Remi the Grey

Grey, the bounty hunter, waited for her new clients. The air of mystery surrounding this job left her on edge. Ordinarily, she turned down mystery jobs, but something in her gut told her it was important.

She heard sounds of greeting from the common area then silence. The cantina was never exactly noisy but even the musician stopped playing, that meant these clients were dangerous. She armed the explosives under the table.

The first to enter was a young woman with shoulder length red hair. She had a scar on her cheek, green eyes and generous lips. The lightsaber at her hip marked her as a Jedi. She was followed by a slightly older man wearing a leather duster, he was well groomed for Tatooine, and though his expression was careless and casual his eyes betrayed a keen intellect. Neither of the two would have been cause for much comment on Tatooine. However, the last member of their party, a giant of a man, with red skin and glowing red eyes, would strike fear into the hardiest of Tatooine’s outlaws. He was a Sith. Grey examined the last of the party. He looked exactly as she remembered.

In another life, she had known these people, Kira, Doc, and Lord Scourge. In another life, they had been her friends and crewmates. In another life, they had followed her into the Dark Temple in a desperate bid to defeat the Emperor. In that other life, she had been Jedi Master Remi Syeriy. Then she abandoned that life and left it far behind. Not far enough, she thought.

“Are you Grey, the bounty hunter?” Kira asked taking the lead.

That was not the confirmation phrase Kira, identify who sent you. Remi thought. Kira had been her Padawan once, she never liked following instructions or perhaps she was just testing the strange bounty hunter. Remi raised a finger and two turrets popped up out of the floor.

“Ardun Kothe sent us.” Kira said quickly.

Ardun Kothe, of course. Remi thought, I wonder how much he’s told you. Ardun Kothe was the leader of a special branch of the SIS. He had failed his mission to end the war quickly, but he was still the best information gatherer the Republic had. A former Jedi himself, he offered her another way to make a difference. She accepted, in exchange he helped her disappear. Over the years, as she made her reputation as a bounty hunter crossing back and forth between Imperial and Republic territory, she also gathered information about the Empire’s strengths, weaknesses, troop positions and political state. Remi lowered her finger and the turrets dropped back into the floor.

Remi nodded at the chairs across the table, Doc and Kira sat down, Lord Scourge stood in the doorway keeping an eye on the public room outside. Kira passed her a credit chip and placed a holo-comm on the table. Remi jammed the credit chip into a portable reader, the credits transferred to her Hutt account. A minute later, the holo-comm projected the figure of Ardun Kothe.

“Grey, it’s been too long.” Ardun said. “Now if I know you well enough, I’d appreciate it if you disarm the bombs under the table. I don’t want this communicator to set them off by accident.”

“Not when I haven’t heard a job yet.” Remi replied. She was glad her helmet distorted her voice.

“These are good people.” He sighed sounding tired. Remi nodded, relenting, and flicked a switch under the table. “This is Jedi Knight Kira, her chief medic Doc, and Lord Scourge. Maybe you’ve heard of them?” Remi rolled her eyes at the unsubtle comment. This was Ardun’s way of saying he told them nothing about her. “We need someone who can get this group into enemy territory.” Remi waited in silence. “Dromund Kaas.”

Remi thought about the way she usually landed on Dromund Kaas. “You sure you don’t want me to just detonate the bombs? Less painful that way.”

“If anyone can do it, you can.”

“I don’t suppose you managed to get ID’s so I can just land at the space port and pass customs?” She said hopefully.

“Sorry, this will have to be a hot entry; we’ve got a fix on a good drop off and pick up point. I’ll send the usual fee to your account.”

Remi shook her head. “No way Ardun, it’ll be double.”

“Even for an old friend?” He asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“It’s double for an old friend. Sith are usually triple, you know that.” She said jerking her head at Lord Scourge.

Ardun considered her words; he knew her history with the Sith Lord. “Give me a minute to get back to you.” Ardun’s holograph winked out. She leaned back in her seat. Lord Scourge stared at her.

“Remove your mask, mercenary; I want to see who you are.” Remi suppressed a shiver; she had forgotten the intensity of his gaze. Does he suspect it’s me or is he just cautious?

