A Thorn for a Butcher Bird

[Maris Fero]

[Storage Chamber XL - Z23, MezNez Casino, Efavan, Vorzyd]​

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Maris had arrived at the designated time and location Enyo had specified at least three minutes earlier than she had been asked to attend; The boss was notoriously punctual and expected the same from her people, it was a trait Fero had found more useful as time had gone on. There was something reassuringly predictable about a timely, predictable dictatorship that she thought must have been one of the selling points of distant stellar empires such as the First Order or the Empire.

Since Hoth, Maris had taken more time to study the politics of the universe at large; Never again, she swore, would the Shrike ever be so woefully underprepared and ill-informed about a mission, destination or adversary. Naivety had almost killed her on the Ice World; That, the cold and the frething robots.

The experience had been a harsh reminder to Maris of just how small she was in the universe at large, as much as it was a taste of relative freedom. Vorzyd was a chain, holding the former-ganger back.

Former.

When had she stopped considering herself a ganger? She had always considered herself a Shrike for as long as Maris could recall, but only in the most recent days had Maris come to consider herself solely in the singular, the definite article. The Shrike. The identity was no longer tied to the that of her gang; just one of Enyo’s gangs now, of course.

Instead, Maris was now someone new. Or at least, she would be, once the transformation was complete.

Many things would change over the course of her evolution. Some things, however, would remain the same. Envy and a deep-seated sense of anger at injustice would persist.

They all had lightsabers: Enyo, Amara, Libertas. Even the geek Thuella had a damned light sword. And Enyo had trained her too. Maris had smothered her outrage at the time but the youth still bristled at the thought - and questioned privately why Enyo had not chosen to teach Maris, her talented apprentice.

She had confronted her Boss with a little more caution, a suggestion by the Shrike that with the success of their mission, she wanted to learn more. And to wield a more effective weapon.

And so she had found herself here, waiting within an echoing storage chamber beneath the MezNez, a cavernous void that still smelled vaguely of the Hutt’s favourite delicacies.

---

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]


To covet something another possessed was a very organic trait. Another one's fortune aroused one's envy. Moira Skaldi and Maelion Liates, her makers, had resented being at the beck and call of inferior, illogical organics. Having come to the conclusion that they were superior beings, they had come up with the notion of a pure Galaxy without organics. One could speculate whether the memories of their organic lives had unconsciously influenced them.


Enyo had grown up feeling jealous of Siobhan Kerrigan to the point of hating her. Siobhan had everything, while she had grown up with nothing. She was adored by millions of mindless followers who gladly gave up their lives for her vainglorious crusades. Over time Enyo had lost the appetite. Her template had...stopped being relevant to her. One day her body would wither away, while Enyo endured. The Cyborg would've stood in her shadow forever if she didn't stop thinking about her. Instead, she let go and became stronger.


Maris wanted to be someone else. Someone of significance. Others in her midst had light-swords and she did not. Enyo had bestowed her favour upon her siblings in ways she had not done to the young ganger. Even to a shy geek like Thuella. The relationship between Dark Master and apprentice was never a harmonious one characterised by sunshine and rainbows. Maris was stubborn, willful and adaptive. These qualities made her useful. They meant she did not need to be remote-controlled. They also made her prideful. This was a potentially dangerous combination. She needed to understand her place in the pecking order, but not to the extent that she was alienated. That would be...unfortunate. Enyo had invested quite a bit in her. It would be a pity if she had to process her.


The Cybog stepped into the storage chamber. There was a strong scent in the air. Like apparently all members of his race, the casino's former owner had been extremely gluttonous. He was long gone, but the smell still lingered. When she wanted to be, Enyo could move rather quietly, despite weighing more than her frame would suggest. She had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

 

[Maris Fero]

It was only in the familiar gloom and the close shadowed corners of the Efavan underlevels that the Shrike truly felt at home. Despite the odour of rotten and discarded pickled crustaceans and the flickering or faulty light fittings, the chamber Enyo had chosen was the natural territory of the youthful gloomstalker.

