|SWTOR Fanfic - Sith Marauder
||[Feb. 24th, 2012|08:31 am]
Spoilers for the Sith Marauder storyline.
“Dance the lightning?” Quinn finally asked when Adiira used the phrase for the second time, as they planned their approach to the small spaceship. Jaesa Willsam had contacted her directly, finally, after all the - Adiira could only think of it as courting, like the harrier birds back home - she’d been doing, following Jaesa’s trail from planet to planet, careful to do no more harm than she must. Knowing that Jaesa would be aware of what she was doing. To be accused of “passive-aggressive behavior” bent her double with laughter, after the tense call had ended. To be invited to a meeting... oh, tempting, and so, so likely to be a trap.
She looked at him blankly for a second, coming back from her abstraction. “Oh, I forgot you wouldn’t know. It’s what I called a – I suppose you could call it a training exercise, back in the Academy. The instructors would herd us into the arena and three or four of them would Force-strike the whole ring. The goal was to get out of the lightning. It was painful; it could be deadly if you fell, or someone had a grudge, or one of the instructors wanted to make a point. Getting out unscathed, well, you won the right to more of the instructors’ attention next time. It took a while to learn that lesson.” Quinn winced.
Adiira went on: “It was good training; we learned to feel the Force, to feel where the lightning would strike next. Then they raised the stakes, gave us weapons, said only one would be allowed to leave; the rest would be struck until all were unconscious.” Her face darkened: “I lost a friend that way, injured and too weak to last until the strongest fell. It was fight or flight. If you chose speed, to race clear while the rest fought, it made you a target for the others the next time. Eventually we all learned to fight; there were fewer... repercussions if you fought your way free. And all of us fell to the lightning, one time or another.”
“So it became a catchphrase with us. I use it when our best plan will be dangerous, maybe deadly. Where we will have to be on our top form, and we still won’t escape unscathed. Like this time – this is almost certainly a trap, but we cannot ignore it. We must walk in and break it, for the tiny hope that it’s real.”
They turned their attention back to the scans.
Walking onto the ship, Adiira was aware of the two Force wielders awaiting them, both more powerful than she thought a Padawan should be. It was to be the trap, then, not a meeting after all. That would truly have been a surprise. Now to see what could be wrested from the ambush.
She walked into the cargo bay to confront the two men. By their garb they were Jedi, knights of the Order. One was calm, his aura serene; true Jedi. The other? The other was angry already, eager for violence. She met their accusations with peace, saying only that the angry one had a Sith’s way about him. It was true, and it made him angrier.
His rage flared with each true word, falling like hammerblows in the forge. “I am more balanced than you; I, the Sith apprentice, am the better Jedi.” And it exploded at last when she folded her hands. “You, not I, must strike the first blow.” Prophecy or psychology, it hardly mattered; he roared, and leapt to cut her down. Her saber came up swift as thought to block his strike, and the fight was joined.
The Jedi had not reckoned with her power, nor her allies. She allowed the exhilaration of a hard-won battle to fill her, channeling the excess energy into healing and strength before turning to the true Jedi -- the sole survivor.
“I regret this. I have not lied to you; I did truly come to talk. Go in peace, Jedi, and tell Jaesa Willsam what you have witnessed.”