Chapter 3

Blake Belladonna had not seen the stars in a long time.

Clouds, yes. And rain, thunderstorms high in the sky booming down across the swamps and jungles and echoing among the high-rise buildings of Kaas city, and storms of wind and water and light that filled the ever-present gloom of the Imperial Capital. But she had not gazed upon the stars for a long time.

She strode across the cool, rolled durasteel of the bridge and gazed up through the viewports at the distant, shimmering diamonds.

"They're beautiful," she said aloud.

She could practically hear the gears in DS-71's metal skull whirring. "I cannot recognize beauty, nor feelings of wonder or amazement. However, I can analyze those stars and plot another hyperspace jump, if you desire, mistress."

"Stop calling me that," Blake said as she rested her hand on her chin and looked out.

"Of course, mistress."

She sighed. Droids. "So does that mean the hyperdrive is fixed? It took a bad hit when we tried to jump from Dromund."

The droid looked at her before returning its attention to the controls. "I never said that we would be able to jump to any of those systems; merely that I could plot a course."

Blake sighed again. "What planet is that?" she asked, gesturing to the immense white and brown orb filling the bottom starward corner of the viewport. 71 was silent for a moment before jerking like a driver hitting the brakes too hard.

"Harloen. A planet and system lightly policed by Imperial law and order. Reportedly a haven for smugglers and other outlaws in its rugged southern hemisphere, which is coincidentally also considered the swoop-bike racing capital of the Outer Rim territories."

Blake rolled her eyes. "Great. How lightly protected is lightly protected?"

"I detect a large Imperial outpost at the planetary capital, and two frigates in high orbit over the main continent."

She nodded. "Avoid those frigates and scan for a landing zone as far from the capital as you can get. We'll pawn this ship and hopefully get our hands on something less conspicuous than an Imperial shuttle." The droid chirped in acknowledgement and Blake strode to her cabin, immediately aft of the bridge. The door slid open at her behest and she sat at the edge of the simple, military-style bed there. Usually, a cabin like this would serve as quarters for an officer. The interior was spartan but not totally barren, and a duraglass viewport overhead gave anyone on their back in the bunk a clear view of the space beyond.

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. How long had it been since she had slept? She had fled Kaas City two days earlier... or was it three? Time was difficult to tell in the emptiness of hyperspace travel, and frankly, she was amazed they had made it as far as they did. During their flight an Imperial turbolaser had all-but vaporized the hyperdrive core, and both the young acolyte and her droid companion knew that it was only a matter of time before the core failed.

Lying back and gazing up at the vast, unknowable expanse of the galaxy beyond the viewport, Blake marvelled at how quickly things changed. Her eyes closed but for a moment and she found herself in a field. The air was energetic - electric - fresh with the scents of thunder and blood.

She heard a sound and wheeled just in time to see the hunters come over the hill. The droids were immense - two-meter tall, three-legged killing machines that tracked her in an instant and leveled weapons to fire. Even as their blaster cannons barked and flashes of red darted across the space, her hands were suddenly filled. The lightsabers sprang to life with a simultaneous hiss and the shots were deflected harmlessly with an almost-carefree twist of each wrist. The barrage continued, but Blake was on the offensive now. She charged forward, deflecting shots as she went. One blast refracted off her lightsaber and returned directly to the source, the charged energy not even seeming to phase the lead droid as it was struck full-force.

She leapt into the air, somersaulting and slashing downward with both lightsabers as her feet found solid ground again. The same droid that had been struck by the blaster bolt fell to the ground in two separate pieces. She leapt backwards as the other two fired at her, their bolts searing each other instead. She threw one lightsaber from her left hand, watching the blade sink to the hilt in the skull-plate of another droid as she reflected several more shots from the other. A surge of force power brought her thrown blade back to her hand, and a vicious cross-slash heralded the end of the last droid.

"Impressive," came the voice from behind her, quiet and menacing as always. Her master stood there, black and red cowl hiding his face behind a veil of shadows. He nudged one of the fallen droids with the toe of his boot. "Very impressive," he repeated. "But cowardly. You're clearly capable of holding your own, so why run? Why not stand and fight?"

She was ready for his questioning; the battle was never the end of the conflict with him. "Advantageous position. When I first encountered the droids, the area was much more enclosed. Maneuvering was difficult and my enemies had the advantage of surprise."

"But here you were fighting an uphill battle - the oldest example of a tactically inferior position. What have you to say on that matter?"