She had slinked through the darkness like some prowling felid, exploring the space with the practised care of her trade, her own steps next to silent as she padded about the chamber in silence. She had brought little with her, wearing a grey vest top and dark cargo pants, soft soles and fingerless black gloves. The girl's hair was braided and twisted into a neat bun to avoid her long locks interfering with any physical exercise her Master might prescribe. She had left the cruel ceramic blade with the vicious tapered edge in her chambers, eschewing even the shock baton, an item she hadn’t dared travel without over the last two years.

Maris had brought only her wits, her speed, her talent and her ambition. Oh, and that envy that seemed to seep from her pores when she even considered [member="Amara Zarides"] or Thuella.

The young woman’s face flicked up from a detail on the crate she had climbed to track the faint sounds of another soul entering the chamber. Crouching low and laying herself flat atop a long container crate, almost languid in the motion; the shadow peered over the edge of her vantage just enough to watch the approach, before rolling sideways to drop from the plasteel box and land in a crouch a little ahead of Enyo, looking up at her Master slowly.

Nailed it. She was so cool it almost hurt.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

Like a predator, Maris dropped down the long container crate, landing gracefully in a crouch ahead of Enyo. The Cyborg's expression was an impassive one. Maris was probably used to it by now. Indeed it might be more unnerving if Enyo actually had a different one for a change.

"You have served me well," she said without preamble. This was as close to a compliment as Enyo tended to get. "But service to me requires your role to evolve and for you to grow, both skill-wise and mentally," she continued. Her tone was not mocking, but remained matter-of-fact. She put down the bag.

"You are full of cunning and ambition...and envy. Your emotions betray you. You wear them too openly. They can be your fuel, but also blur your judgement." The Cyborg unzipped the duffel bag and removed an item. "What do you know about lightsabres?"

 

[Maris Fero]

It was all she could do not to withhold a purr of satisfaction in the brief moment of scant praise Enyo ever offered. In this private place, with her mental guard lowered, the reaction would be almost as clear as if she had emitted the sound to one with her Master’s perception.

As ever the praise was short-lived and meagerly offered, almost as soon as she had paused the cyborg criminal suggested that she still needed to improve if she was to ‘evolve’. It was an intriguing word, as troubling as it was alluring; Other than Amara and Thuella almost every other member of Enyo’s organisation seemed to have been cybernetically augmented in some fashion, from the subtle touch to the brutally obvious adaptations. Was this synthetic evolution that Enyo espoused?

Maris had assumed that her master was flesh and blood once and Enyo was certainly powerful, most surely changed and strengthened beyond the norm, made more durable and survivable - but in the path to progress, she had become something less than human.

The Shrike watched the weight of the duffel fall to the floor and estimated the weight of the contents by habit. As a street thief, it was never a good idea to try to snatch a bag and discover that you couldn’t even lift it.

"You are full of cunning and ambition...and envy. Your emotions betray you. You wear them too openly. They can be your fuel, but also blur your judgement."

The first statement rang true, but at the suggestion of envy the young woman tensed - a denial coming to her lips caught short only by Enyo’s continuing words.
She swallowed, awkward as she disagreed with her Master, “I’ve practised, I’ve hidden my emotions for years, I’m great at it - it’s how I got to where I am.”

Her words were true enough, in the traditional sense - when she was in character Maris face was a mask of whatever emotion she wished to project and, as far as she knew, she was hiding those same emotions from the force sensitive.

Of course, she had absolutely no idea that the last belief was woefully inaccurate.

When Enyo retrieved an object from the bag and spoke again Maris rose to her full height, suddenly in rapt attention. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she began to reply, slowly, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

“It’s the weapon you carry, it hums in the air and burns cold, but cuts through everything,” when considering the oddly coated droids they had encountered she adjusted the answer quickly, “- Almost everything, It’s a lightweight weapon, and it seems to be able to block a blaster bolt.. And everyone who went to Hoth wielded one, except me.”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

And everyone who went to Hoth wielded one except me.

"And that is why you crave it? Because the fact that you do not have one puts them above you in the food chain. It makes you jealous that even a geek like Thuella has one while you, a predator, do not. Because you desire its power and strength."

"There is much craving attached to such a tiny thing of light. A lightsabre - any weapon - only achieves its worth in how it is wielded. In the effort, in the struggle of the one who holds it. A tool does not make you mighty by itself." She pressed the activation stud and the lightsabre ignited with a snap-hiss, producing a burning sapphire blade. It pierced the darkness inside the storage room a bit.

