I came out of my meditation to the sound of an alarm blaring and looked up at the main display even as I reached out with the Force.
The screen showed, and the Force confirmed, that all five attacking ships were now close to our cathedral-ship; and I needed to come up with a better name for this place.
There was no way I was using the official name – Anvil of Ryloth – when most of the freed slaves were non-Human, and thus their ancestors would have been targets for the Pius Dea crusades.
That fact was something I only knew thanks to Dooku giving me a brief overview of the Pius Dea era of the old Republic. Suffice to say, it was not a good time to be non-Human.
The two raiders were circling us, taking pot-shots at the hull, while the three larger vessels were spread out. The freighter was heading for the main landing bay, where it could land but the two larger transports couldn’t. Those two ships were angling towards the sealed bays, and if I had to guess, were planning to breach there.
My attention was drawn away from the main display as a quest alert appeared.
Quest Alert!
Land of the Lokella [֍]
Help the Lokella drive off the reprisal attack ordered by the Hutt behind the operation.
Rating: A
Objectives:
Ensure as many of the Lokella survive as you can [?/213]
Kill/capture as many of the attackers as you can [?/536]
Rewards:
30XP/Lokella member still living.
A minor reputation boost with each surviving Lokella member.
10XP/attacker captured.
5XP/attacker killed.
Failure:
Re-enslavement of any captured member of the Lokella
Massive loss of reputation with any surviving Lokella
Likely enslavement for yourself
Possible death
…
Accept?
Yes/No
(30)
…
The number was slowly counting down as I remembered that the quest was an Incident Quest – the symbol beside the name giving it away.
That was one of a handful of new quest types that had been added with the update, with all quests now carrying symbols to better identify what type of quest they were. The only ones that didn’t were quests offered up by the interface, which I had to assume were suggestions given by TPTB; though given the fact Revan had generated a quest, there was a chance some or all of those quests were offered by the Force itself.
Those quests, or at least the Changing Fate ones, were ones that I generally regretted taking as they were very open-ended and flawed. I’d been a bit too eager to take any quest offered in my first year in this life. Hopefully, I wouldn’t come to regret that mistake.
Incident Quests were quests that were generated when I was in a situation – be it a battle, competition, or the like – where I had no time to prepare and a desired goal to achieve.
The timer was simply there as if I didn’t respond to the quest quickly enough, it would auto-accept, and I had no way to turn it off. That meant I’d have to always examine any new quest that came in right before a battle, but with Bullet-Time seemingly slowing down time around me – I had checked that using a chronometer – I should have the time in most situations to examine the quest before the timer expired.
Incident Quests also helped counter a concern I’d had since the update had revealed the way party XP worked.
The larger the number of allies I had, the smaller the amount of XP I gained from each opponent that I killed, stunned, or disabled while in the battle. Clearly, that would make the XP gain from most battles pitiful and make my seeking combat in such situations a waste for potential XP gains.
With this quest – and assuming it held for future battles as well – while the XP gain would still be lower than if I handled the battle all by myself, it had at least made the battle worthwhile from an XP standpoint. And I could only hope that the secondary rewards, in this case, Reputation boosts, would make up for the XP shortfall.
I did wonder, however, why the quest was directing me to capture, and not kill, the attackers even as I tried to ignore the feeling that my life had become more about XP at times than living.
“About farking time!” Pad snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts about the quest, and making me mentally accept it. I twiddled my fingers, getting the feeling back in them after having unknowingly tightly clenched my fists. “They’re about to board but we’re ready to bottle them in from the outer corridors.”
I frowned and moved to a small station that was staffed by a Cathar male who was missing his left ear.
“Pull up the logs of where the raiders have been striking the hull,” I ordered.
The Cathar glanced for a moment at Pad, who had already turned back to the main display, before relenting and doing as I asked.
As the data appeared on screen, I watched as the known points of attack – the sensors on this massive ship were not all working, nor was our raider able to approach close enough to detect where the hits were landing – appeared on an overlay of the hull.
My frown deepened as I placed where the hits we could track were landing with where several Lokella counter-strike teams were gathered.
“It’s a trap!” I shouted out, drawing the attention of many in the command centre. “Get teams three, four, six and seven to pull back to secondary locations.”
“If we do that, we can’t stop them from taking the other landing bays,” Pad challenged as I pushed the Cather out of the way, making him squawk, and sent the data I was seeing to the main display.
“Their shots, while looking random, are weakening the outer hull at locations where those teams are gathered,” I explained even as I used the console to highlight the targeted areas. “Before they land, they’ll further concentrate on those points and expose everyone inside to space.”
Everyone in the command centre took a few moments to review what I’d said before they sprang into action.
“Get those teams out of there!” Pad screamed with wide eyes as his lekku swung around wildly.
Even as he reaffirmed my orders, others were already making the necessary calls.
“Once they’ve moved, lower the secondary bulkheads and open sections twenty-three-a, fourteen-c and all of corridors eleven and nineteen to space,” I added as I examined the map and worked out the logical attack paths for the breach teams.
Pad glared at me with narrow eyes and a few exposed teeth even as others did as I instructed.
“By cutting off those passageways, we can funnel their teams through corridors with little to no cover and dead-locked doors,” I explained loudly so everyone could hear and understand, taking pleasure in showing Pad who was really in charge.
I watched the movement of the teams in the exposed corridors via Detection and the minimap. “There’s no way we can stop them boarding now so we hav…”
I stumbled backwards as I felt as though someone had punched me hard in the stomach and I clenched my eyes shut as I felt… voices, calling out in terror.
I stayed there for a moment as the feeling of nausea washed over me, then groaned quietly and gently shook my head as the feeling passed.
“Hull breach in section four!” someone called out and I glanced at the minimap – instantly regretting the speed I’d done so as the room spun for a second – and saw that half of one of the reaction teams was gone. Even as I watched, another light blinked out.