"You know my fighting style as well as anyone, master. I fight best when afforded plenty of space to move - outpacing my foes. The elevation had nothing to do with it. The open space gave me the necessary room to evade my foes attacks and strike back with optimum capability."

Her master nodded thoughtfully before stepping closer to her. The air before her face was suddenly filled with a blazing red energy, the blade of her master's lightsaber crackling mere centimeters from her face.

"I had those droids ambush you so that you would adapt to your surroundings and fight them under the circumstances you were presented; not so that you could run and face them on your own terms. You defeated them because you manipulated them, but your foes will not always be so easy to deceive. Remember that."

"Yes, master." She allowed herself to look crestfallen only after he had departed, angrily kicking one of the defunct droids and following the billowing robes of her master.

Time moved by like the snapping of fingers, and when again her mind focused on the past she could feel the heat of her opponent's lightsaber as it cut past her face. Swearing, she recovered from her leaning-duck and swung both her blades around at her foe in a tight arc, bashing until he was forced to afford her some breathing space.

The two combatants circled warily, Blake's own dual lightsabers steady as could be while her opponent's single weapon twitched nervously in time with his hand's own sporadic movements. From the edges of the ring, the gathered acolytes, warriors and the two fighters' own masters watched with anticipation.

Blake's move was the next one. She darted forward, hopping into the air and swinging her right hand blade wide. Treyus' own blade touched off the incoming one before he pivoted and blocked her follow-up stroke. He swung his own blade again and Blake caught it off her right-hand saber before delivering a heavy kick into her fellow apprentice's sternum. The Lorridian staggered backwards, bringing his lightsaber back to a defensive position just in time to avoid being struck by both Blake's blades in a single downward stroke.

"Not good enough!" Treyus' master called from nearby. "Fight back! Strike her!" Setting his jaw into a hard line, Treyus lashed out, pushing against Blake and spinning in the air, his heel sailing towards Blake's head. Letting go of her left hand blade and allowing the lightsaber spin in midair between them as time seemed to slow, she raised her left arm and felt the impact of Treyus' heel striking her forearm.

Lashing out with her right arm, she sent the tip of her lightsaber soaring to Treyus' throat. He leaned back just in time, but the top collar of his tunic was still singed by the passing blade. He cursed loudly and twisted away from Blake's grasp, a burst of force from his open palm sending her recoiling.

The crowd cried out in excitement as the duel resumed, sabers clashing in the dim light of the training room. Every crash sent a thunderclap rolling across the open floor. Treyus swung overhand and Blake pushed the blade away with her left hand before swinging across with her right, the tip of the weapon seeming to surge an even deeper blood red as the beam made contact.

Treyus called out and his lightsaber fell from his grasp, deactivating on the floor as he clutched the smoking wound in his side. He looked up, eyes filling with fear and hatred as Blake's blades leveled at his throat.

A hush fell over the hall and Blake could hear footsteps approaching, even as she never took her eyes from Treyus' kneeling form. The voice of her master in her ear was like metal fingers doing a hand-jig up her spine.

"Finish it."

She felt her hands begin to shake as Treyus' eyes gazed up at her. There was no fear there. Only cold acceptance and rage. "Do it!" he hissed. "Do it or you'll kill us both!"

"Blake," her master said. "Do not hesitate. He would not. Strike him down and be done with it."

"I…"

"Do it!"

She felt the palpable tension as she slowly lowered her blades. She could practically hear her master grinding his teeth and a few acolytes in the crowd jeered before their masters silenced them. Treyus swore and began to rise before the pain in his side brought him back to his knees, crying out in agony. Blake's master kicked him heartily in the same side as the wound and glared at him as he sprawled out.

"Crawl to a medic and get your worthless hide sewn back together. As for you," he said, turning back to Blake. "We will have words on this matter."

Time blurred once more and Blake felt the cold stone of the Kaas city street beneath her as she walked, huddled deep within the folds of a night-black cloak. Speeder cars hummed past overhead and walkers on the street paid her no heed as they went about their business. The building was squat, unassuming and grey - just like everything else on this planet. Faint light streamed from a few aged streetlamps and Blake checked over her shoulder for the hundredth time as she knocked rapidly. When nobody answered, she passed her hand over the locking mechanism, a pulse of force energy sending the tumblers spinning into place as the old-fashioned door slid open before her.