“Sorry honey, not on the first date.” She replied waving at him lazily, he scowled and looked like he would say more but the projection reappeared.

“Fine, double.” Ardun confirmed. “I got the scramble codes for a freighter. Ghost’s man has them; he’ll be waiting for you in the usual place.”

“Wait, Ghost’s man?” Remi said incredulously.

“Kothe out.” He said and ended transmission.

Remi sat for a minute staring at the holo-comm. She looked up at her former friends who stared back with the eyes of strangers. She sighed, “Cripes, I hate bugs.”

Remi walked up to a cave filled with giant insect eggs in the heart of nobility on Alderaan. The mouth of the cave was set into the hillside but the tunnels ran under House Cortess and possibly a number of other Houses without their knowledge. While technically allied with the Empire, the Killiks were probably closer to independent and certainly had their own hive agenda.

Remi was relieved to see her contact waiting for her. Vector Hyllus, Dawn Herald to the Oroboro Nest, waited at the entrance next to a pair of man sized bipedal insects wielding electrostaves. “Hunter Grey,” Vector began. “We are glad to see you again. May we offer you some membrosia?”

Vector was one of the kindest beings Remi had ever met and apart from the completely black eyes, there was nothing bug-like about his appearance. “No, just the codes. How’s Ghost?” Ghost was Vector’s lover, a human and former member of Imperial Intelligence. Remi did not know the full story of how Ghost and Kothe came to know each other but those intelligence types always had complicated relationships.

Vector handed her a datachip. “She is well,” Vector replied, his smile reaching his jet black eyes. “She is sorry she could not be here. She wanted to thank you again for saving us.” He said referring to their first encounter. Remi had saved Vector from a band of Alderaanian Killik hunters. She noticed the earpiece Vector wore.

Shrugging dismissively, she turned to scan the countryside. She picked a likely spot, and waved at it, a flash of light pulsed a few times in response. She turned back to the surprised Dawn Herald.

“How did you know she was there?” Remi shrugged again, turning to leave without answering. Ghost was the best sniper and stealth operative she had ever seen but when it came to love people got predictable.

Codes in hand Remi met the small group at her favorite landing zone. It was an abandoned shuttle port overrun with Killiks and malfunctioning battle droids. No one else used it so it was perfect for her purposes. She surveyed her ship with pride. From the outside, her ship looked like the unholy mating of a freighter and a small D5-Mantis.

“We’re going in that?” Doc said as the group approached. He stared up at the oddly shaped hull dubiously.

“It’s not too late to grow brains and back out.” She replied, adding. “I keep whatever you’ve already paid though.” Remi walked up the gangplank; the others trailed behind her. They were welcomed by her crew, three astromech droids. She was rather proud of the upgrades she had made to their processors and she never wiped their memory cores. She thought wistfully about T7-01, they would never be as good as the little droid who had become her friend; she hoped he found a better Jedi.

The odd ship’s galley and mess were combined into one small compartment, not surprising for a ship with only one live crewmember. The bounty hunter had arranged the crates of Imperial and Republic rations so that the room could seat three people but it was still cramped. The group ate in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

“What do you think of the mercenary?” Lord Scourge asked.

Kira and Doc exchanged a surprised look. Lord Scourge was not one to start a conversation, especially one that would certainly be overheard by the subject. “Ardun Kothe trusts her.” Kira said uncomfortably. She had not liked how evasive the former Jedi had been when questioned about their contact.

“The trust of a failed Jedi.” Scourge said with contempt. Kira said nothing; it had been hard enough to convince the Sith Lord to come with them. She never learned what happened, one day she was part of a team that saved the galaxy, the next Lord Scourge was banished from Republic space and Master Remi left the Order. Then she just disappeared altogether.

“If you really want to know what’s under that helmet of hers. I bet Ole Doc can get her to open up.” Doc asserted with his trademark confidence. Kira rolled her eyes. He stroked her arm softly. “It’s just intel gathering baby, I wouldn’t take it too far.” Kira blushed, slapping Doc’s hand away.

As charming as he was, she hated his lack of discretion. It was hard enough to get the members of the Council to see her as a competent Jedi; a romantic relationship was one more thing for them to frown upon. When Master Remi left, they had looked to Kira to fill her role, sending her on countless missions to slow the Empire’s advance. She failed and the Empire devoured territory. At first, she had been angry with her former master, now she just wanted to know why she left.