“Dammit!” I growled as I stood, noticing that the Cathar was offering me support.
I gave him a smile in thanks and waved him off. Even if I likely needed help to stand as my mind was flooded with feelings of pain, suffering and remorse, I couldn’t look weak in case someone – mainly Pad – did something stupid and cost us the battle.
“We’ve lost team three, or most of them,” I stated quietly, but my voice carried across the room with ease and I sensed the growing fear and confusion within everyone on the station.
“Wha… How?” Pad asked, his lekku flicking around as his head spun to face me.
“Because you failed to listen!” Saliva flew out of my mouth as I snarled back at him as the lights dimmed and flickered.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get the rising anger and chaos I felt under control. Some of it was my own, but most of it came from being connected to the emotions of others through the Force at the moment they died. I could remember the lessons I’d had during my short time as an Initiate about the danger of touching someone’s mind when they experienced pain, but I had honestly expected the interface to protect me from that.
Being wrong had not been nice, and once this battle was over, I’d have to check the settings to see if I could prevent a repeat experience.
“We’re kriffed!” Someone whined as I turned my attention to the main display and correlated what it showed with what I was seeing on my minimap.
I had to find a way to save most of these people, quest be dammed. But how?
I could use TK to take every one of the attackers out, but I wanted to try and get a few prisoners. The quest had hinted that a Hutt was behind this operation and I wanted to know which one. And if I again did everything for these people, how would they be able to survive when the time came for me to leave?
While I could probably take out any small group in combat, I couldn’t engage everyone simultaneously and given the confined space of the ship’s corridors, I’d be limited in how I could use my lightsaber.
If only I…
A smile broke across my face as I hopped back up on the table and settled into a meditation position.
“What? Do something!!!” Pad’s eyes threatened to explode out of their sockets as he saw what I was doing.
“I am,” I replied, smirking at him and taking enjoyment at how that only seemed to confuse/enrage him further.
I closed my eyes and reached out to touch every mind on the ship. “Everyone relax. The Force is with us, and we are one with the Force.” I added as I achieved serenity and began to meditate on the battle.
A few gasps could be heard as I touched the minds of everyone in the room and sensed others freezing, stumbling, and slipping as I touched all one hundred and ninety-five minds that remained on the station.
Slowly, carefully, I began to fill their minds with hope. Instilling the belief that they would not only survive but emerge victorious from the battle and giving them the strength of will to do what they must.
In my mind, they appeared as images on a superimposed map of the cathedral-ship that I was able to generate thanks to Eidetic Memory.
I could sense where everyone was and felt that I could guide their actions with gentle pushes and convince them to move as I suggested; even if some were less willing than others to listen.
Once this was done, I reached out further, sensing the minds in the vessels around ours.
As the quest had stated, there were five hundred and thirty-six minds aboard the five vessels. An overwhelming show of force if facing merely freed slaves.
Sadly, for them, that wasn’t what they were facing.
Repeating the process, I attempted to touch each of their minds in turn, though a few were able to actively resist. I suspected I could push past the blocks on their minds given time. However, doing so would likely make it difficult to keep a link with everyone else and there was a chance that they would sense my actions. Thus, I left those minds alone but made a note of their location in case they became a problem as the battle progressed.
Focusing on the overwhelming majority that I had mentally touched; I began to slowly fill their heads with concern and anxiety, hoping to give them a feeling that things were not right.
As the first of the larger ships moved against the hull of our vessel, I gently increased those feelings; making them feel afraid and uneasy.
The moment the first one stepped on this ship, I ramped up those feelings, filling them with dread. I also began whispering to them that they would fail and die here.
Even while doing that, I continued to build up a sense of hope and courage in the Lokella.
The map, in my mind’s eye, allowed me to sense everyone; how they were feeling, where they were and a general sense of what they were thinking.
It was like playing a game where you could control both sides.
Though this was no game.
A point I proved by making one slaver so frightened that he spun and fired on another of his number when they appeared unexpectedly at his side.
As the first group of slavers began to waver and point their blasters at each other, I attempted to prompt the nearest strike teams to move. And move they did.
While outnumbered nearly four-to-one – mainly because team three was decimated and team four had been forced to fall back further than I’d expected due to the hull targeting – the Lokella counter-assault quickly broke the slaver vanguard and drove them back to their breaching point.
From there that battle began to stalemate. The Lokella had the few crates and other objects needed to secure their positions near the doors to the bay, and their shots were unerringly accurate for even someone with my former military training, but they were unable to push across the space to reach the breach point.
There, using their ship as cover, the slavers were safe but bottled down.
*FEAR* *DREAD* *HELPLESS* *FLEE*
The burst of emotions/desires came from a group that had stayed still on the first transport, even as the rest of the crew had rushed into the beech.
I focused more on those feelings, and the people they were coming from and discovered it was the crew of the transport and their reaction to my inducement of fear and dread had them engaging their flight response.
Knowing I couldn’t let them escape, more because of the violent decompressions it would cause where they had breached the hull than if they got away, I reached out with TK and grabbed everyone in what I assumed was the cockpit and tossed them around like rag dolls.
As I released the bodies – their life signs gone from Detection – I sensed that the second transport had begun to breach another sealed bay and the freighter landed, I continued to ramp up the fear felt by the slavers while giving the Lokella unwavering belief that they would win the day.
The shots from the Lokella continued to rain down with precision as the slaver’s actions became increasingly erratic.
The attack force in the main landing bay, in a mirror of the first breeching, was first stopped and then driven back to their ship. However here, they lacked the ease of cover for their landing ramp, and the strike teams there began to slowly approach the freighter; whittling down the slavers whenever one made a mistake and exposed themselves to fire. Generally, when I sent them a burst of fear, it resulted in an instinctual need to move.
This pattern, while also happening at the second breaching point, was not as successful.
