Private Live Free Or Die

[Ishani Dinn]

Pirivena, Chaldea

Night had fallen over the abandoned city, the only sound being that of waves crashing against stone and metal. With many of its structures now underwater due to the rising tides, it looked like the coastal metropolis was being swallowed up by the sea.

The sole residents of Pirivena were supposed to be the Finfolk, a tribe of weirdos LARPing as mermaids. They had made their homes where the ocean met the city, living in the submerged houses and offices in the lower levels. In the dry parts, however, a criminal enterprise had apparently sprung up… one that the local authorities were ill-equipped to deal with. Slavery was outlawed on Chaldea, but the rules regarding sentient trafficking were a little more hazy, mostly because of the planet’s problems with maintaining a stable population. They needed people, and sometimes they didn’t care how they got them.

That was what had brought Ishani here. There had been a kidnapping. Seven kids, aged seven to fourteen, taken during a field trip. The heads back at the Academy hadn’t cared enough to go after them. Resources were stretched thin after the invasion of Ossus, and a handful of snotty punks who were weak and stupid enough to be captured by common slavers weren’t worth the time and effort to reclaim. Truth be told, Ishani herself probably wouldn’t have gotten involved, had she not learned the name of the planet the kids had been tracked to. Chaldea. Her homeworld. Feth.

That said, she wasn’t strong (or dumb) enough to go alone. She tried to get a few of her fellow acolytes involved, but nobody wanted anything to do with this mission. Arcturus Dinn was still missing, otherwise he would’ve been Ishani’s first choice. Alina Tremiru scared Ishani, what with her being a vampire and all, and she really didn't want to be in a combat situation involving blood with Alina around. Melydia Gold would be too out of her element in this place. So that left only one option, really. The bounty board.

Some guy named Dagon had signed on at the first mention of saving kids captured by slavers, even agreeing to low pay (she was giving up all her savings for this, which wasn’t much to begin with). She didn’t tell him where they had come from or where they were bound to after they were rescued. After all, he didn’t necessarily need to know, right? He was just the hired muscle, the shoot-em-up guy. Or the stab-em-all guy. Bludgeon-them-to-death guy? Whatever weaponry he preferred.

So it was that Ishani and this Dagon guy came to be standing on a hill overlooking Pirivena. She was peering through a pair of binoculars at an old run-down warehouse on the edge of the city, surrounded by a fence and patrolled by a few scattered guards. There were no windows, but she sensed various presences moving around within. Nobody who stood out, save a few bright points. Force sensitives. They were all clustered together in one corner, presumably corralled in a cage or cell of some kind.

“I think the fence might be electrified…” She trailed off, lowering her binoculars and looking around for Dagon. It was very dark, and he was wearing a dark outfit. Granted, so was she, but her blonde hair was a visible bright spot. “Uh, I could probably zap it before it zaps us… but I’d have to get close, and then the guards will be a problem.” Far from being a great tactician, her entire plan basically consisted of find a way in and crack a few skulls to get there. The details of how they would pull it off were up in the air.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

On Jakku, of all places, word reached him of a series of child kidnappings on neighboring Chaldea by a band of slavers. A world just beyond the Alliance's northern frontier. A world he had never really heard much about, but clearly plenty to see of. Even Jakku looked less dystopian than the city of Pirivena lying before his eyes. Half of it swallowed under the relentless tides of an ever-expanding maw of the ocean. Its skyscrapers reminded him of Coruscant had they been devoured by abandon. Dozens upon dozens of the high flats' upper levels had been left unfinished, bare skeletal frames of steel deserted due to a myriad of reasons that all tied into the exodus of the city's population. Invasive overgrowth, mainly due to the unnaturally infestive climate the ocean brought, wrapped around the city suffocating the life out of it. It was only a matter of time before Pirivena became merely a dreary afterimage in the fledgling memories of the elderly.