Remi lay on the bed in her quarters watching surveillance footage of her former friends and crewmates. She would not spy on them in their bunks but the public areas were fair game. She watched Lord Scourge pace slowly up and down the corridor. The ship felt cramped to her when she was alone; to someone like him with three other people it must be oppressive. Oh right, she though bitterly. He feels nothing. I should have made his quarters too small for him to lie down. She chuckled at the thought before feeling guilty. She closed her eyes thinking back to those last days on Tython before she threw everything away.


Remi faced Lord Scourge across the practice grounds. A smile hovered about her lips as she watched the Sith Lord circle. They heard the call and began the bout starting with Shii-Cho. The students were familiar with the form; it was the first form they learned in martial combat styles. Shii-Cho was developed during the transition between edged weapons and lightsabers. Novices tended to look clumsy with the standard strike-parry patterns but in the hands of the two masters, the random almost chaotic strikes were like watching water and magma as the red and blue sabers lashed at each other, each attempting to rip the other out of its wielder’s hand.

The call rang out, Lord Scourge kept to Shii-Cho but his strikes became more vicious and deadly. Remi switched to Makashi form. The students were no longer taught Makashi, Soresu was more practical for modern defensive combat, but the point of the lesson was to show all the different forms and how they compare to each other.

The call rang out again Remi switched to Soresu. They continued the demonstration systematically comparing each form until they both used the Juyo, the seventh and most aggressive form. This was the part all the students enjoyed, Lord Scourge and Remi always ended the demonstration with an all-out sparring match that ended only in surrender choosing whatever form made the best counter.

Today Lord Scourge chose Ataru form, the aggressive acrobatics were a crowd pleaser and Remi often wondered if that was why he chose it. It was amazing to watch such a large man leap and spin, light, graceful, and deadly. Remi chose Soresu, patiently waiting for her opening; the form allowed her to conserve energy by efficiently dodging and parrying. She saw her opportunity to strike; normally, she would choose Shien form to go on the offensive. Today she switched to Juyo reaching to the Force to focus a burst of aggressive attacks. The unusual sequence and choice caught Lord Scourge off guard, she moved in for the killing strike reversing her saber at the last moment. Lord Scourge conceded the match.

A young sith looks up with terrified eyes as she moves in for the killing strike. Remi blinked as the memory slipped away. She stepped back bowing to Lord Scourge. He returned the gesture a glint of approval in his eye. She addressed the students waving down their applause. They were so young, too young to know that this was not entertainment, too young to know their elders frowned on accolades for fighting, too young to know that they should be contemplating the different forms and their purpose. They only knew the bout was exciting and one day they would learn to do that.

“All right, who can tell me the weaknesses of the first form?” She asked.

“Master Remi?” Master Kavil called. “A word, if you please.”

Remi had Kira take over the analysis of forms. “Master Kavil?”

“Yes, thank you for taking a moment, we were wondering,” he said gesturing at the other masters who had witnessed the match. “What you are doing teaching the initiates with that Sith?”

Remi glanced back at the Sith Lord who had moved to the shadows of the training grounds. He watched the young Jedi like a manka cat watching a herd after a large meal. Satisfied now, it would feed on them later. “He helps me show the strengths and weaknesses of the different styles. It would be difficult to find another partner who knows all the forms as well as he does.”

His face twitched when she said the word partner. “But he’s a Sith!”

Master Remi tilted her head, “What should I make him do? Harvest crystals and sew Jedi robes?”

Master Kavil set his jaw. The young Master’s penchant for sarcasm never sat well with the older members of the enclave. They felt it was a sign of immaturity; she was not ready to be a master. “You should make him a Jedi or you should never have brought him to Tython! He is a Sith!”

Remi sighed. “As you well know, you can’t Force someone to be a Jedi.”

“Lord Praven became one!”

“I offered him a choice. He was the one who took it.” Remi reminded him. “You also told me one of my duties as a master is to teach here on Tython. You wouldn’t let him wander around Republic space by himself. This is the only logical solution.”