As I focused on that skirmish – and ramped up the terror felt by the attackers – I noted that three individuals in with this group were among the half-dozen or so who had managed to resist my initial attempt at touching their minds.
They were able to stay strong, which was countering the terror felt by the companions, and I noted that the two strike teams holding them back were losing members at a far greater rate than the other battles combined.
Since I was so immersed in the Force and using my abilities, I couldn’t risk breaking the link to warn the others in the room with me and could only hope that someone was alerted to this and sent teams seven and eight to support that battle.
Sensing an opportunity and deciding to repeat my trick with the first transport, I grabbed hold of the small number of slavers that had stayed onboard the other transport and the freighter and disabled them violently with the Force.
Unexpectedly, one of the minds of the Lokella became open to me, and I was able to implicitly order them where to move and when.
Whether that was due to them now trusting me, or my ability with Battle Meditation increasing, I did not know. Nor did I have time to contemplate it.
I simply used it to give them commands that they then issued to the others in their team.
The three battles continued even as I sensed more minds joining the ones at the second breaching point. Someone must have ordered the reserve teams there as I’d hoped.
Time seemed to slow as I kept inspiring the Lokella while demoralising the attackers, and after what felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since the initial breach, I sensed a growing number of the attackers were not just wavering but seeking to surrender.
This happened first in the main landing bay around the freighter then around the first breach.
Shifting my attention to the second breach, and the only place where a battle was showing no sign of stopping, I noted that even with the arrival of two other teams the Lokella were unable to push the attackers back to their vessel.
Taking advantage of the links through which I could issue orders, I instructed them to move as many free fighters as possible to that battle, though without risking the attackers who had surrendered thinking they should restart the other two fights.
After doing this, and only after making sure to give the slavers one last, massive bout of terror – via imagines of the Aliens from the movie of the same name – did I slowly pull back from touching the minds of everyone in the battle.
“How… What did you do?” the Cathar asked as I opened my eyes and slid off the table.
His eyes were wide, and his face was lacking some of the colour it had held before I entered Battle Meditation. I noted that the others in the room looked the same, though a few were also struggling to keep their eyes open.
“I used the Force,” I replied as I unclipped my lightsaber from my belt. “Just like this.”
With a thought, I teleported myself to a point just outside the only remaining battle on the station, even as I marvelled that thanks to the Heart of the Force upgrade, I could use passive Battle Meditation with Serenity and not suffer any FP loss, and once the power was maxed, I would be able to do so without even needing Serenity.
Activating Bullet-Time and Precognition, I stepped into the bay; casually ducking a blaster bolt.
A few of the Lokella saw me, and I motioned for them to hold their fire even as I stepped out into the sight of the attackers; trusting in my powers as I kept my lightsaber unlit.
“Slavers!” I called out, suddenly wondering if there was a way to boost my voice to make it easier to hear, “Your fellow attackers are all either now dead or captured. Surrender and I promise the Republic will show you mercy.”
“Why would we believe that from a Jetii?” A voice shouted back with anger. “Especially an adiik.”
This was tactically a stupid decision, but, as a Jedi, it was what was expected of me. And it had the highest chance of ending this skirmish without further loss of life for my allies. Provided the attackers did surrender.
An armoured man stepped out from behind cover, a pair of blaster pistols in his hands.
While I could not see his face, nor anything else about him, the armour he wore left me in no doubt as to who – what – he was.
It, like the symbol born proudly on the centre of his chest, marked him out as a Mandalorian and a member of Death Watch.
“Because, unlike most Jedi, I have already fought in battle. Already taken a life and claimed my honour.” I replied, praying everything I had learnt about their culture and traditions – from KOTOR, the Jedi Archives and the Holonet – was accurate.
The man chuckled, looked around and used one of the blasters to point at me. “Honour? From a Jetii? You who are responsible for the Dral'Han? Nuh’la.”
I sighed and shook my head at what he was referring to. The bombing of Mandalore, and other worlds in the sector, by a Jedi-led Republic strike force nearly eight hundred years ago.
“The Jedi then were weak, scared, of what a strong Mandalore and her people could do. They’d given up their positions in the Republic and lashed out without thinking.” I said slowly, figuring there was no harm in throwing long-dead Jedi under the bus. “I am not them. And here, now, I stand before you and offer you a chance to save the lives of those under your command.”
“Ah, so you are like other Jedi. Issuing orders that others are expected to obey,” the man responded before turning to look at his men. “See this? This is why the Jedi are so rarely seen outside of the Core. They know nothing of how the real galaxy works. All they do is preach and think about what their beloved Force tells them to do while acting as lapdogs of a corrupt senate.”
Some of the slavers chuckled, but most stayed silent, preferring to keep their weapons trained on me. Which was fine, as that meant they weren’t trained on any of the Lokella.
“Yeah, the Senate is corrupt, and many Jedi do have a stick so far up their backends that they could clean their teeth with them,” I said, eliciting a few chuckles from both sides, “but as I said, I am not them.”
“Then prove it,” the man challenged, taking a step forward as he opened his arms wide. “Face me in single combat.”
“Ignoring the fact your attack has already failed, what are your terms?” I asked, hoping that not only were the terms reasonable but that he’d obey them when he was defeated.
Though I had my doubts he would, as displayed proudly on one of his shoulders was the mark of Death Watch.
“The winner is declared when the other is unable to defend themselves,” he stated confidently, “and when I win, we take back control of this station and the former slaves are re-enslav…”
“Unacceptable,” my eyes narrowed as I cut in, “I’ll put the station on the line, but these people will not be going back into slavery.”
The man stared at me, though I met him with a glare of my own. Which was weird, as I could only glare at the mask, not the man.
“Very well.” He finally replied. That seemed to indicate that he was more interested in getting the operation back under the control of whomever he was working for than the slaves. They probably figured that they could move new slaves into the system later. “And if you win, my men will leave and never return.”