But the distant future was not Dagon's concern today. Only the next couple of hours. The Jedi had been paired with one called Ishani, the blonde girl who had issued the bounty, and despite his unvoiced reluctance - given his previous experience with a mercenary on Necropolis - Dagon couldn't just bail on enslaved children. Ishani had done her homework before his arrival, she had allegedly found the place where the children were held. He wasn't completely convinced by her investigation; after all, he had been doing this for...close to a decade now. Usually, no one was thrust into a detective's career at the age of twelve or so. Jedi were the exception, evidently. He never mentioned that. For a reason.

Despite the New Jedi's boldness to take a stand against the Sith and all evils plaguing the galaxy, the distrust was growing. Especially on worlds outside the scope of the Alliance He'd taken the job under the guise of a merc, even if he looked like the most obvious vigilante on this side of the galaxy. The iconic military aviator jacket with the New Jedi's symbol was stripped in favor of a black one with a hood, bearing no affiliations except the brand embroidered somewhere in its inner lining where his lightsaber was concealed. Beneath the jacket, he wore a carbon-colored sweatshirt, midnight blue cargo trousers, and grey spacer boots completed his outfit. It wasn't the first time he'd hidden his identity as a Jedi; many times, during his investigations in the underbelly of Coruscant, it was necessary.

The view of the warehouse on the edge of the city did seem suspicious for all the wrong reasons. Sentries with faces stereotypical to slavers, electric fences and, more or less, the middle of nowhere. "That's an option but I don't know how monitored that fence is; any disturbance of it might alert them" he explained, then, "We could rappel down from that high flat right on top of the warehouse and find a way inside. I can take down the sentry on the roof." the Jedi produced a hand-held gadget from the confines of his pocket, then put it back in. "Issue is - usually such goodfellas run pickets in the surrounding area. A vantage point like that one's bound to have a few goons brooding around and scanning the area." a lot of that knowledge he had consumed through his experience as both an investigator and--"if we need to disable them - that's also going to be a problem if they are running periodic checks over radios."-- his experience as a Jedi on the front.

Dag turned his head to face her with his signature lopsided smirk, half-jokingly, half-serious, "I like blondes but that hair of yours' gonna stand out like the sun in the shadows. Got nothing to cover it?" he doubted it would be much of an issue, but caution came first.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Ishani’s eyes finally landed on Dagon—or rather, on his broad chest. The top of her head barely came up to the height of his shoulders, and she had to crane her neck to look up at his face. Too intimidated to maintain eye contact, she instead settled for staring at his mouth while he talked. He had an attractive mouth. He had attractive features in general, though she couldn't make them out much in the darkness. He'd left an impression at their first meeting, however. Starport lighting flattered no one, except Dagon Kaze.

“The fence is probably just to keep wild animals out,” she said. Dagon probably remembered her excitedly pointing out a Chaldean deer she had spotted grazing in the bushes along the way to Pirivena, as well as her subsequent embarrassment over her childish reaction to a relatively ordinary phenomenon. To be fair, she hadn’t visited her homeworld in a while, and the deer were really pretty. Provided you didn't hit them with your speeder. “So maybe it would tip them off, but I doubt it would cause panic. Er... the whole thing being disabled, yeah, that would be suspicious.” Now she felt sort of dumb for suggesting it in the first place.

His rooftop plan sounded way cooler and less likely to get them killed, and she hadn’t even thought about pickets. “Can we jam their radios? Well, that would definitely tell them something was up. Uhhhh…”

She was still staring at his lips when they curled into a smirk just before he made a comment about her hair. It was hard to see in the twilight, but her face turned beet red and she touched the top of her head self-consciously. “My hair is… ” She floundered, obviously flustered. “The hair stays out. I mean, uncovered. It’ll be fine.”

To outward appearances, it looked as if the loose strands of her ponytail had been plaited into six separate braids and some kind of metallic decoration had been attached to the ends. The “decorations” were actually modified lightwhips. In addition to carrying an energy bow, she had weaponized her hair, of all things. Maybe by the end of this mission, Dagon would rethink his admiration for fair-haired dames after seeing her go all medusa on the slavers. That, or he was going to really, really like blondes from here on out.