The dim interior of the warehouse was lit by outside light, and Blake froze as she saw the blaster leveled at her chest. Her lips curled into a snarl. "Hope you're a better shot than you are a swordsman, Treyus."

The acolyte looked at her, seething with rage. The blaster never lowered. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow a hole in your head. After all, if I'm going to die I might as well kill you first."

Cocked an eyebrow, ears twitching suspiciously. "And who's going to kill you, Treyus?"

The Lorridian laughed - a hoarse, barking sound. "For all your skill, you're as naive as you are pretentious. I'm not like you, Blake; I'm not afraid to kill. If I had taken the upper hand today, you'd be dead and I'd be one step closer to becoming a true warrior. Instead, your weakness has painted a target on both of us."

"That's not true!" she cried, taking a step forward and letting her hand fall slowly to one of her lightsabers as Treyus' blaster re-focused. "We're acolytes - the future of the Sith empire! If they killed us, they'd be hurting themselves and themselves alone."

Treyus laughed again - a sound she was rapidly coming to hate. "You think that we matter to them? We're as expendable as the droids they send against us in training. You ought to remember one of the first things they taught us, Blake: the force is power, the greatest there is in the galaxy. But if you're not willing to use that power then it's worthless - baggage. And that's all we are, too."

She wanted to argue - wanted to scream that her master would never allow… he'd never do something like… did she even believe it? Every time he opened his mouth she hated him a little more and realized in increments that he was right. But what if this was just another test? To see if they would break and run instead of standing and fighting like real Sith warriors?

Her eyes darted to the pile of aging crates that Treyus huddled by. A bag was sitting there - open, its contents strewn about. Ration packs, a medical kit, spare clothing, blaster packs…

"You're leaving," she said, realization hitting her suddenly. Treyus nodded, the muzzle of his blaster bobbing with the action.

"I am not going to die in this swamp. I'll run. That's the thing they don't figure; they've given us this power and taught us to use it, never thinking that we'll use it against them."

Blake shook her head. "You're a fool, Treyus. That's exactly what they think. What they expect - what they want! The power struggle; that's what matters. They'll hunt you down and kill you no matter where you go."

The near-human shook his head in turn, eyes flashing in the dim light. "Maybe that's the case for you. But I'm better than you, if for no other reason than because I'm not ruled by fear of my own abilities." Finally, after a moment of wavering on the razor's edge, the blaster lowered. "Go," he said. "Tell no one you saw me here. I'm leaving now. Don't try to follow me."

Even as he said the words and finished packing the bag, Blake's sensitive ears were assaulted with the roar of engines. She turned and looked out onto the same drive she had approached the warehouse on, where pedestrians were scattering in the wake of the landing of a pair of Imperial dropships.

Treyus swore loudly, the blaster reappearing. "You led them right to me, you bitch!" Shots seared the air and Blake rolled out of the way, ducking behind a pile of crates. His courage overcoming his fear, Treyus slung his bag over his shoulder and bolted out the way Blake had come, firing a few wild shots in her direction as insurance as he ran headlong into the square.

Already, Imperial soldiers were dropping from the landing ramps of the craft, leveling rifles at the lone figure in a billowing travel cloak. "Halt!" a soldier bearing an officer's bars on his shoulder called. "By order of Imperial authorities, you are under arrest for the high crime of treason. Surrender and you will be granted fair trial!"

In response, Treyus snapped off a shot with his blaster, the plasma boring a hole through the captain's faceplate and the skull it protected. The man dropped wordlessly to the pavement and the remaining soldiers opened fire. Blake watched from her hiding place as Treyus rolled out of the way, firing volleys of crimson bolts into the crowd of troopers. When a stray shot blew the weapon from his hands, his lightsaber appeared before him and began reflecting shots back at his aggressors. For all his talk and bravado though, Treyus was still only a student of the Sith codices. Blake winced and resisted the urge to cry out as he faltered, energy bolts spearing through his only momentarily vulnerable form as though he were made of paper. He dropped soundlessly to the ground, his lightsaber flickering and dying beside him.

But the soldiers did not stop. Two checked Treyus' still form as the rest of the group advanced slowly on the building. A man with a lieutenant's insignia was leaning on another trooper, nursing a blaster wound to his shoulder. "Find her. We know she's here. Lord Taurus ordered them both dead and I'd rather deal with a couple scared kids than a pissed-off Sith lord."