“While I hope you would keep that arrangement, I doubt your employer would agree to it. The mine on the planet is far too valuable for them to just let go of.”
“Then what do you propose?”
I considered the logistics of having to hold three to four hundred prisoners before smirking as an idea came to me. “When I win, not only will your men leave, but your navigational charts of this system will be erased, and you and the other leaders of your force must surrender, face Republic justice, and detail whom you are working for.”
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Holding every prisoner just was not visible; either with the bodies the Lokella had, or the food situation. Taking just the leaders made more sense and sending the grunts back to face their employer would save me from having to monitor too many prisoners from reprisal attacks from the Lokella and give their employer a vent for their anger at the failure of the attack.
He laughed loudly, his pistols shaking gently in his hands, “You might be an adiik, but you’ve got a set. Very well, I accept the terms,” he paused and handed his blasters to a Rodian to his left. “We fight with bladed weapons only. No lightsaber for you, and none of your magic tricks either.”
“Impossible,” I stated flatly. “Those “magic tricks” as you mockingly refer to them, are a part of me and my life. They make me the fighter I am. I could no more part with them than you could part with your decades of training and experience. I'll agree to the absence of energy weapons, however. And out of respect to your culture, I'll also refrain from any directed attacks.”
“Directed attacks?” The figure began. “What're you-” And then he stopped.
His whole body froze up. He made a grunting sound, straining, but the bindings I had laid on him were too strong.
“This,” I said, as I calmly regarded him. “Is what I would consider an unfair advantage. I could easily render you immobile, slow your body movements, or simply hurl you out of the hangar into space, as I did to countless other slavers.”
“However,” The bindings suddenly dropped, and the man collapsed to the floor, while I continued speaking without pause. “I understand and value honour. I will not take such cheap shots at someone who cannot retaliate. But just as have some advantages, so do you. You are older, physically stronger, and likely much faster. By enhancing my reflexes through the force, it will allow us to fight on a more even playing field, so I view it as fair play.”
I was lying on that last bit. Though that might be true for a normal padawan of my age, I had far surpassed many knights in terms of force-based physical and reflex enhancement. But he needn't know that.
The figure considered me for a long time, as the other armoured figures behind them murmured to each other. I could tell he was hesitating; my display of power having unnerved him. I decided to stoke his Mandalorian thirst for combat a bit. “Without the Force, I'd merely be any other child, no one of note to you or your clan. However, are you willing to pass up the opportunity to test yourself against a Jedi?”
The helmet tilted, and finally, a chuckle was released. “Kid, the thing is, I know you're playing me, I really do. However, I accept those terms.”
“Then it's settled,” I replied and handed my lightsaber to one of the Lokella even as I cast Observe on him.
Girk Saxon
Race: Human
Level: 35
Health: 100%
Age: 46
Force Potential: Minimal
Threat Potential: Intermediate
Emotional State: Calm/Amused/Eager
Girk is the leader of a Death Watch unit hired to regain the Phrikite mine.
He honestly doesn’t care about the slaves, only the job.
However, he is amused by your behaviour and hopes a fight with a Jedi will make the mission worthwhile.
…
As I wondered how close to Pre Vizsla Girk was, he stepped into the neutral zone between our two forces and pulled two knives from his belt. With more strength than I felt was needed, he tossed one to me.
I caught it easily, B-T making it easy to track as it spun, which earned a nod from the man.
“Heh, maybe this will be a challenge after all,” he muttered as he adopted what I could only assume was a Mandalorian combat stance. “Your death will earn me a fine bonus.”
“You’d have to kill me first,” I replied, slipping into a stance from my old life and activating Force Speed, “and you’re nowhere near good enough to do that.”
He growled under his helmet and came at me.
His knife hand plunged forward, seeking an instant kill, but I slid one foot, avoiding the thrust.
His free hand came thundering in, looking to take advantage of my defensive move, only for my knife to slash against his armoured gauntlet, sending a few sparks flying as the blade scraped against his armour.
The knife lunged, forcing me to step back and away.
An elbow strike was blocked by my forearm, allowing me to land a blow against his side; though the armour made me suspect he barely felt it.
I parried his blade with my own, allowing it to only lash my robes and not my skin.
He swung a hard punch at my head, which I ducked.
Activating Enhance Stat for Strength, I grabbed the trailing arm, twisted and launched him across the bay; his armour clattering as it smashed into the metal floor tiles.
I felt a smile creep onto my face at being able to finally cut loose and fight as I had in my old life.
“Heh, not bad kid,” he muttered as he stood, “you know how to fight.”
“As do you,” I replied as I settled into another stance. “If you would do me the honour, I wish to see the face of the man I fight.”
He stepped back, though his posture did not relax, and removed his helmet.
His hair, while greying, still held hints of blonde around the temples and his dark, heavy-set eyes bore into me as I noted a scar running down his cheek from the ear to his mouth, drawing attention to the angular nature of his chin. I could only assume he kept the scar as a mark of honour, or some such nonsense, instead of having it healed with medical technology.
“I am Girk of Clan Saxon, warrior of Mandalore and your soon-to-be death,” Girk snarled as his eyes stayed focused on me.
I slipped my robe off, absently noting that there were a few cuts in it that I’d have to repair later and that one was stained red with blood – the update had altered Player’s Body so that I bled even as I lost HP – even as he spoke.
“I am Cameron Shan great-grandson of the Jedi Knight Bastila Shan and Dark Lord of the Sith, Revan,” his eyes widened, and his brow rose at my words, “and I'm shocked that this is the best that the warriors of Mandalore have to offer in this day and age. You were once what warriors across the galaxy aspired to. I expected an honourable battle for the ages. I find myself...disappointed. A lack of refinement, coupled with overwhelming arrogance...” I shook my head and pointed my blade at him. “You are no son of Mandalore. You are nothing more than a thug and a coward.”
He snarled, exposing some teeth as his eyebrows threatened to cover his eyes.