“I guess we’re going on the roof, then,” she said. “Your plan is better than mine. You do your thing, I’ll follow along.” Silly as it sounded now, she had envisioned Dagon effectively taking over the warehouse, cleansing it of scum and villainy and putting an end to all slaver operations in the immediate area in a single swoop. But that was ridiculous. Even if he looked and talked like he knew exactly what he was doing, he was still just some guy. Right? Well, she'd see him in action soon enough.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

It was dark, a near-abandoned metropolis hardly provided any illumination from the distance. Yet, not dark enough. Dagon caught the red wave crossing her features and inaudibly laughed. He'd come to get used to it. It was either a lustful gaze or a blush, or a sarcastic facade, or all three together. The original Jedi Code was rigid, the New Jedi's? Not so much, especially most of the New Jedi were in the peak of their unhinged youth. And especially when he was still coping with the events of Ossus. The brief respite in the form of the flustered, attractive goldilocks was welcome but the weight of the mission made its way back to the forefront of his mind. Maybe later?

"Alright, let's get to it, then."

The front door of the semi-abandoned high flat was all one needed to see to know what the state of Pirvena was; flat on the ground, off its hinges, with about a dozen cracks and graffiti, and, of course, the overgrowth. The smell of carcinogenic food drowning the sulphuric scent of saltwater indicated the building was still inhabited; its denizens most likely were Pirvena personified. Neglected. He'd seen their likes before - those same downtrodden in the bowels of Coruscant averting eyes, carrying on about their business, as children were snatched from the streets at pure daylight, as women disappeared with a final shriek for help, as men were murdered in cold blood. Once, in his earlier teenage years, anger and judgment had stirred inside his guts but a decade later? Pity...and helplessness. Helplessness that no matter how many goons he locked behind bars, the streets still remained the same; the oppressed and oppressors only grew a dozen more.

And yet, here he was - rescuing kidnapped kids on a planet echoing their suffering.

An echo that he was powerless to deafen.

The duo's cautious climb of the common staircase, or half-staircase as there was at least one missing step every four or five steps, was a vivid experience. Vivid, but repulsive. The building was far more lively than it first suggested in the worst shape of liveliness possible. One floor burned cracked spice to the point Dagon's nostrils burned from the inside out, another was a brothel of sadistic nature - the screeching numbing his ears - and another flood was a den of murder and drug abuse. They only saw the silhouettes, the shadows in each floor; spared from the building's full 'glow'. The joyous exhilaration over the Chaldean deer became merely a blurred afterimage, a distant memory - faint as a dream - of a childhood long gone past; replaced by the stark and grim reality of Pirivena today. And if Ishani showed the urge to do something about the grotesque distortion of her yearned past, Dagon would pull her back decisively with a non-negotiable frown on his face.

Around the twelfth floor was when they first had to freeze in place. It was one of those basement floors typical for high-rise buildings; a dim light illuminated the long and wide corridor of the floor where two lone men with guns patrolled, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in their wake. According to Dagon's initial assessment of the building's design and architecture, the two thugs' destination was the wide, massive terraces at the side of the building. The same terraces that overlooked the warehouse facility below and which the Jedi had indicated to his partner prior. These balconies usually were smaller but most had been widened to create space for various different reasons by hammering down the separating walls of the adjacent rooms or apartments. This one, Dagon assumed, was enlarged to extend the goons' scope of overwatch. The more they could exploit the vantage point, the safer they were.

Not for much longer.

The raven-haired Jedi beckoned hastily for Ishani to follow him into the corridor, tailing the two unsuspecting sentries.

"Got to take them out before they reach the terrace, there should be more on the overwatch. Then drag them into one of those basement chambers." he whispered quickly explaining to the blonde. His concern over her ability to incapacitate a guard, and at that silently enough not to alert the others, made way for the trained composure and steeled nerves to do his job. "I'll take the one on the left." In another time, he would've observed their movements and their behavior for far longer, and devised a methodical plan to take them out. Prep time. But something about Ishani's disposition to the whole ordeal forced him into action. Related to the kidnapped children? That was a suspicion he carried ever since he met her.