"You are correct about the basics though. It weighs next to nothing, yet you can hack off limbs and cleave through most materials with it, block and even reflect a blaster bolt. It will fare poorly as a defence against a slugthrower or if you are surrounded by rapid fire blaster-wielders and shot at from multiple directions though." She deactivated the sabre. "You will be trained in its use. If you earn it, you shall have one. Then you will be taught how to construct your own."

 

[Maris Fero]

"And that is why you crave it? Because the fact that you do not have one puts them above you in the food chain. It makes you jealous that even a geek like Thuella has one while you, a predator, do not. Because you desire its power and strength."

Maris' lips twitched in a momentary frown as Enyo suggested that she might be jealous of Thuella. Her ego was able to see past the truth of the words and raise another argument, one equally true but still incapable of invalidating Enyo’s point.

“No! - I-Its you.” she blurted, shaking her head in denial as she looked decidedly awkward. “I don’t care what they think, I want it because it is the weapon you choose. Because, well. Because I desire the same power and strength I see in you.”

As the youth finished her eyes dropped from Enyo’s gaze, her cheeks flushed as she suddenly became overly interested in the arrangement of floor tiles. Maris had surprised herself with the truth and convictions of her words, what otherwise might have sounded as pure flattery was instead offered with an earnest honesty.


When Enyo had continued, the Shrike paid attention to the lesson, though it stank of chastisement as much as it felt like a coming reward. Her focus was immediately drawn to the sapphire blade, the cool glow illuminating the space with an eery light. The weapons movements in the dark were mesmerising, Maris had never seen such a blade truly stilled since her first run-in with Enyo Typhos. When the sword was deactivated the Shrike looked up to her Master with earnest features, the diligent student.

“I will earn it, Boss.”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

For just a moment, the viper's well-crafted mask of deception and cockiness slipped. Before the ganger could control herself, the words had leapt from her tongue. The moment they had, the girl's averted her gaze, her chees flushed. Her body language and tone told Enyo that the girl had not been trying to butter her up.

Then the mask was on again. "Good," Enyo spoke softly. There was a brief pause. "Apprentice." A word the Cyborg had never used in connection with Maris before. She handed her the lightsabre, letting the ganger grasp its unignited hilt.

"A Jedi would bore you by filling your head with hypocritical purple prose about this being an 'elegant weapon for a more civilised time' and how it is an 'instrument of peace'. The Sith of today would tell you that you must use it to pursue a millennia-old grudge and serve a debauched, would-be 'god-emperor' and his spawn. We do not shackle our minds with delusions like that. Or lie to ourselves about what we are. Activate the sabre."

 

[Maris Fero]

Apprentice?

The title was newly given and almost with reluctance, as if it was bearing a deeper meaning than the obvious. Maris accepted the offered hit, a minor effort made to controlling the slight tremble in her hand as she took up the cold smooth metal of the sabre’s grip.

If anything the weapon felt a little heavier than she had expected, the grip longer in her slim hands, the sturdiness of the construction had been unexpected too. Enyo waxed on the opinions of the Jedi and Sith concerning such weapons. The fallacy in both viewpoints seemed glaringly obvious to the shrike as she turned it over in her hand, feeling the weapon roll in her palm. A weapon like this could be as much an instrument of brutal ends as elegance, as much a tool of freedom as it might be a duty of service.

“What are we?” she asked again, a question she had posed to Enyo several times before, seemingly still uncertain of the true answer “...Powerful, and free.” she suggested in a breath as she checked the direction the weapon was pointing before igniting it one more, the cold blue glow bathing her face once more.

It wasn’t her colour.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

"Yes. Unchained. We are beyond labels. We forge our own, taking what works from others but holding no allegiance to them." The lightsabre bathed Maris' face in its cerulean light. Enyo retrieved the lightsabre hanging on her belt. Unlike the one Maris held, this one had crossguards. Those were useful for had protection and sneak attacks.

Especially if you designed your weapon properly, unlike an emo Ren who got beate by a salvager who had never used a lightsabre before, but this one digresses. "This is how you remove and insert the lightsabre's power cell," Enyo explained, demostrating. "Do it." She let Maris repeat the move a couple times.