“You will pay for that,” he snarled out and charged. It seemed my taunt had worked.
This time, having seen his style was based on aggression and power, I decided to alter my strategy, as I thought I sensed something from a few other attackers at the mention of my name.
Every thrust, punch, strike and blow he attempted was avoided or guided away with as little effort as I could while trying to make it clear that I was unconcerned by his attacks. Which thanks to the combination of Bullet-Time, Precognition and Speed, was not too far from the truth.
Those three powers combined were just overpowered against any non-Force sensitive.
His eyebrows began to knot, causing several large crinkles to appear on his brow, and his mouth opened, exposing more teeth as he grew increasingly frustrated at my disregard of him as a threat.
“DIE!” He screeched as he put everything he had into a frontal attack.
Sensing that this was the moment to counterstrike, I tilted, allowing his extended knife hand to pass by me, before sliding my arm over it and pulling his arm down and against my body.
This trapped his knife away from me and exposed a clear weak point of any armour, the armpit.
My knife easily pierced the protection there, and I pushed it upwards into the shoulder.
His knife clattered to the floor as he became unable to continue holding it.
I pivoted, taking him with me, and drove my knee into the back of his, forcing him down face-first into the deck.
The unmistakable sound of a face hitting metal was heard as I placed my forearm against the base of his neck.
“Surrender!” I growled into his ear, “or die.” I added with a firm whisper that only he could hear as I laced my voice with the Force to convince him to accept.
I pushed down on the neck, making it clear I would carry out my threat, even as I tightened the grip on my knife.
He coughed, spitting out blood and a tooth. “I, I surrender.” He murmured.
My elbow caught an ear. “Louder! So, everyone can hear.” My blade moved so he could see his blood upon it.
“I surrender!” he shouted.
With no ceremony or concern, I stood, pushing his face down into the floor once more, and turned to the attackers.
“Your leader is beaten. Lay down your arms. Now!” Again, I used the Force to strengthen my words even as I held the blood-soaked knife up for all to see and summoned my lightsaber to my free hand.
Most of the attackers, began to lower their weapons, though a few hesitated.
“Do not delay. The people behind me would be more than eager to remove more slavers from the galaxy.”
That seemed to do the trick as the rest began lowering the weapons, with the sounds of many clattering to the ground echoing around the bay.
“I must say, I did not expect a Jedi, especially one as young as yourself, to fight so well,” a female voice said and I turned to see another Mandalorian, and Death Watch member based on the insignia on her armour, casually leaning against a crate that she had no doubt been using as cover during the battle. I relaxed my stance as neither Precognition nor Danger Sense gave any hint of her being a threat.
“Will you honour the terms?” I asked as my grip retightened around the knife. Just because my powers didn’t sense a threat didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be ready for an attack from a member of Death Watch.
Her eyes glanced down before she chuckled. “Of course. Haat, ijaa, haa'it.”
I felt most of the tension leave my body and tossed the knife down beside Girk. “Good. I’d rather not have to kill anymore today.”
“You didn’t kill him,” the female said, gesturing down at Girk. It might have been my imagination, but she sounded disappointed that he was still breathing.
“No, but the crews of all three of your ships died by my actions,” I replied.
She bounced off the crate and her head snapped round to the ship. “Gresh, come in,” she called into her vambrace. “Gresh?”
With no reply coming, she lowered her arm and looked back at me. Her head tilted as she gave me a once-over before she chuckled. “Haar'chak, where did the Jedi find you, kid?”
“In a four-thousand-year-old ship that got lost in time,” I replied with a chuckle as I clipped my lightsaber to my belt.
With the fighting over, Bullet-Time, Speed and Precognition all turned off automatically, however, since I was expecting something to go wrong with the surrender, I re-engaged Precognition.
I made a mental note to alter its combat setting as I planned to keep the power on permanently going forward. It was just too useful a power to not do so with, and with my PF upgrade, it wasn’t a major drain on my FP anymore.
“Come again?” She asked as she pulled off her helmet as the Lokella began to corral the attackers into smaller, more manageable groups. A few bangs of blond hair fell, drawing my attention to her face, but the rest was tied back in a simple ponytail as her greyish eyes focused on me.
“It’s a long story,” I paused as I heard Girk groan. “Make sure he behaves.” My eyes scanned her face, taking in the shape of her cheeks, and the fullness of her lips before I spun, not waiting for her reply, and headed for the door.
The attackers would need accommodation until Dooku returned, and probably protection as I expected several of the Lokella to seek justice for their fallen friends.
“Search the Mandalorians twice,” I ordered a male Duros named Maan who had been working in the mines for over two years. While he was one of the first to sign up for not just defending this place but attacking Hutt/slaver operations, he was more reserved about his desire for revenge than Pad, and as such, someone I had been pushing to assume leadership of the Lokella.
“Actually, get them out of their armour as soon as you can, especially forearms and gauntlets,” I added as I used Eidetic Memory to review everything I had seen/read about their weapons and armour and remembered that many had built weaponry into their armour.
“Will do,” he replied as I moved to walk past him, only for his hand to grip my arm. “I don’t understand what you did but, thank you.”
His large eyes met mine and I found myself standing a little taller.
“Thank the Force. I simply used it to guide us to victory.”
Maan’s eyes widened to a size that would look worrying on a Human's face. “That… I did not know that the Jedi could do such things.”
“Not many can. I…”
I spun as Precognition warned me of an attack from behind and ignited my lightsaber even as Bullet-Time auto-engaged. Without giving it any thought, I deflected a blaster bolt back to where it had come from.
My mouth fell open as I watched Girk slump backwards, a burn mark now scaring his face forever as the pistol he had been holding clattered to the floor.
All around the room, beings froze. Their eyes, regardless of species, bounced between Girk’s now dead body and me as if they were only seeing me for the first time.
“Hol…” my words were drowned out as people on both sides began to fire once more.