Dagon upped his pace a bit as he snuck behind one of the guards, hoping for a timely ambush by Ishani, too. The Force capsulated his fist and came down extremely, hard on the man's head knocking him out of commission. His body sliding into the Jedi's arms.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Ishani followed Dagon as they entered the building, ascending a crumbling staircase. It was a bit like taking a trip through hell, except in reverse—instead of going down into the depths, they went up.

Nature was struggling to take back Pirivena, and the only thing standing in its way were the stragglers who refused to leave, or had no choice but to stay. Ishani wasn’t sure what she had expected. An empty structure stoically decaying, perhaps? Not this. Shadows slid across the walls and over their bodies like shades of the dead, accompanied by noises that made Ishani’s skin crawl. She cringed. Dagon wouldn’t need to pull her back; she didn’t dare venture near the horrors they passed through.

She did, however, feel the need to offer a futile explanation to her companion. “There was a war,” she whispered, her tone almost apologetic. “A big planetary conflict. It happened right before I was born. A lot of people died, and things have only been getting worse ever since. Especially here. This place was hit particularly hard.” Guerilla warfare left fewer scars on structures, but in some ways, exacted a heavier toll.

When they reached the twelfth floor, they encountered two sentries. Ishani knew what was coming next before Dagon whispered to her. He was right to worry. Under normal circumstances, a person like Ishani would be no match for the sentry, either in size or physical strength. But she didn’t operate under normal circumstances, she operated with the help of the Force… provided her connection to the cosmic web didn’t suddenly crap out on her like a lousy Holonet service provider.

She crouched down, found a line of shadow from a duracrete pillar which would hide her, and focused on the sentry on the right. The Force swirled around the man. The cigarra fell from his slackened jaw, and his grasp on his weapon loosened—

Ishani’s eyes widened. She reached out with her other hand to telekinetically catch the gun before it could clatter to the floor. Grabbing it meant that her hold on the sentry’s senses was lost; the man shook his head, coming to, body tensing as if to pounce or roar. She tightened her grip on the gun and hit him in the face with it as hard as she could. There was a sickening crunch of bone. The man crumpled, his body hitting the floor with a loud thud.

She grit her teeth, waiting for a reaction from those in the levels below, but nothing happened. They were making too much noise themselves, evidently. She rose, setting the gun aside much more quietly, and looked to Dagon, a little bit sheepish even though she had (technically) done well. It didn’t even occur to her to think he might be alarmed by what she’d done, or rather how she’d done it. You’d think a common mercenary would see the Force as just another useful gadget or tool of the trade, or at worst, he’d be wary (but too late to turn back) of entangling himself with a possible Jedi or Sith. After all, they tended to bring nothing but trouble.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"The Force?" the surprise escaped his lips inadvertently before he sealed them into a thin line as they dragged the two bodies into an adjacent empty room. A million questions burned on Dagon's tongue but he swallowed them in the pit of composure and strategic clarity. Outing himself now by allowing his tempting curiosity to lure him in would compromise the entire mission's integrity. The kids came first.

"Nice." he added, acting dumbfounded. Not a space oscar worthy performance.

The Jedi rubbed his gloved hands, then, "Let's get a move on. Don't know how long before someone finds them."

He took the lead, sneaking into the wide-open terrace where, as he had expected, one sentry stood overwatch. Without the patrol to worry about, Dagon made quick work of the sole guard, dragged him back to that same empty room with the others, and came back to Ishani.

"These children - you know them?" Dagon inquired as he measured the distance with the gadget in his hand before firing the grappling hook at the roof of the warehouse. His head turned to Ishani, "Chaldean like you?"

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Still dragging the sentry’s body into the other room, Ishani gave the astonished Dagon a dimpled little grin. But there was a slightly brittle edge to her smile as well. “I don’t go advertising it to people around here. Chaldeans don’t much like ‘Forcies’. Practicing ones, anyway...”

In fact, they had fought that war to banish them from the planet altogether. But that was a long story, they were in the middle of a rescue mission, and Ishani would rather not talk about it anyway.

