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The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

Reader mode
TroubleFait said:
Deny, deflect, deceive. We're not normal, but we're definitely not the Jedi younglings you're looking for.
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The golden rule of disguise! Don't look like a nobody, look like you're somebody who is less of a problem than your real identity. A false sense of security is as dangerous as a dark shadow...
Simonbob said:
He really is the weirdest Jedi.

But rolling with it just works way too well.
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"I legally have to inform you that I am not a Jedi!"
Psyentific said:
Next step of the plan: Claim the $1M prize for finding two jedi padawans.
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While holding up a thermal detonator, of course...
 
shargle said:
excellent fight choreography.
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TroubleFait said:
Right! It's entertaining and easy to follow.
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Aw, thank you!

I know Star Wars was in large part inspired by saturday morning matinees, samurai films, and westerns, because that's what influenced George Lucas a lot growing up and studying to become an artist. In the same way, I grew up watching a lot of 80's Hong Kong kung fu movies. Now that I've gotten rid of Nerim's lightsaber, I have an excuse to really bring that particular influence to the forefront!
 
It's a shame this is on the SFW board of QQ. It's really not getting the attention it deserves. Heck, I only found it because I clicked on the wrong board by accident. SFW stories can go on the NSFW boards, and that's not to mention the other two members of the forum trio. Spacebattles in particular has a lot of appetite for stuff like this.
 
EvilLlamaHypnotist said:
It's a shame this is on the SFW board of QQ. It's really not getting the attention it deserves. Heck, I only found it because I clicked on the wrong board by accident. SFW stories can go on the NSFW boards, and that's not to mention the other two members of the forum trio. Spacebattles in particular has a lot of appetite for stuff like this.
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It had not occurred to me that one could post SFW stories in the NSFW board. I really didn't think that much about how I posted it when I started, actually, I had only started posting it on a dare in the first place. It's a shame if that's really kneecapped the story's reach, since I actually do kinda want people to read it nowadays! I'm so unaware of fanfic culture that I don't even know what the third member of the trio is lol
 
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The upside of keeping it on the SFW side of things though is you get less of a demand or speculation of when NSFW scenes will show up. And if the goal is just more visibility, there is always the side option of plot irrelevant NSFW scenes put in an "Extras" thread on the NSFW side of things that would direct them back to this SFW core story as sort of underhanded advertising.
 
Necrovore said:
The upside of keeping it on the SFW side of things though is you get less of a demand or speculation of when NSFW scenes will show up. And if the goal is just more visibility, there is always the side option of plot irrelevant NSFW scenes put in an "Extras" thread on the NSFW side of things that would direct them back to this SFW core story as sort of underhanded advertising.
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I have been known to make side-smut in the past...Although I haven't considered it much for TFASY. What the characters involved would be is an interesting thought. Obviously the first choice would be...Fae Coven smut...yeah, THAT'S what the market wants, baby...!
 
Chapter 59: Very Grumpy New
Chapter 59: Very Grumpy​

Nerim sipped at his drink and cast a quick glance across the black-clad Syaniids. Vena Riila was nowhere to be seen, and he had a feeling that she was stuck on duty guarding Arwain, perhaps still unaware of his immediate presence. The Syaniids before him were a mix of individuals, one a Mirialan woman, another a Kaleesh with heavy scars across her face, a third Rodian who's fingers twitched in anticipation under the folds of her poncho. It was shocking to him to see so many Force Sensitives in one place outside of the Temple.

He slowly began to notice all of their eyes were settled on Tetha. He could almost see currents in the Force, like sonar pings directed towards her. They were most certainly becoming aware of her Force Sensitivity. Although according to his plan of deception, none seemed to study him for more than a few moments.

Yenchara scratched her side and stared down coldly at the two of them. "In whose employ are you?"

"Jobless, your omnipotence," Tetha said quickly with a light curtsy. "That's actually why we're here."

The Hutt scoffed. "So you're not in the employ of Skissa?"

Tetha silently nodded, maintaining a stony, blank expression.

"Then how did you get in?" Yenchara asked, making a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a growl.

"I'm...something of a cat burglar," Tetha replied.

Yenchara stared at her quietly for a tense, long moment, tilting her head side to side as transparent membranes flicked over her eyes. During the silence, one of the Syaniids, a woman climbed up the side of the palanquin and whispered in Yenchara's ear. She was of the Sephi race, a near-human species mostly noted for their pointed ears and strangely long fingers. Then Yenchara turned and raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "You think this is the youngling?"