Reacting as fast as I could, I generated a barrier between the two groups, letting their blasts harmlessly dissipate against a wall of the Force.
“CEASE FIRE!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, spotting the female Mandalorian crack a Klatooinian hard across the jaw. “I SAID CEASE FIRE!!”
The lights in the bay flickered and something behind me exploded as I felt the anger in me rise at the idiots on both sides who were more willing to die than to live.
It took a while, but slowly, cautiously, the rate of fire against my barrier decreased.
I heard more voices join my own, calling for everyone to stop and saw a third Mandalorian, one who I hadn’t spotted before, actually shoot a Gamorrean in the head to get several of the slavers to stop fighting.
“Dammit,” I growled as I dropped the barrier, though I left my lightsaber ignited as a deterrent to the surrender failing once more.
“I thought you said you accepted the terms?” I snapped at the female as I noted my knuckles whiten.
The female sighed. Her lips were firmly pressed together, and her shoulders slumped as she looked down at the body.
“I did. Girk did not,” she replied in a monotonic voice. “My husband… well, he never was one for honour.”
“Your…” My words caught in my throat and my lightsaber almost slipped from my grip. I gulped. “I’m sorry.”
“No, he chose the terms. The dishonour is his alone. And his death was quick and clean.”
As her gaze moved from the body of her husband to me, she suddenly inhaled sharply as her eyes widened.
“By the… Your lightsaber, where did you get that?” She asked breathlessly.
I lifted the blade cautiously, wondering if her sudden fasciation was a feint before she attacked. “I built it myself,” I replied slowly as I watched her eyes follow the blade, “but I am aware of its similarity to another blade.”
“The Darksaber,” she whispered almost reverently. “To think that another Jedi would build such a blade…” She continued to stare at my lightsaber. Feeling a bit self-conscious for some reason, I deactivated it.
“Um, about your husband…” I offered, wishing to move her attention away from my weapon and back to the dead body.
A soft sound I couldn’t quite catch, escaped her lips before she slowly looked down at Girk’s body.
“As I said, he agreed to the terms and lost. Ori'buyce, kih'kovi,” she muttered in a flat tone as her head lowered.
I couldn’t understand the language she used there, or at times from her and Girk before, but given the pair of new skill notices in my log, I suspected I was going to have a basic understanding soon.
“Will, um,” I stammered and wet my lips, “will this be a problem for you?”
I shook my head at the stupidity of my own words as she refocused her attention on me.
“Sorry, that was…”
“No. I understand your intent,” She gave the body one last glance before stepping towards me. Her shoulders began to droop as she did, and her brow creased a touch.
“There was never much love between us anyway.” She sighed and looked over to where the other attackers were being corralled, rubbing her upper arm a few times. “My brother, however, will not take this well. Nor my son.”
“Forgive me for prying, but who are you and they?” My words came out slowly as I played them over in my head before speaking.
Everything about her body language indicated she accepted Girk’s death, but a feeling in the back of my mind whispered that I should still be cautious with my words.
“Ah, forgive me. I am Nia Vizsla,” I couldn’t stop my face from reacting to hearing her name. “You know of Clan Vizsla?”
“I am the Padawan of Jedi Master Dooku.”
A single eyebrow rose. “Ah, the butcher of Galidraan. Yes, that explains much.” She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “My brother is Pre Vizsla, and while he is a member of the New Mandalorian faction led by Duke Adonai,” she was unable to keep a sneer from her face as she said the name of Satine and Bo’s father – and the current ruler of Mandalore – “he will not take the death of his brother-by-unity well. Nor will my son, who is now the leader of Clan Saxon.”
“That was not my intention,” I said I rubbed the back of my neck. “I wanted to avoid more bloodshed.”
“Yes, I am aware. And I will tell others of that. However, I expect many will seek you out; both to prove themselves against the boy who killed a leader of Death Watch and to claim your blade.” The corner of her lips twitched upwards into a grin. “Though from what I saw here today, they would be foolish to try.”
“That they would.” I cringed at sounding so arrogant. “I mean…”
A single hand raised stopped me from explaining further.
“I understand your meaning adiik,” the twitch had turned into a small smile, though it fell as three members of the Lokella approached. “It seems our time to speak is at an end.”
“For now.” I depowered my blade and reclipped it to my belt. “Your weapons?”
Slowly, taking time to not startle the members of the Lokella, she pulled a pair of blaster pistols that appeared to be the same as those used by Jango from her belt.
Bringing herself to her full height, she stepped forward confidently and handed them to me. “You have earned my respect today, Cameron Shan. I hope that one day we may get the chance to fight together in battle.”
I felt a need to straighten my stance as I took the pistols.
“As do I,” I replied before focusing on the insignia on her chest. “However, for as long as you wear that mark, that day will not come.”
She barked out a short laugh and met my gaze. “That is true.” She stepped back and turned as if to go and join the other captured attackers, before pausing and looking back at me. Her eyes almost clinically examined my frame as I slipped her pistols into my belt.
“Such a shame you are a Jedi.”
I felt my brow crease at her words but said nothing as she was led away, and I watched her leave in silence.
“What was that about?”
I turned at the voice and came eye-to-breast with Baalta.
After saying a small prayer of thanks that I hadn’t yet hit puberty, and one to help me cope when I did, I replied. “Common ground.”
Baalta’s eyes narrowed and she attempted to stare a hole through the departing Mandalorian. “She’s a slaver.” She spat as her lips twisted into a snarl.
“No, she’s a mercenary,” I replied as I used Observe.
Nia Vizsla
Race: Human
Level: 31
Health: 100%
Age: 38
Force Potential: Intermediate
Threat Potential: Intermediate
Emotional State: Dejected/Accepting/Curious
Nia is a believer in a return to the Old Mandalorian ways but a reluctant member of Death Watch.
She is saddened to see her husband, and the father of her children, die.