She was just letting go of the limp body when Dagon darted out onto the terrace. She heard a faint, muffled thump, then he returned less than a minute later, dragging yet another sentry into the room. “You’re too quick for me,” she remarked, following him out into the moonless night again.

At his questions, Ishani pursed her lips. She was bad at lying, and she knew it, but if she refused to answer… well, so what if it came across as suspicious? She was paying him, not the other way around. It really wasn’t any of his business.

“No,” was all she said at first, a flat answer to both questions. She had intended for it to sound cool and careless, but it just came out sounding stupid. Had her friend Thesh been there, he would've raised his ginger eyebrows and prompted, "'No' what, Ish?" She sighed.

“I don’t know them. We’re not related or anything. They’re just kids, and I’m an elderly nineteen year old. But I’m the only person trying to help them because… they don't have any family, and the people who are supposed to be looking out for them don’t seem to care.”

Dagon fired his grappling hook. It occurred to Ishani that they would be swinging across quite a steep gap—and on a moonless night like this, it was almost pitch black. Ishani wasn’t afraid of heights, she just disliked them intensely and avoided them whenever possible. “So, uh… how exactly is this going to work?” she asked softly. “Do I get my own grappling hook, or… ?”

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

“I don’t go advertising it to people around here. Chaldeans don’t much like ‘Forcies’. Practicing ones, anyway...”

Dagon barely held the disappointed sigh from escaping. It wasn't only on Chaldea. The anti-force user sentiment was growing more and more with each conflict, each new front line, each new redraw of borders. Hiding his own identity was a good choice, but he wondered how long that would last. A glance at the warehouse below and the Force hinted it might be not that long from now.

While the Jedi looked busy with setting up the rope, he was very carefully listening to her words, or specifically the way she uttered them. His investigative flair had bestowed him with a sharp sense for lying. Not surprising. Considering every crook lied through their teeth. He doubted Ishani was some sort of a criminal, but she sure was withholding information; and that might cause problems when they get down there. It was a possibility Dagon had to carefully assess and take in mind.

“So, uh… how exactly is this going to work?” she asked softly. “Do I get my own grappling hook, or… ?”

The question caught him off-guard and his face turned stupid. He carried only one. Like any other normal person who had a grappling hook on them. Who the kriff would have two? Even Dagon wasn't that systematic. He pulled the rope down and let it bounce back up, testing its tightness. Tight enough for two at the same time. Or so he hoped. The pitch black night barely revealed the full-extent of the rope down to the roof, let alone anything else. Maybe if Alliance investory wasn't so cheap at times, he would've had one of those more expensive grappling hooks where the holding mechanism could go back to its initial start after ferrying one person. Instead, he was equipped with those fire-and-forget cheap knock-offs. What a life.

"Not exactly."

The padawan stepped up on the terrace's railing carefully, it was wide enough for him to stand steady but thin enough for a drunken person to certainly fall to his death. He offered Ishani a hand to climb up next to him, while the other was already holding on the handle on the rope. "Wrap your arms around my neck. Not around my chest or you'll slide off." Dagon explained. He was certain he could ferry her over to the other side with only one hand on the grip. Even if she was mildly voluptuous.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

The look on Dagon’s face would’ve coaxed a laugh from Ishani, if it didn’t foretell misfortune for her.

“Not exactly.”

They were pulling a “Luke and Leia swing across the Death Star chasm”, weren’t they? She sighed. “Well, at least nobody is shooting at us, and I don’t weigh very much.”

A little awkwardly, she took his hand, stepped up onto the ledge… avoided looking down, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Or tried to. She had to stand on tiptoe to get a proper grip, and he likely had to stoop a little to wrap his arm around her waist. Wait, did that mean he was going to swing across one-handed—?

The moment she felt her feet leave the ledge, she felt like her guts had been left behind on the terrace. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her dangling legs around Dagon, her body completely clinging to him for extra security. Her grip was probably uncomfortably tight, but she did not want to risk slipping. Really, she wasn't afraid of heights at all!