“He’s corrupting the initiates!”

“What?” Master Remi looked over at Scourge who avoided the initiates, padawan, Jedi, and Masters equally.

“They respect him!”

“We should respect our enemies, not for what they do but the danger they represent.”

“They want to be like him!”

“Young men see a powerful man; they want to be powerful too. They will learn that power is not everything that is why they are here.”

“They don’t fear him!”

At this Master Remi laughed. It rang across the courtyard attracting the attention of several student and their teachers. Lord Scourge also looked up from the shadows at Remi. “Well master there is no emotion, there is peace.” Remi said, still smiling. “Unfortunately it’s not true yet; quite a few of the youngsters are terrified of him. But I think if they learn to overcome their fear it’s for the better.” Having said his piece, Master Kavil huffed a bit before he and the other masters left to convene the council. Remi walked back to finish the lesson, she had a feeling she had not heard the last of that conversation.

Remi checked her instrument display. There was not a lot to do on a ship in Hyperspace so she sat back watching the stars flow bye. She saw Lord Scourge approaching, she had avoided talking to the Sith. She was afraid she would reveal herself in some way. She kept her sigh strictly mental and waited for Lord Scourge to speak.

“I wish to speak with you.” The Sith Lord began.

“Speaking costs extra.” She replied, looking back at him. The captain’s chair was elevated so she was almost eye level with the tall Sith. He scowled, as she knew he would, he detested greed. She took a small amount of pleasure at annoying him. She pushed away the guilt.

He pressed on, “I want you to explain how this will work. I am familiar with Dromund Kaas security, this ship will be shot down long before it reaches the planet.”

Remi tapped her fingers on the console. “We put out a signal that we’re a freighter with engine failure carrying important cargo. We make a crash entry, detach from the freighter, detonate the core, and activate stealth. A freighter with the proper ID’s and tags will crash land somewhere and mask our entry. It’s a timing thing. Before you ask, they’d detect stealth on entry, breaking the upper atmosphere is a dead giveaway.” She said waving her hand nonchalantly. “Anyway, I stay low and get you folks to the drop point. Once you’re off you have twenty-four hours to get back to the pickup. I pick you up and we Hyperdrive out of there. If you’re not at the pickup when I get there then I’m gone and I guess you have to renew your citizen card.”

“And who thought of this plan?”

“Yours truly,” she said pointing a thumb at her chest. “Only person with the ship to run it, patent pending.”

“And this has worked before?”

“Sure.”

The Sith Lord considered her words for a moment then turned to leave. “Still going through with it?” Remi called over her shoulder.

“I have survived worse plans.” The Sith Lord said.

Aint that the truth. Remi thought.

It was a ridiculous plan: infiltrate a meeting of the top crime lords in the galaxy posing as Captain Nosc, the ‘Boss of Bosses’. Meanwhile Captain Nosc hides out on Tatooine protected by Lord Scourge and the rest of Remi’s crew. They swapped crews, they switched identities, and it was a trap, for both of them.

Remi reached for the Force. She sensed it waiting, the power of the light; it flowed around her wanting to help her, she opened herself to it. Her eyes glowed white. She fought tirelessly, fear and pain could not touch her. A familiar voice yelled her name, concentration broken she turned in time to see Corso go down. She rushed to stand over him, blocking the blaster fire with her lightsaber; he did not get up. Mercenaries poured in at the end of the warehouse. She looked at the man at her feet; she could not leave him, she was trapped and alone.

Alone, it seemed familiar, a distant memory she could not reach, as if it belonged to someone else. The memory flashed too quickly to be caught, leaving behind a burst of emotions.

Fear, her connection to the light faltered, she grasped for it but her turmoil only pushed it further away.
Pain, a shot slipped through her guard glancing off her thigh. She clenched her teeth trying to focus on her defense, the blaster bolts were not letting up.

Anger, I knew this was a trap, I warned the council. The pain in her leg slowed her movement; once again, she reached for the Force. She sensed it waiting, but it was not the light. It swirled around her, dark and chaotic; it tasted of smoke and death. It rushed to her eagerly asking to be used, asking to use her, as the mercenaries saw their opening and charged.