However, she bears you no ill will as the death was Girk’s dishonour, not yours.
She wonders what the colour of your lightsaber means for her and her people.
…
“The Mandalorians were, are, warriors and many yearn for the old ways of honour through combat,” I explained to Baalta, whose gaze was still focused on Nia even as her head-tails twitched in a seemingly random pattern. “Death Watch, that’s the group these people are a part of, is about the only way that they can embrace that.
“At a guess, I’d say they were working for the Hutts for money to help their group,” Baalta finally turned her attention to me, though only because Nia was now out of sight. “And since they’re not loyal to the ones who were running this slaving ring, they might be willing to provide details.”
“You expect her to freely tell you that?” Her nose crinkled as her montrals seemed to ripple.
“No, but I can probably barter for it.” I paused as a thought came to me. “Were there any others like those two in the assault?”
She gently rubbed her head-tail near her left ear. “There were two where I was, though one’s dead. I’m not sure about the other battle.”
“Find out and have them all segregated away from the others. Make it clear that if anyone tries to harm them, I will deal with them. Provided the Mandalorians don’t kill them first.”
“They’re unarmed,” Baalta replied after blinking.
“I doubt that,” I commented as I stepped away, wanting some privacy to see what the notices were and how I’d done in the quest linked to this battle. “Oh, make sure that their armour is removed, but treat it with respect. The armour means much to them but is often full of hidden weapons and tools.”
“And if they refuse?” Baalta asked as her jawed tightened.
“Come and find me. I’ll be in my quarters.” I replied before rubbing my forehead. Somehow, I just knew that getting the Lokella to treat the Mandalorians carefully was going to be a problem. One that would place me between the two groups.
Yet, if I let the Lokella treat them as other slavers it would only result in trouble that I felt had a greater potential for death and destruction than what I had ordered.
“Yes, Mtael.”
I looked up at her, my brow rising at the new word. However, she had already turned and moved off, heading in the direction that Maan had taken Nia.
“Eh, whatever.”
Turning, I left the bay through another door before ducking into one of the small, and empty, storerooms nearby.
From what I could gather, these had been built to store commonly needed parts for smaller craft carried by this vessel and had been later used by the slavers to store ore from the planet below.
As the door hissed shut, I opened all the notices I had, though I noted that one – a quest alert – wouldn’t; instead, showing a red slash through it.
Skill Learnt!
Language [Mando’a]
Ruling stat: Intelligence
The traditional language of the Mandalorian culture.
…
Skill Learnt!
Martial Art: Beskar’rev
Ruling stat: Strength
One of two traditional fighting styles of the Mando’ade.
Emphasizes hard, fast, devastating attacks.
…
Quest Completed!
Saxon Raider [ɸ]
Objectives:
Defeat Girk Saxon in a duel to determine the fate of the Lokella.
[?] Do so without actively using the Force [Yes]
[?] Avoid the loss of any HP [No]
Rewards:
2000XP (+200XP)
500XP (+50XP)
Increased reputation with present Mandalorians
Massively decreased reputation with Girk Saxon
…
Quest Completed
Land of the Lokella [֍]
Objectives:
Ensure as many of the Lokella survive as you can [173 of 213]
Kill/capture as many of the attackers as you can [222/314 of 536]
Rewards:
Increased reputation with the Lokella faction [x173]
5190XP (+519XP)
3140XP (+314XP)
1110XP (+111XP)
…
While new skills weren’t unexpected – it had happened with the Togruti language after hearing a few members of the species arguing in their native tongue last week – I was a little surprised that the Mandalorian fighting style was listed as a unique martial art.
Still, new skills meant new things to learn; and new ways to gain the levels needed for a bonus stat point.
The quest Saxon Raider was marked as a challenge quest, so I had to assume that the struck-through quest alert was for the creation of said quest. And the ‘reward’ of a large loss in rep with Girk wasn’t an issue, though it did explain why he tried to cheap-shot me.
All that XP, plus the much smaller amount I’d received from the Party XP mechanics, took me over three-quarters of the way to level 21.
I pulled up my Reputation menu and noted that there was now a new option; Lokella. Listed there was every one of the members of the Lokella that had survived the battle, and I noted that many now listed me as Trusted with a few, such as Baalta and Maan, seeing me as Honoured, which might explain why she had called me ‘Mtael’. Though I’d yet to learn what the word meant.
Dismissing all the notices and the menu, I exited the storage space, only to hear raised voices coming from one of the large prayer rooms that had served as a temporary jail for the slavers before Dooku had transported them back to the Republic.
I sighed loudly and looked upwards for a moment before I walked towards the noise, hopeful it wasn’t anything major. Yet somehow, I knew it was only the beginning of the issues I would now have to deal with.
And I mentally began working out how long the food supplies we had would last with an extra three hundred mouths to feed. And how long it would take to sort through the carnage of the battle, prepare the ships and send the surviving attackers back to their superiors.
… …
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… …
I rubbed my eyes as I collapsed into the chair in my quarters and let out a long, loud sigh.
It had been four days since the battle and in that time, I’d been, dealing with, day and night, small, niggling issues. Issues, which for some insane reason, the Lokella suddenly felt the need to run past me instead of handling it themselves as they had done for the past few weeks. Most of those issues centred around the roughly three hundred captives we had taken after the battle.
The least critical issue, but loudest and most persistent, was dealing with Pad Keba. He, and a loyal band of about thirty, had been less than keen to keep to my agreement with the Death Watch unit that had led the attack. Indeed, six of that group had felt that because they were armed, and the Mandalorians were not, they could renegotiate the terms. To say it hadn’t gone as they planned would be an understatement.
Nineteen broken bones, including a rather gruesome fibula that had been forced through a knee, and one missing eye were the result of their attempted renegotiation. And all of that had happened to the Lokella. Pad had demanded revenge, though I had shouted him down with the threat that the next person to harm one of our prisoners would meet my blade. It wasn’t the Jedi way to use their anger to control a situation, but the High Council wasn’t here; nor were they going to hear about these instances in any report they made me submit about my time here.