Then Enyo ignited her lightsabre. Its blade burnt with a purple light. "We start with the basic stance. A lightsabre relies on shape more than a regular sword. It can hurt you as much with a good touch as a heavy swing. If anything, finesse is more important than muscles," she spoke.

"Greater strength can help a lightsabre duellist bring greater pressure on an enemy, for instance to knock their blade out of their grasp. But the weapon's relative lack of mass compared to a conventional sword limits this. You already focus more on precision than physical power, so that is a good basis for you." She entered the basic opening stance, legs apart, facing forward, blade angled forward at forty-five degrees. For the time being, she left out talk about forms. They could get to that once Maris had the basics down pat.

 

[Maris Fero]

Unchained.

The words Enyo spoke rang true to the impressionable youth. Her focus switched from the blade to Enyo and back as Maris considered the wider lesson she had been imparted with.

Take what works.

The newly named apprentice watched her Master’s demonstration with every sign of care and diligence, carefully repeating the motions displayed by Enyo. The first attempt was successful, if clumsy. The parts of the two sabers were subtley different despite the similar design principles, and the housing was stiffer than the cyborgs effortless strength had suggested. By her third practise attempt the Shrike appeared to have the knack for that simple task.

When Typhos moved on to demonstrate stance and take up a ready position Maris followed suit. In this, at least, the young woman was more naturally adept. She had trained for much of her life to mimic the poise and movements of others, her natural sense of balance was developed beyond any peer she had come across. And then there was the dancing, the secret lessons she had kept from Enyo, or which Enyo had generously overlooked without comment at least.

She stood as a mirror to Enyo, though slighter, shorter and paler in aspect, The blade was held to match Enyo’s and Maris let the point drift left and right a fraction, feeling the minute change in weight were a physical blade would have been more obvious.

“It’s as if the blade were not there.”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

"Almost nothing, but deadly. In time wielding it will become natural. You can adjust the blade's power setting here. We shall set it on the lowest power for now." In the interest of keeping Maris from accidentally cuttng her fingers off. Admittedly that would be one way for her to get a cybernetic Phrik hand that shoots laser beams, but this one digresss.

Regardless, Enyo showed her how to do it, then let Maris set her blade. She made her repeat the process a few times. Then some more stances. Then Maris finally got to do something with her new toy when Enyo led her to a training dummy. "Attack it. Get a feeling for the blade." She demonstrated some attacks against specific target zones, such as torso, limbs, joints and throat, intermixing powerful slashes with sharp jabs and cuts. Then let Maris do it.

 

[Maris Fero]

In time wielding it will become natural.

It felt anything but natural at that moment; The balance felt wrong, the blade of the weapon weighed nothing and despite the careful counterweight of the hilt it still seemed unnatural. The two-handed grip was equally odd to Maris, who had never really wielded anything heavy or long enough to require such a style; There stance felt stiff to her - as if a loss of speed and manoeuvrability would hamper her abilities.

Stop complaining, She’s just given you a lightsaber and all you can think to do is gripe about it.

The Shrike was excellent at following instructions when it was in her interest to do so, dutifully turning the power level of the weapon down and hearing the hum of the blade lower in frequency as she did so. The stances were copied and replicated, though there was a touch of silken grace to the young woman’s movements that risked betraying the clandestine lessons she had arranged with the ballet tutor, a flourish that Enyo would doubtless see little value in.

When it came time to attack, Maris did so with vigour - her opening slashes telegraphing the lack of experience with such a weapon. It was fair to say that the raven-haired youth looked both stiff and awkward. She stuck at it, for a few moments, before releasing one hand of her grip and stepping in closer to land a low backhand slash that rose across the targets chest to the opposite shoulder. She reversed her grip in a deft twist, to return the blow downward, hearing the solid light blade thrum past her ear, catching the scent of burnt hair as she managed to catch the edge of her bun with the searing edge.

Maris stopped and swallowed, taking a reverse step and returning to Enyo’s two-hand grip, open stance and looking at the wisps of fallen black hair on the floor.

“Maybe more jabbing for a while..”