Of course, this position—and the fact that she was squeezing her eyes shut—meant that she didn’t notice when they made it across. Not until she felt the muscles of Dagon’s body shift beneath her once he was standing on solid ground again. She opened one eye and looked around.

“Oh. Uh, sorry.”

She slid out of his grasp, reached for the nearest wall, and clung to it for a few seconds, glad it was over with.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Rappelling down from the twelfth floor in the dark of night wasn't anything new for the Jedi. Sure, it always brought a certain dose of thrill up from his guts but never really dread. Not after he'd done it a thousand times prior. Height scaling was just different on Coruscant. What caught him by surprise was Ishani's grip. She held tight tight. For a girl with her frame, she did sure did cling for her life.

Dagon first looked around, noticing the sentry that used to be on the roof was gone. Maybe they weren't as disciplined as he initially assumed. He threw a few more focused glances scanning the area and when the coast was clear did finally approach the blonde taking a brief rest on the nearby railing.

"First time, huh?" a smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "That...Force thing - can you sense the kids...or something?" he asked, struggling to feign ignorance.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Dagon looked rather smug. She squinted up at him. “I don’t typically spend my evenings swinging across chasms, no. Do you?”

Then he asked about the kids. Oh. They were supposed to save kids from the warehouse. That’s right. That’s why they were doing this.

“Yeah, uh…” Her gaze went distant as she focused, stretching out her perception of the world around her. “Bunch of them all clustered together in… that corner over there.” She pointed past Dagon. “Probably in a cage or something. Such hospitality.”

She looked around as well. “Didn’t there used to be a sentry on this roof?”

A second later, a reply came from below. The sentries patrolling at the ground level were shooting up at them. Ishani dropped onto her stomach automatically, then heard a metallic clattering somewhere behind her. Someone—probably the departed rooftop sentry—had just tossed something up through the hatch. A popping sound and a rush of air preceded the release of a cloud of white gas.

“That’s ungood!” Ishani yelped. Grammar failing her, she invented a new word in the heat of the moment. She sucked in a quick breath then held it indefinitely, but she wasn’t sure how Dagon was going to deal with this bullchit. She had already pulled out her energy bow and was taking shots at the sentries down below, hoping to at least take care of that problem.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

“I don’t typically spend my evenings swinging across chasms, no. Do you?”

"All the time." he replied, unsure whether it was supposed to be something special or not. Then, the touch of the Force washed over him lightly as he sensed Ishani's presence expand. She had found them not long after, but before they could do anything about that a patrol from below opened fire.

Sloppy. Stupid. He berated himself mentally as he dropped flat on the ground beside the blonde. A clang of metal from behind, followed by a tumbling series of clinks made Dagon snap his head back at the source - a familiar orb that hissed to life. White clouds of smoke erupted over the roof. With the first, accidental breathe, the Jedi discerned the grenade - debilitating gas; a must in a slaver's inventory.

Out of many options to deal with his predicament, his instinctive breathe was shut off along with any air trying to flow down his lungs. He had no rebreather, only the Force. A good learning experience for the future, if he was going to maintain a different identity than that of a Jedi. Having no other equipment - live and learn, live and learn - other than his fists, wits and the Force, Dagon's faux identity had to go.

He called on the empyrean and it answered. A wave of energy dispersed the cloud, allowing them both to breathe again, then Dagon pulled at the archer's shoulder. "Go, through that hatch!" he pointed back from where the grenade had come from, "I will cover and take the front entrance. Hit them from behind, I will take point."

Nothing much to cover from considering she had already halved the sentries numbers with her arrows. What remained of the few behind solid cover, Dagon sent a powerful push sending the remnant into the electrified fence behind them. Fried, but alive. Without looking behind for Ishani, the Jedi dropped below from the roof right at the entrance of the warehouse. He didn't bother looking for a way to open it, instead relied on the Force to pull apart the two doors. They groaned, screeched under the strain but gave in and all hells broke loose from inside. Showered by blaster fire, Dagon formed an ethereal barrier to protect him as he rushed inside with force-enhanced speed.