Hate, senseless mindless violence, these men driven only by greed and lust for power. You want power? Remi inhaled the darkness, feeling it scorch her throat and lungs. Have some. She channeled a blast of rage catching the first wave of mercenaries. Some of them were flung backward, most of them simply fell, all of them died. Her eyes glowed red and she leaped into the next wave.

Darkness.

She is somewhere else. A young Jedi adding her strength to attack the Emperor, she fails. Death is too good for her; she is not allowed to return to the Force. The Emperor twists her mind as he had done to countless before. The image swirls away.

She is someone else. A young Sith acolyte waits in the middle of an empty arena, alone. Several other acolytes watch from the stands above the pit. The overseer calls out something to them, they laugh. She turns slowly studying them. She feels their hatred, but it is petty and thin, it would not make them stronger. She completes her turn, these Sith all young, weak, and stupid, except one. He is not an acolyte, there was no telling his age; from him she feels nothing, but he watches her constantly, measuring, calculating. The other acolytes avoid him she meets his gaze fearlessly.

The far gate opens a company of captured mercenaries file out. They wear mismatched armor provided by their captors, they wield standard Imperial blaster rifles. She turns to asses her challengers. Their task is simple, kill the Sith and they can go free; gullible. They stand apart but not in formation; they were captured individually. Their attention is focused forward, they make no effort to communicate; there is no leader among them. From the front line, she feels arrogance, from the back, she feels fear; the fools die first, the cowards last. They charge hoping to take her in a rush. She snorts derisively flourishing her lightsaber as she waits for them to get within shooting range.

She leaps high, clearing their first wave of fire. They adjust their shooting angle but she moves too quickly. An errant bolt hits an acolyte standing above the arena instead. She lands on top of a man wearing a battered trooper helm. It does not save him; the Force of her fall breaks his neck. She crouches low, letting the fools shoot their comrades in panic. She feeds on their pain converting it to raw power as she lashes out with a wave of Force. Another line falls. She rushes forward, there are still many. She leaps again, they expect her to avoid being surrounded but she welcomes it taking their blasters and numbers out of the equation using their bodies as shields. Spinning, slashing, and leaping, the only dance she has ever known. The mercenaries fall, and now there are few.

The last two mercenaries attempt to flee. There would be no escaping the arena but their panic overwhelms them. She throws her lightsaber at the closest. It spins through the air cutting through his helmet and his hastily thrown up arm before returning to her hand. She strides toward the last man. He reaches the end of arena and pounds on the door. He jumps desperately; his hands scrape at the smooth walls as he tries to climb out. He slips, the fall knocks his helmet off, and it spins away from him. He slithers toward it on his belly, crying and begging for his life. She walks up to his pitiful form, her odd yellow eyes study him, she gestures with her hand snapping his neck. The door opens.

She walks out of the arena; forty-five mercenaries and one acolyte do not.

Remi blinked looking around; the warehouse was dark and silent. She rushed to Corso heedless of the bodies that lay strewn around her, he groaned, still unconscious. He’s not dead. Relief swept over her. She knelt beside him and gave him the last of the kolto; the smell of blood and death was oppressive. She closed her eyes to center herself reaching for the Force. It flowed around and through her. The whirling darkness retreated satisfied for now.

They limped out of the warehouse; fifty mercenaries did not.

Remi’s holocommunicator beeped as they reached the relative safety of the speeder terminal. “Remi,” Risha said without preamble. “I hope your meeting is over we need you back on the ship, the Captain’s in trouble.”

“I know.” Remi said and disconnected the call. She helped Corso into the back of the speeder. “Spaceport, hurry.” She said shortly. The Evocii driver nodded subserviently and guided the vehicle into traffic. They headed to the Nar Shadaa spaceport, Remi wondered if they were already too late.

On board the XS Freighter, Remi contacted the Jedi Council. “Master Kavil, the meeting was a setup. Lord Ebon is planning an attack on Tattooine. There’s an army of Exchange and Black Sun heading to Anchorhead, the Captain and my crew are in trouble.”

“Calm yourself Master Remi. We received a distress signal from the Captain. The Republic is dispatching additional troops to Anchorhead as we speak.” Relief flooded through Remi, she sagged against the console.

“How long until they touch down?” she asked, knowing every minute would count.