[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

There had been something unnecessarily fancy when Maris emulated her stances, but the Cyborg did not give it much thought at this juncture, though she filed it away. Enyo's expression remained dispassionate when the young acolyte struggled with the blade. Her placid expression did not waver when a wisp of Maris' raven hair fell to the floor. She did not look sympathetic, but als not annoyed. Her mechanical nature encouraged patience. It was natural that Maris struggled. The question was whether she could overcome it.

"Focus. One lapse of concentration could see your enemy's blade piercing you...or your own. To use this weapon well is a mark of skill because it requires complete focus and control. There is no forgiveness with a lightsabre; it has no safe mode. You win or you die."

"Try again," she ordered. "One lapse, Maris. You must never have one lapse." And so the Cyborg would have Maris attack the dummy again and again, making her intermix slashes with stabs. If the girl showed signs of growing fretful, bored or tired, Enyo would use the Force to subtly tag the blade this way and that.

 

[Maris Fero]

She nodded at Enyo’s advice but there was a touch of doubt there. She voiced her concern to her Master as she moved through the same moves Enyo had instructed her before.

“I’ve never fought a dummy, It feels unnatural to just swing this around without opposition. Without someone trying to kill me.” she admitted, slowing her strokes to better understand the rhythm of the moves and forms, “Win or Die, thats just life where I grew up.”

She kept at the practice, switching strikes as Enyo commanded. The movements became simpler, less forced, but she still yearned for the freedom to use all of her deft dexterity.

“Who taught you to do this, Boss?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

"You cannot run before you know how to walk. Without getting the basics down pat, you would be more of a danger to yourself than an enemy who's actually fighting you," Enyo remarked matter-of-factly.

"I was trained by an Eldorai. Her kind resemble humans, but have pointed ears, a longer life span and an almost universally snobbish attitude. She was made an outcast for refusing to be a drone to aristocratic parasites." Talsir had been hired by Enyo's creators to forge her into a living weapon. Thus she had been part of the deception. Enyo, strangely enough, did not hold it against her. It had been business. She'd trained her well.


"My training took place on Gehenna. A volcanic world of endless desert wastes, jagged rock and mountains. The atmosphere is toxic. You cannot walk upon its surface without a sealed suit. Its lakes are lava. Fall into them and all that shall wash upon the shore will be charred flesh and bones. There is no life outside of its extensive cavern systems. There, away from the burning sun, monsters, insane cultists and savages lurk." Years ago Enyo's template had led an army to Gehenna. They had suffered horrible casualties, but she had defeated the Bando Gora and slain their Dark Lord. However, their remnants and the monstrosities they had spawned still populated the hellish planet.

Now, why was Enyo getting so wordy? The question would solve itself, for five training remotes had appeared in their midst. They were very fast, yet deceptively quiet. It came in handy that thanks to technomancy, Enyo could command them to show up with a thought. Their lasers were set to stun, but with the pain setting amped up. Without further ado, they targeted Maris.

 

[Maris Fero]

Maris had harboured no expectation that her question would be answered with anything more than a perfunctory statement, if not simply dismissed out of hand. So it came as a moderate surprise when Enyo replied with what, for Enyo Typhos, was a detailed story.

The Eldorai were immediately cast in an ill light when her Boss caricatured their demeanour as snobbish; Still more so as she described the outcasts choice of exile or life beneath a parasitic aristocracy - which Maris assumed were the exile’s own people.

Gehenna, too, was filed away as important in the young woman’s growing picture of who Enyo Typhos was and where she had been birthed.

The world was casually described as a burning hellscape, with toxic air, arid lifeless wastelands and jagged mountain chains with rivers of lava. Maris had seen a Holomovie once about mountains called Volcanos, about lava and the smell of burning rocks. She recalled the faces of the other underkids as they watched the jacked movie feed in rapt silence, eyes wide as the flames projected across faces that had rarely if ever seen the light of the sun.

Caves were almost inviting, the dark and the enclosed spaces rarely held any fear for the Shrike, but the description of the monsters that lived below still gave her pause. First Hoth, now Gehenna, Enyo did frequent some of the least hospitable spots Maris could imagine, no wonder the slum levels of Vorzyd had been on her list.

