and that mattered.

@Reyn

 

[Izel Thral]

While Yulie was facing down Hobl, Izel was facing down the dogs. As the first hound leapt at her she swung the blunt end of her pike around, hitting the creature in the head and receiving a pained yelp in return as it tumbled to the ground. As the next was drawing close she raised one of her legs and kicked it in the gut, causing it to retreat with a whimper. As the third leapt right at her face, jaws agape, the Vratix raised her pike horizontally in front of her body. The creature instinctively bit down on the shaft of her weapon, and she promptly swung it around and sent the beast flying into a tent.

Her antennae twitched, alerting her to another danger, and Izel barely ducked out of the way as a blaster bolt whizzed past her head. It was the sentry. She clicked angrily, and as he fired at her again she turned her pike and deflected the shot, sending it back into the man's kneecap. He cried out in pain and dropped his weapon as he fell to the ground, wailing and holding the injured area as he rocked from side to side. The one remaining skeeris charged at Izel again, but a quick Force push sent it tumbling back into the kennel. A flick of her wrist and the door swung shut and locked again.

Izel extinguished her saber and walked over to the crying ganger, grabbing him roughly by the collar and hoisting him up somewhat as she leaned over to get in his face. "What communication did you send?" She demanded. The ganger squinted and grit his teeth momentarily, fighting back the pain before forcing a grin.

"They all know." He said. "They're all coming for you. They'll be here any moment. You're already as good as paste, bug."

"You're awfully sure of yourself for someone that was trying to run away." Izel replied in a flat, unimpressed tone. She dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and walloped him over the head with her pike, leaving him unconscious like the others. There was still a threat though. Thirteen gangers remained. And Alsuna. And now they knew what was happening. Before she could think on it any more she heard a blaster shot, definitely not a stun shot, and rushed back towards Yulie. She would arrive to find Hobl on the ground very dead, Wezz looking like death, and another stunned ganger just outside the tent. Two more gangers had crawled out, but were on their knees with their hands in the air. Izel looked to Yulie. Her expression would have been unreadable, but her voice was a chaotic mixture of confusion, despair, and urgency at the predicament they were in. "What happened?"

@Zohrael

 

[Yulie]

Pacifying Alsuna’s forces was a battle that Yulie was fighting within her very self, the dual blasters in her hands representing the dueling forces in her mind. Hobl’s taunts had outlived him, surviving as the Dark Side’s voice during her struggle. It begged her to pull the trigger, tormenting her with the means to prove that she had freedom of thought, that she could defy Izel and kill them all, that mindlessly following orders was just consensual slavery. And those men deserved it. Every last one of them deserved a furious blast of molten crimson clean through them.

In the other hand was her modified blaster, gutted of its lethal potential but the greatest threat to her safety. It offered Alsuna’s men a kindness they hadn’t earned, a merciful incapacitation that would preserve their lives no matter what. Regardless of the value their existence held, this blaster honoured it, and spoke only a Jedi’s will through a pale ring of numbing light. This was the Way that Yulie was trying to learn, and relying upon it was to trust in the Force instead of a weapon.

Thermal distortions pulsed from the stun blaster, excess heat venting out of the gaping hole in its side. A second shot marked the air with a warm crackle and a soft, unpleasant smell. When the next men crawled out of the tent, the sight of fallen comrades and a dual-wielding Dathomirian gave them pause. She was right about them: their confidence evaporated quickly when they suffered losses.

Kill one. Only one. As a message to the others. I can make it fast, painless. The others will be too afraid to rise against me. They won’t think of me as a slave anymore. No one will. And I won’t be in danger of this damn blaster going off in my hand.

Her lips curled. She knew damn well what they wanted to do to her on that stage, but her fury was turned inwards. Why did she dip her toes in that lifestyle, and why wasn’t she pulling the trigger? Was it just because she was told only to stun them? Or was it because she was choosing to police the emotions that pave the path of the Sith?

Izel returned before she could find an answer, and asked what had happened.

“Remember when they said they take no prisoners? That wasn’t a standing order, it’s just another way for them to have fun.” Her voice wavered as she held out the blasters for inspection. Yulie was keeping it together, but it was a conscious effort, an effort made easier but not having to keep weapons trained on the conscious men. “Look.”

The blaster with lethal potential hadn’t been fired, not in a while at least. It didn’t have that smell, nor dark spots near the barrel. If Izel was familiar with weapons of this variety, it would be clear this one played no part in Hobl’s fate. The other blaster had a good amount of its insides exposed, and the heat escaping from it was proof of its recent use.

“They welded the lever so it’s stuck on its most lethal setting. All their blasters are like that, but I found a workaround. Without a heat sink, all the thermal radiation is vented to the power cell. It’s basically a bomb if it overheats, so a failsafe puts it into a low-power setting. Fortunately, the stun setting is the low-power setting.”

Yulie then gestured to the Weequay corpse.

“Unfortunately, that guy knew it wouldn’t take long for it to overheat anyways. He also knew that I was ordered to stun everyone, so he tried to force my hand. I’d either blow myself up or be forced to start killing. I couldn’t talk him down, but Wezz shot him before he could try something. The others were more easily pacified.”

The Dark Side lost its sway over the girl, Hobl’s taunts falling silent. Yulie made her choice, abstaining from violence and revenge in favor of honouring the trust that Izel had given her. But from Yulie’s point of view, this was no victory. She had failed to gather together all the men at the base, she failed to stop the fleeing sentry, and Hobl paid for that failure with his life. This plan had hinged upon her to do her part, and she fell short.

Yulie anticipated that this failure would reflect very poorly on her. First the Obelisk, then the signal flare, then the skiff, now this. Every time she tried to be useful, it just seemed to make things harder for the Jedi. Judging by the chaotic tone of Izel’s voice, Yulie expected that Izel would leave her behind on this planet if they couldn’t rescue Isen. Maybe she’d be left behind even if they did rescue him. The vandalized blaster was evidence of her value as a mechanic, but of what other use was she?

“I got the others to back down before the weapon could overheat and then you returned. That’s what happened.” She blinked and her cheeks started to warm, turning a darkening shade of purple. “Oh. Um. And I lost track of one of their guys. I saw ten in total as the skiff touched down, but I don’t know where the last one went…”

She was speaking of the one that Izel knocked unconscious and had stuffed into the skiff. For all Yulie knew, he had made a clean getaway and this would make her look even worse. She thought about suggesting that they take their next step quickly, but this was the time she was usually berated for imperfection and didn't want to speak out of turn.

@Reyn