“Two days.” She heard gasps behind her as the crew listened in. That would never be in time.

“Two days?” She repeated in disbelief. “Are they walking? Anchorhead will be overrun in two days. You said you’d have back up ready for them if it was needed!”

“The criminals have set up anti-air defenses in the wastes. We can’t just land forces at the spaceport.” He replied. That means the Scourge and the others can’t escape either. Remi thought.

“The citizens have been instructed to evacuate to their dwellings, we believe they can hold out until reinforcements arrive. We need you to return to Tython to give your full report.” Master Kavil continued blithely. “I know you are worried about your friends, but the Republic army can handle their rescue.” That’s a lie. Remi seethed. My friends are just expendable to you.

“As you wish Master.” Remi bowed to the holograph and cut the transmission.

“We’re not really going to Tython are we?” Corso asked, he looked tired and battered, but he hefted his rifle in challenge. The rest of the crew moved to surround her.

“We are,” she said through clenched teeth. “After we save our friends.” The crew relaxed, they had not wanted to mutiny against the Jedi, but they would rather die on the ship than abandon their Captain. “How long till we arrive.”

“Two days,” Risha replied without having to calculate. “Even in this ship we’ll never get there in time. ”

Remi stalked to the navi-console and tapped in a new route, a fast Hyperspace route between Nar Shadaa and Tattooine. The Order had discovered it and kept it on an astrogation computer; it sat in the ruins of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, until Remi helped recover it. Giving the route to a band of smugglers was not exactly treason, but she was sure she would be reprimanded. They can just add it to the list. She thought grimly.

Risha studied the new coordinates. “Four hours, she announced.” The rest of the crew ran off to prepare.

“Do you have a way for me to get to the surface through the anti-air?” Remi asked.

Risha smiled with none of her usual cheer, “Yeah, we call it the XS Freighter Flyby.”

Lord Scourge leaned against a bulkhead in the tiny ship’s corridor. Half of his attention was on Doc and Kira, the other half on the bounty hunter piloting the ship. He had taken to speaking with her from time to time, conversing with her felt familiar to him. He had spent much of the past years alone and while she kept her comments to a few sarcastic remarks, she was intelligent and listened well.

He turned his attention back to his companions. To their surprise, the mercenary had assumed they would share quarters. While they had not bothered to hide their relationship from him, they had thought it was a secret to everyone else. His lips twisted with amusement, if so the Council is blind. He remembered the first time he saw the spark of their relationship, his amusement faded.


The doctor worked furiously running back and forth between his patients. They had fallen back to the spaceport in Anchorhead. He set up a triage center behind the Defender in the open-air hangar. His patients were made up of the civilians that could not make it to their homes or those who chose to stand and fight instead. The group was pinned down by anti-air guns and an army of hardened criminals.

“What the stars are they after?” Captain Nosc asked. She was dressed as the Jedi Master Remi. She was supposed to be a decoy but she was not supposed to be bait.

“My guess is Remi, you better get out of those clothes.” Doc said. Kira shook her head with disgust, the doctor and smuggler had been flirting heavily for the entire mission. “For once, that’s NOT what I meant.” He snapped. His temper was always a little short when there were wounded to attend.

“I better help Scourge.” Kira said apologetically. She turned to Nosc, “He’s right, if they’re after Remi, you don’t want to look like her right now. Go change, then stay here and protect Doc and the wounded.” Kira ran off toward the Sith Lord who despite being overwhelmingly outnumbered was keeping the thugs in a bottleneck at the hangar door. Rusk lay down cover fire.

Lord Scourge fought the seemingly endless wave of thugs and criminals. His Soresu form had improved since he met the Jedi. He had watched her both as a Jedi and as a Sith. She was a gifted duelist, sparring with her gave him insights into martial skills that he had not learned in the more than three centuries before she was born. He saw an opening and switched to Shien form taking down a wave of assailants using their own blasters against them.

Kira arrived, fighting beside him, she could not compare to the Jedi but her abilities were sufficient. The criminal’s numbers began to thin. They soon discovered it was not due to their success; the criminals were allowing someone through.

