But of course
Connel Vanagor
wasn't wrong.
The pair arrived to the drop-off location and put the drum where they had been told by the two men. But before they could even turn to find a hidey hole from which to clandestinely reconnoiter, the presence of multiple individuals became apparent.
"Oh boys," Andromeda murmured under her breath as her hand slipped under her coat, groping for her lightsaber.
"What did you do?"
There would be time to deal with those boys later. Now her attention had to be here. And even as she opened herself to the Force and felt its refreshing power flow over her like a clean river, she felt the whisper of warning. "Down!" She hissed at Connel, throwing herself to the soil. A fraction of a second later a blaster bolt sizzled through the air where her chest had been.
Hicks was shooting to kill. Playing for keeps.
Andromeda rolled over and leapt to her feet, her blade erupting from her lightsaber hilt with a tell-tale
snap-hiss! and bathed her features and Connel's armor in a blue-green glow. The blasters didn't stop. Some went wide, others she batted away with her lightsaber, still others Connel would interact with. Not for the first time, she was grateful for Master Thule and his insistence on challenging her with the drones during their training together. He had been quite a taskmaster in her eyes then, but she could only imagine how she'd fare without those instincts today.
Her blade caught a bolt, sent it back the way it came. The attacker has moved, and instead the bolt hit a patch of dry grass, instantly catching. The fire spread around the dry grass in the area, and soon a little more than a third of the site was surrounded by low flames.
Ambient light to fight by -- that was a nice touch.
Andromeda opened herself to the Force, like she had done so many times with William when they had encountered enemies. She poured her senses into it, reached for Connel's in return, never stopping to think whether this was what all Jedi did during combat and crisis. She moved independent of him but aware of him, trusting him to handle that which was there while she was handling what was in front of her.
The bolt that caught her shoulder was glancing, thank the Light. It merely burned through her jacket and tunic, melting fibers of the fabric into her flesh and making her cry out. She turned to the attacker, seized him in the Force and slammed him to the side of the structure beside which they had left the drum. She felt pain, but not rage.
Feel, she heard William's voice in her mind.
Don't think. Pay attention.