“Whats a cultist?” she asked earnestly, having promised herself to never be caught so incredibly underprepared as she had been, almost freezing her nose off in the icy wastes of Hoth.

That coming answer was the least of her concerns in the following seconds. Maris was given pause when she noted the delicate sounds like near silent turbines or manoeuvring systems that had almost escaped her attention amongst the echoing sounds of the darkened chamber, the unusually verbose Enyo Typhos and the noise of her own practice with the thrumming energy blade.

With a sharp intake of breath she ducked a whizzing object; Droids maybe, moving in the shadows, darting quickly and seeming to focus their movements to surround and envelop Maris. The shortest glance at Enyo’s face displayed no concern nor attention has being given to the drones themselves, she simply watched her ‘student’.

Five - No, six maybe? No. Five. She eyed the remotes warily, turning to keep her blade tracking at least one of the little objects, switching to a closer target as the first jinked out of range and back. Suddenly a crackle of discharge lit up the part of the chamber behind her with a dull flash as a green bolt of blaster fire was fired from one of the drones, catching Maris squarely in the spine and causing her to yelp in pain, wincing and spinning to face a new threat, sabre humming through the air toward were she imagined the offending device to be.

A second and third blast caught her in the right shoulder and then the left hip, more cries and then a hiss as the pain coursed from each impact, her eyes had narrowed, lips pulled back into a toothy snarl. Her heart rate increased, and she felt the buzz of energy in her limbs as her metabolism kicked up into an excited state.

In the instant, before a fourth shot would have triggered the azure blade darted out in a jab to catch the drone mid surge, sparking and spluttering as the impacted tech slagged. The fifth shot keening in her ear Maris darted forward and dodged the bolt, swinging out and missing the drone as it hovered back lightly. Bolt six caught her square in the thigh and staggered the youth, swearing aloud as she steadied herself, unguarded in her words as the frustration continued.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

Enyo watched dispassionately while Maris faced off against the small swarm of remotes. "Deflect their bolts," she ordered. "You have the Force. Stretch out with your senses. Let it show you from where their bolts will come." Luke Skywalker had only had to face off against one remote! Said remote had also fired a blaster with a lower firing rate. It had probably also stung less. The remaining remotes would swarm out to try ad encircle Maris, coming at her from different angles to put her under continuous fire. Moving in sync, they coordinated their actions, whilst trying to stay out of the trajectory of her blade.

 

[Maris Fero]

[SIZE=11pt]“Deflect their bol-” Maris had been midway through a moderately unkind but eerily accurate echo of Enyo’s advice when the next shot connected with her jaw, bringing the backchat to an abrupt end as was replaced with another stream of curses that had never been heard outside of the Lower-L. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Was Enyo in direct control? Had that been a punishment? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]In a burst of unleashed frustration she lashed out again, her blade shifting in an arc to connect with nothing, at the same time her offhand had left the blade again and tracked the course of the remote drone that had just stung her with unerring precision, despite her focus being elsewhere. She closed her fist, catching nothing but air, but even so the guilty mechanism bent, twisted and then crumpled as if crushed in a compactor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]To Maris greater surprise the course of her blade swing had connected with the other drones bolt, though it had ricocheted harmlessly into the crate stacks. Two down, Three to go. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The angered snarl shifted to a feral grin.[/SIZE]

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Maris Fero"]

"Desist," Enyo commanded. The remotes ceased fire and backed off, moving away from Maris so that they were out of range of her blade. She glanced towards her student, then took a blast shield helmet out of her duffel bag. The kind of helmet Luke had had to wear during his training session with Obi-Wan.

"Put this on - with the blast shield down. Then start again. Your eyes can deceive you. Sense the machines and their attacks with the Force alone." Once Maris had put the helmet on, the remotes would attack again. However, one thing was different now. One of the remotes would not fire its mini blaster. Instead it would attack her with a miniature version of an ion paddle beamer.

A paddle beamer fired a paralysing beam that could not be deflected by a lightsabre. It was possible to alter the frequency of a lightsabre to deflect, though not stop reflect the beam, but this would make the blade incapable of blocking normal blaster bolts. Enyo found the name silly, but liked paddle beamers. They were useful for capturing Force-Users.