Pad had stormed off after my threat, and I hadn’t seen him in over a day since, but thankfully, all but the identified leaders of the attack were now gone.
As for the Mandalorians, I was confused.
While all had admitted to their part in the attack, and as members of Death Watch, they had identified a small group that reported directly to Decca the Hutt. Said group was now being held under guards – ones that I knew thanks to the interface and my powers had no connection to Pad Keba – for transport to a republic stronghold for trial.
For that help, I had allowed the Mandalorians to leave and even placed one of the captured raiders at their disposal, but they had instead stayed and were now helping with the training of the Lokella.
Many of the Lokella had been reluctant to take that training, but some were willing and while it was aggressive, verging on brutal, I couldn’t fault its effectiveness.
I’d used the Force and Observe on the Mandos to try to determine their plans, but only Nia seemed to know anything and her mental discipline was strong enough that I couldn’t tell what she was thinking without her sensing my probes. Yet, I didn’t have a bad feeling about her actions.
Though discovering that one of the four surviving Mandos was from Clan Ordo was a nice surprise; even if the way he looked at me was a touch unnerving.
The more major, but less taxing, issue that I had dumped on me was organizing plans for the establishment of a settlement on the planet below for the growing of crops and potential mining phrikite.
Every time that issue had been brought to me, I’d informed the Lokella that it was an issue for them to handle themselves. They had always countered with some variant of the argument that because of my actions, every major decision was to be confirmed by me. How, when and why I had fallen into the position of de facto leader of the Lokella, I honestly, didn’t care about. Only that I was growing to hate having to deal with multiple minor daily issues for a group that was as large as a village.
My respect for Palpatine, Padme and others for dealing with issues in the Senate had increased dramatically over the last few days and it reaffirmed my statement to Palatine about not wanting to be a Senator.
Gently, sighing tiredly as I did, I prised my head from my hands and stood, stumbling a little as I began to move.
While Player’s Body meant I couldn’t get physically tired like a normal person – only having to watch my stamina and hunger levels – it appeared that I could still get mentally tired. Or at least I could since the update.
While I could use Player’s Mind to clear the tiredness and building headache, I did not like the way that power negated my emotions to such a degree that I felt less than sentient when I used it. And I was looking forward to a good, long sleep.
My robes, restored to pristine condition with the Force, fell to the floor as I crashed onto my bunk, humming as the soft mattress shifted under my weight.
My eyes closed and I sighed at finally, finally getting to…
-BUZZ-
My fingers dragged across my face as the door intercom buzzed for attention.
Perhaps if I ignored it, it wou…
-BUZZ-
“Argh!” I growled as my feet slammed loudly against the floor. “Yes?” I half-shouted, half growled as I pulled my robes to me and slipped them back on.
The door opened and Reithe began to step inside.
His eyes widened as he met my glare and he stopped in the doorframe.
“Um, they, uh, need you in command,” he said in a higher pitch than normal.
“What is it this time?” I moaned as I stood and pulled my robes to me.
“Um, th… there’s a new ship in the system,” he replied as he began to fidget.
I looked upwards and sighed loudly. “Bloody hell,” I mumbled and shook my head. “Fine, let’s go and see what the adults need a damm child for this time.”
I marched past him, making him leap back to avoid me hitting him, and stormed down the corridor, engaging Player’s Mind just long enough to clear my head and centre myself.
“H-hey!” Reithe called and I heard the door close as he ran to catch up with me.
As we moved through the corridors of the massive cathedral-ship, I watched as many we ran into lowered their head as we passed. This was linked to the word Baalta had used; mtael. A word in Togruti which, when translated into Basic, meant Nature’s Chosen.
As such, I hated it.
Yet, the more I protested at her using the term, the more others had begun to use it freely. It seemed that using Battle Meditation and helping them survive the reprisal attack had more of an effect than just raising their opinions of me.
“Mtael, welcome,” an older yellow-skinned Togruta with four head-tails named Ezan said as I entered the command centre.
I managed to force myself to give him a civil smile as he partially bowed. “We have visitors?” I asked slowly, using every mental trick I had short of re-engaging Player’s Mind to keep my anger and annoyance under control at having to deal with another issue that the Lokella should be handling themselves.
“Yes, a small ship has been detected on the edge of the system,” he pointed at the main display which showed the approaching vessel. “Our patrol is on the other side of the system, guarding the hyperspace route into Hutt Space.”
“Then who…”
“We have an incoming signal,” a Rodian called out from one of the stations.
“Respond.” I snapped out, wanting to get back to my bed as quickly as possible.
The display shifted from the holographic map to three familiar figures, though one was far from expected.
“Greetings Padawan, I do hope we are not inconveniencing you,” Master Plo Koon said as he stood beside Fay and Dooku. Somehow, I knew he could sense my feelings even at the distance and was taking some enjoyment from it.
“No, sir,” I began, “I’m simply tired from dealing with the aftermath of the attack by the Hutts.”
The three Jedi Masters shared a look.
“Are you well?” Dooku asked, his voice calm as his brow knotted just a little.
“Yes. I... Perhaps it is better if we talk in person?” I said slowly, not sure how he would react to discovering that I had Death Watch members on the station.
“Yes, I believe that would be best,” Plo Koon replied as I silently wondered why a member of the High Council had come. “I’m sure your tale will be most illuminating.”
The display shifted back to that of the surrounding space once more.
“YES!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, shocking everyone else in the room.
Even as they all blinked and stared at me with various expressions, I turned on my heels and set off for the bay, whistling.
I ignored the looks several members of the Lokella gave me as I almost bounced between steps, happy that someone else would have to deal with all the stupid, annoying hassles of this place.
… …
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… …