A powerful Sith and his three apprentices appeared; the wave of thugs parted to let them through then closed behind them. “The Emperor’s Wrath and the Emperor’s Daughter defending the Emperor’s assassin.” Darth Ebon laughed. His mouth formed a rictus in a gruesome parody of mirth. He gestured sending lightning at Kira. She caught the energy with the tip of her lightsaber but the pain sent her staggering backwards. His apprentices rushed forward forcing Scourge and Kira to retreat.

Doc had just finished tending to a moisture farmer with blaster wounds when three Exchange mercenaries unstealthed in behind him. Without hesitation, Doc spun around drawing his blaster and shot the first two thugs before they were fully visible. The third, a giant Nautilan wearing heavy armor slapped his pistol aside. “Where’s the Jedi?” The mercenary demanded knocking Doc off his feet with the butt of his rifle. Doc scuttled backward under the rows of tables set up for patients. The Nautilan followed him laughing. Doc reached the end of the row; his hands scrabbled under a table pulling it over him to use as a shield. The Nautilan laughed again, “I can shoot you through the table little man.”

“Great idea,” Doc said, blasting the Nautilan with a scattergun he had hidden there. The powerful shot sent shrapnel through the table into the alien’s face.* The mercenary went down and did not rise. The doctor stood up grabbing his blaster from where it fell.

Nosc did not like fighting large groups, especially not alone, she used every dirty trick she had to keep the thugs from overwhelming her. Finally, two of the men fell from their wounds; the last, she shot in the face with her scattergun while he was distracted by the loss of his comrades. Doc ran to her side surveying the fight. One of the apprentices was down but now they had changed their tactics trying to separate Scourge and Kira. The Darth had been focusing on Scourge when suddenly he whirled and hit Kira with lightning. Unprepared the lightning picked her up and threw her like a ragdoll, her lightsaber fell from her grasp. The apprentices saw their opportunity and closed in.

Cursing, Lord Scourge leaped over the Darth Ebon and threw his lightsaber at the nearest apprentice. Too intent on the disarmed and wounded Jedi, the apprentice did not see the spinning saber until it was too late. His saber cut down the apprentice and returned to his hand just in time for Scourge to block the Darth’s next attack. The second apprentice still loomed over Kira, Scourge would not be able to save her.

Doc had already started running when he saw Kira go down. He had no idea what he was doing charging a Sith. He tackled the hooded man simultaneously stabbing him in the chest with a syringe. They fell to the ground, Doc backed up quickly, stumbling on the dusty ground, his heart pounding. The apprentice lay frozen by the fast acting paralytic. Doc grabbed Kira under the arms and dragged her toward the triage area. Once there he frantically checked her wounds administering kolto and adrenals. He alternated between checking her pulse and hugging her trying to get her to regain consciousness. Finally, her eyes fluttered open.

“Doc?” Kira asked trying to sit up. Nosc and Doc both held her down. “What happened?”

“I saved your life beautiful,” Doc said trying to keep his voice from shaking. “That means you owe me a date.”

* I may have ripped that part off from Die Hard

Remi checked the console, still a few more hours. She compulsively checked the instruments, the freighter, the codes, the sensors, the stealth generator, the engine. Lord Scourge walked onto the bridge taking his usual spot in the corner facing her. After their first conversation, he had often returned to speak with her.

He spoke to her about the Sith, the Emperor and his vision, the Jedi, all laced with his unique perspective on people. She wondered why he would tell these things to a mercenary. Not that she didn’t enjoy the conversations. She had missed his insight and his stories, but she wondered if he was trying to get her to slip up. If he suspects, why doesn’t he just say something. Then she remembered the last thing he said to her. She resolved to keep their conversations limited.

“Do you know the story of the Emperor’s defeat?” he asked.

“Is there a reason you keep coming to talk to me? Can’t you go talk to your friends or something?” She said feigning annoyance.

“The ship is small, they are in their quarters copulating, I would prefer not to hear them.”

Remi stared at Lord Scourge for a moment then burst into laughter. He nodded at her patiently waiting for an answer to his first question. “Bunch of people went to the Dark Temple and killed him.” She said simply.

“It was more complicated than that.”

“Most jobs are.” She agreed. Then she sat back to listen to his tale of how she used to be a hero.