Wreck havoc with force-boosted punches and kicks, divert any attention from Ishani's more covert approach.

Maybe her initial vision of how things would go down was coming to fruition.

Just not in one single swoop.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Over the next few precious seconds, Ishani learned something about this guy Dagon whom she had hired off the Holonet. He was, in fact, a Force User himself—he did the same breath-saving trick she did, then used telekinesis to part the fog of gas so that she could get to the roof hatch.

Swept up by adrenaline, Ishani obeyed his order and descended. She slid down a rusting ladder, landing in the midst of a group of men, their weapons trained on her. So much for the covert approach. She used Tutaminis to absorb the blaster fire that pelted her position, then pushing the energy outward. A few stragglers who weren’t burned by the heat retreated into cover.

Ishani dove behind cover and turned her attention outward. She could feel ripples in the Force beyond the warehouse’s walls, no doubt Dagon’s handiwork—sure enough, the doors were blasted inward and a blur that she sensed was him came barreling through, his speed cosmically enhanced to supernatural levels.

Why hadn’t he said something? Why pretend not to have the Force? He must’ve had a reason to keep it a secret unless it was absolutely necessary to reveal his power… Either way, she clearly had a few things left to learn about her companion.

He was distracting the others, she realized. Giving her a chance to get what they came here for. She made her way toward the corner where she believed the children were being held, darting between shadows cast by supply crates and other objects. It worked; she was not harried along the way, as the slavers were concentrated on Dagon. A yellowish glow signified an energy barrier, and behind it… only five kids out of the seven that had gone missing. Blinking, she did another head count with the aid of the Force, just to be sure—

Someone came up behind her, taking a swing at her head. Open to the Force, she sensed it coming and was able to get out of the way. A female slaver wielding a vibroblade came at her, swinging hard. Ishani’s lightwhips slithered to life like snakes, undulating around her, lashing at the woman’s wrists, neck, and eyes, hoping at least one blow would land. The slaver’s blade was knocked from her grasp; she gasped out a choking breath as a smoking gash sliced across her bare throat, and was already dying when she was blinded by the final swipe across her vision.

Ishani pushed past the fallen woman to the cage. Code locked. She pulled out her datapad and plugged it into the machine, setting it to work through thousands of combinations in a matter of seconds until it found the right one. The energy barrier flickered out. She was instantly hit by the odor of unwashed bodies, sweat, and human waste. Clearly the slavers hadn’t even let them out of the cage to relieve themselves, let alone bathe.

“There are supposed to be two more of you,” she said, straining to be heard over the sounds of blaster fire. “Where are they?”

The kids stared at her warily, uncertain of what was happening or what would become of them now. Finally, one of the older ones answered, “They were too old, so they got shot.”

Ishani grimaced, anger rearing its head. She turned toward the sound of Dagon’s firefight, wanting very badly to slaughter every last one of the people who had done this. To wipe the whole planet clean, purge the land with blood. She was stopped only by the fact that she knew she wasn’t powerful enough. Not yet.

Although she could at least assist Dagon in emptying this warehouse. “Take cover,” she told the kids. “Stay out of sight.”

Reaching out, she found the remaining slavers and closed her fist, trying to crush their bodies with telekinetic force, as if ten times the planet’s normal gravity had come down upon them in an instant.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

When she found him, or more like when they converged finally together, Dagon was clearly bruised. A direct frontal assault with no lightsaber would do that to you; he had to get used to it if he was going to go down that fake identity route more often. The jacket bore holes made of plasma, some still billowing smoke and a faint smell of burned flesh. Minimal scratch wounds on his face, some closed wounds had opened up beneath the bandages hidden behind his shirt, and a lot more blunt injuries all over his body.

The Jedi wasn't battered, the damage was light, but not mild as he'd expected initially. There had been far more thugs and add on top the fact he didn't really go down his usual route of long assessments of the situation prior - there's your outcome. Yet, all a far cry from what he sustained during each skirmish on the frontlines against the Sith.