The trooper's words bored into Blake's skull as she huddled by the pile of crates. "Lord Taurus ordered them both dead…"

Master…

She stood, holding her hands up in the air and the wall of plastiques and metalloids in front of her jumped before leveling their rifles. "Hands up!" called one of the nearer soldiers.

"Don't do anything stupid, girly," advised another. "You saw what happened to your friend."

"Wait!" she cried. "Don't fire! I am not your enemy; I'm not with Treyus! I wasn't trying to run, I came here to talk him out of running!"

There was a moment of indecision while a few of the men at the front rank of the group looked at eachother before their officer snarled behind his helmet. "I'm not putting my neck on the block for her. Open fire!"

"No!" she cried, but it was already too late. For both sides, it was a matter of survival. The front row of soldiers fired in unison, waves of crimson blaster bolts frying the air between them and Blake. Her lightsabers were up in an instant, every twitch of her wrist refracting one of the lethal rays back at the group of soldiers.

Forgive me… She leapt forward, blades whirring as she cartwheeled amidst searing death. She felt the brief push of resistance as her right-hand saber passed through the shoulder of the nearest man, his cry shattering the space around her as the tip of her lightsaber blazed a glowing scar down his torso. Her left wrist twisted and a shot reflected back into the chest of the man who had fired it, the soldier flopping backwards wordlessly as the battle continued to rage around his lifeless body.

Her mind raced. She needed to go. To flee. To get away. Her droid - DS-71 - he could pilot. She just needed a ship. After that where would she go? Where could she go? Time for that later; right now she just had to survive. She broke from the crowd of aggressors, a burst of force staggering several of her attackers, before she sprinted off towards the docks.

Suddenly, the memory shattered. Blake winced, pressing the heel of her palm to her temple as a searing, red-tinted pain blossomed there. The thing she felt there was malevolent; evil. It bored into her skull and sent shivers down her spine, and within the presence she understood why she was so uneasy. It was not just familiar, it was watching her. Searching for her. And it found her.

She jumped up, blowing through her door and sprinting back to the bridge. "Get ready to make the jump to hyperspace!" she cried to 71. The droid looked at her in the closest thing it could manage to confusion.

"Mistress, I have already explained. The hyperdrive is damaged too severely to be repaired in-transit." She swore.

"Then do something; the Imperials are tracking us!" Suddenly, an alarm blared on the console and Blake looked at it suspiciously, fearing she knew exactly what it meant.

71 confirmed her fears. "The two Imperial frigates I detected earlier have made an adjustment to their course. They are on intercept trajectory."

"Get us out of her, 71!" She jumped into the chair on the raised platform just aft of the pilot's seat. She punched a few glowing buttons and flexed her fingers around the control stick that sat before a now-lit viewscreen. She pushed the stick up, down and side-to-side, testing the viewfinder of the cannon. "Give me a report, 71!"

"The frigates are holding at defensive position over the planet, facing us broadside. The nearer of the two ships has just deployed a squadron of fighters - they are headed toward our position."

"I want you to plot a course for the planet's surface - the southern hemisphere. Broadcast a distress beacon on every channel flagged non-Imperial, and get ready to take evasive maneuvers."

Are you watching, master? You always said I was weak because I wasn't willing to do what I had to in order to survive. Well now I'm going to live and get away; no matter what I have to do.

"Mistress, the first wing of fighters is closing. Estimated time before we are in their effective weapon's range: 15 seconds."

She flexed her fingers again, centering the turret on the distant foe and watching as an array of red squares appeared on her viewfinder. She focused on the nearest one, the border of the square shifting to an uncomfortable yellow color while a child sounded from the panel. She squeezed the trigger of the weapon.

A stream of green plasma bolts sprayed from the cannon, and in the distance the first fighter disintegrated into a wave of dust and fragments. One of many red squares disappeared from the viewfinder, and she adjusted her targeting before firing again.

The ship bucked and rolled around her as 71's combat suite kicked into effect, the shuttle swinging between the incoming Imperial fire. Blake laid on the trigger, watching the Imperial ships weave between her own assault and buzz past the slower shuttle. She rotated the cannon and blew a fighter to pieces as it swung past, feeling a bead of sweat trace its way down her forehead as she continued to fire.

The fighters swung around and a bank of crimson fire raked over the shuttle. Blake struggled to hold on as the ship bucked. "Shields at 55%," 71 chimed.

"Thank you, 71! Now, if you don't mind, try to keep us from getting hit again! How long until we break atmo?"