While he left a string of bodies knocked out for good, Ishani's trail was one of corpses. Seeing all threats to have been eliminated, one way or the other, he approached her with an irritated expression on his face, "Had to kill them?" his eyes glanced over her at the gruesome, bloodied path she'd left behind and shook his head in frustration. "Had to?"

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Abruptly the sound of blaster fire ceased. The air smoldered and the walls were blackened with carbon scoring, but it was silent. Ishani unclenched her fists, then gestured for the children to follow. “We’re getting you out of here.”

She encountered Dagon next, standing amid crushed corpses. Her first reaction was one of concern—he’d been shot and beat up. She could smell burning flesh on him. But before she could offer first aid, he opened his mouth. Her eyebrows rose, stunned that he would even care whether these scum lived or died, then her eyes narrowed.

“They’re trash,” she replied. “A bunch of slavers who target children because they’re easier to beat into submission.” She gestured to the kids. “There’s supposed to be seven of them. They said two of them were ‘too old’ to be sold off, so these fethers killed them. The galaxy's better off without them.”

Something was gnawing at her. It wasn’t danger sense, more like a feeling of I’m missing something here. It didn’t add up. Why was Dagon, a Force User she had hired as a mercenary, overly concerned about not killing slavers? Was he afraid of collateral damage? The only people who mattered in this place were the kids, who had been hidden behind an energy barrier.

She shook her head, letting it slide for now. There were more important things to worry about. “I hope you can still walk out of here, but don’t try to say you’re perfectly fine. I can smell the burns on you.” She could also see what looked like old bandages poking through his ripped clothing. Had he gone on this mission without fully healing from previous wounds? The hell? “I can help you once we’re safe. I checked the kids already, they’re not injured. Just need food and showers and sleep.” And therapy. Lots of therapy.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

We're not like them.

Dagon opened his mouth to argue but sealed it at the sight of the disparaged state of the kids. The temptation to explain semi-dogmatic canons in an understandable way drowned beneath his own rising indignation. Wasn't the first time he'd witnessed such a scenario, no, yet it always brought up the same feelings.

"I am fine." he said, despite her. Don't think about me. The Jedi took off his jacket and put it over the shoulders of one of the kids that wore nothing more than torn rags. The night was growing colder as the ocean's humid breeze picked up. A familiar, stinging warmth made him glance down at his torso; an older wound had opened up from beneath the bandages under his sweatshirt. He ignored it, that came later.

He brushed away the sweat from his forehead, then jerked his head towards the warehouse's exit. "We'll take that speeder over there. You got a safe place for the kids and you?" and he was already walking towards it.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

She eyed the blood leaking from his wounds, frowning, but didn’t say anything else. The fact that he was ignoring his own injuries annoyed her, but she also felt a sense of satisfaction at seeing him put the kids before himself. He might be some kind of weirdo who blanched at the thought of killing slavers, but at least he had some of his priorities straight.

“I figured we’d take them back to my ship,” she replied, herding the kids into the speeder.

“Who are you people?” the eldest of the children, a girl about nine years old, by Ishani’s estimate, asked.

“Uh, my name is Ishani, and this is Dagon. We came here to rescue you.”

“Are you taking us back to Korriban?” another child, a younger boy, piped up.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going back to Korriban.” She glanced at Dagon. “You’re not driving, you’ll get blood all over the seat and the steering wheel.”

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Dagon stopped right in his tracks.

"Korriban?"

A cold shiver ran down his spine as pieces and bits began to form a discernible image.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Dagon was clearly having some kind of moment. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Ishani nonetheless shoved past him, claiming the driver’s seat. He echoed the word, Korriban, as if it were a curse.

“Yeah, Korriban.” For a few moments she said nothing, busy hot-wiring the vehicle in the absence of keys. The engine flared to life. “Are you going to get in or stand there and bleed all over the pavement?”

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

He stood stupefied for a few long moments before he hopped in the passenger's seat. The vehicle was already moving when, "The kids aren't going back to Korriban, Ishani." his statement was implicit of who exactly he was.

"You shouldn't either."

Ishani Dinn