"Entrance to atmosphere in approximately forty-seven seconds. But Mistress, I must warn you, the Imperial frigates are holding position."

"Let me worry about the frigates; you just keep us from getting blown to dust!" She rotated the cannon ever-so-slightly and closed her eyes for a moment, honing in on her target before her eyes snapped open again and a burst of cannon-fire vaporized another pursuer. Realising that her window was closing, she swung the cannon and took a long look at the two Imperial frigates rapidly growing in the viewscreen. Each one bristled with turbolasers, the heavy batteries already beginning to track the errant shuttle.

"Mistress, I have access to the full statistics of every vessel currently in use by the Imperial navy. Those frigates are armed with more than twenty heavy turbolasers apiece, a single of which would completely disintegrate this craft if a single shot were to land. Based on this and our state of pursuit, I calculate our odds of survival at-"

"71, so help me, shut down your vocabulator or I will have you dismantled and sold for scrap!" She leapt out of the gunner's chair and nimbly headed down to the co-pilot's seat, grabbing the controls and switching manual flight from 71's console to her own. "Prepare countermeasures and divert all available power to forward thrusters."

"Mistress, if we take a hit from any source when our power is diverted-"

"Just do it, 71!" She closed her eyes as the shuttle hurtled toward her target; a gap directly between the two frigates. Barely wide enough for the ship to pass through, but it was their best shot. If they tried to go ventrally or dorsally around the capital ships, the flak guns on the frigates would blow them to smithereens before they could break atmo.

The gap got closer and closer with every passing moment and the whole ship began to rattle as their forward acceleration grew dangerously close to the ship's threshold. She opened her eyes again and tweaked the controls just slightly, the shuttle gliding through the gap with meters to spare on either side. "71, divert power back to the deflectors and get us down to the planet's-"

The ship shook violently and Blake's sensitive ears pounded as a the shockwave nearly threw her from her seat. A klaxon blared and red auxiliary lighting filled the cockpit.

"Mistress, one of the fighters has landed a direct hit. Our forward thrusters are damaged, and life-support has also taken a hit. Our power core is also critical, and the ship is leaking fuel and coolant. On the bright side, we have entered the planet's atmosphere, and are on course to land near the settlement of Beronate."

"First good news I've heard all day, 71," Blake said through gritted teeth as she struggled to maintain control of the craft. A haze of burning oxygen formed around the viewport and the cockpit grew uncomfortably hot as the close layer dissipated, giving way to a barren expanse of ground in various shades of ground. Most troubling of all was the rapid approach of the landmass, far faster than the former acolyte or her droid companion could account for.

Is this it, then? she wondered. Was my master right? Am I too weak to survive in the real galaxy?

She closed her eyes for the third time, taking a deep breath and feeling the strength that she had always drawn from hatred, fear and pain rush through her. Now though, it wasn't any of these things that fueled her. For the first time, she was driven by her own desire not just to survive, but to live and see peace in her life.

Watch closely, master.

As the ground hurtled closer and closer and the alarm grew louder in her ears, Blake strapped herself into the flight seat and diverted all remaining power to the forward inertial dampeners. Firing on all cylinders, she tilted the flight controls up and breathed deeply as the ground finally arrived. The shock of impact felt as though she had taken an artillery shell to the chest, and she felt as though her neck would snap clear of her shoulders. She remained though, hands glued to the controls as the ship dug a trench along the rocky earth.

The craft struck a large boulder and jumped several meters back into the air. As it descended again, she felt the weight of fatigue and expense overtaking her. The darkness crept in from the edges of her vision, and she smiled manically as the world went black.

AN - Whew. That… took longer than expected. I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoyed. There was a lot to fit into this chapter and I hope the actions served to keep it from becoming too much of an exposition dump. Anyway, Blake is (obviously) going to be a very important character, especially once we get all the characters introduced and their stories start overlapping.

It's a matter of finesse, balancing this story, Bellringer and everything else. I haven't had nearly as much time as I thought I would, now that I'm unemployed, but I'm getting work done when I can. In a couple weeks time I'll be going to visit my brother and sister-in-law, and once that time comes I'll have plenty of time to sit down and crack out some good chapters. I apologize for the wait, but I promise I haven't forgotten about you guys or this story.

Discrepancies and Notes

Next time, our fourth and final "introductory" chapter, where we get to meet the last of our protagonists. If you haven't figured out who it is by now, I honestly can't help you. Thanks for reading!