"No, Almighty One," the Sephi said deferentially with a slight bow, "She is not trained in the Jedi arts."

"Hhrrng..." Yenchara's eyes slid towards Nerim, and she gestured at him. "And that one? It's a Mirialan."

The Syaniids turned towards him almost with confusion, remembering that he was also present. He stood up from the bar and shuffled over beside Tetha, drink still in hand, shrugging in an expression of relaxed confusion.

"Just an associate of hers, Almighty One," the Syaniid said. "He is not strong with the Force."

"Strong with his legs," Yenchara laughed, casting another glance in the direction of the Human who was frustratedly smoothing out his red coat.

Nerim smirked and raised his glass. "Magic powers and silly superstitions tend to go out the window when you taste boot."

"Hah, like the spirit on that one," Yenchara chuckled deeply. The Sephi tightly frowned. He sensed some amount of tension between them—Opposite to the fears he heard expressed in the crowd earlier, it seemed Yenchara was not overly influenced by the Syaniids. Rather, the Syaniids seemed somewhat frustrated with her dismissal of their advice. Yenchara maintained a stare of suspicion on Nerim, but then spoke to Tetha. "Breaking into my party? I should have a collar put on you. Or feed you to the Killiks!"

A Killik in the crowd—a decidedly sentient if inhuman bug species—gulped nervously.

Tetha bowed deeply. "Slavery to a Hutt such as yourself is salvation compared to the alternative," she said flatteringly.

"Oooh!" Yenchara lit up. "What fine manners, yes..."

"Almighty One..." The Sephi spoke quietly, enough that Nerim had to focus to hear. "In regards to our deal on recruiting..."

The Hutt glanced sideways at the Syaniid for a moment, alien calculations happening behind her eyes. Instead of answering, she looked back at Nerim. "Where are you from, boy? Where's your tattoos?"

"I'm from Coruscant," he answered truthfully. "I don't have any tattoos because I haven't accomplished anything of note."

"Oh? And yet so confident," she countered. Nerim shrugged. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but those were Echani martial arts, weren't they?"

She was wrong, but only slightly. Technically they were Jedi martial arts, but much of the curriculum had been copied from Echani knowledge, and he was careful to use only the oldest moves, and nothing uniquely Jedi. He nodded anyways. "I've picked up some things. Can I ask why you're so interested in the martial arts?"

It was a bold thing, to ask a question to a Hutt like that, but at this point he felt weakness would only have their cover fold before her. And also he was a little overconfident from the alcohol. Regardless, Yenchara smiled. "What better way to confront an enemy immune to conventional weapons?"

He blinked. That was it. None of her guards were armed with blasters because blasters wouldn't do much to a Mandalorian in full beskar. Even in the Jedi Order, he had been taught that if by some incredible happenstance he find himself facing an armored Mandalorian, one good strategy would be to go for joint locks and throws to break limbs and cause concussions, rather than attempt to swing at small gaps in the armor with his lightsaber. The Syaniids were meant to pose a threat to the force Skissa had amassed that was otherwise without challenge.

He noticed the growing impatience in the black-clad Sephi, who was awaiting an answer from Yenchara. The Hutt looked over to her and then rolled her eyes in an exaggerated expression. "Hnnn. As I recall, our agreement was that you got the first pick of Force Sensitives we found. This one found us. I think that makes her mine," the Hutt said smugly. The Sephi visibly held herself back from disagreeing.

There was a definite murmur in the crowd. The teetering balance of their perceived power shifted slightly—although it seemed to Nerim that the Syaniids were more concerned with the loss of a potential recruit than the loss of face, while Yenchara's mind was on the opposite.

The Syaniid nodded towards Nerim. "Should we get rid of her street rat then, Almighty One?"

"No!" The Hutt grinned snakishly. "I have a good feeling about this one. He goes to the pit."

The Syaniid woman stared at the Hutt for a short moment, and then bowed stiffly. He sensed both a sort of resignation and anticipation in her, as if she had fully accepted the optimal solution was gone, but that she could still salvage the situation. That was perhaps the most worrying emotion that he could imagine sensing at that moment.

He glanced to Tetha, who gave him the same worried expression. But seeing as the only other option was to enter an open firefight in the middle of the atrium, they had no real choice. Two Syaniids approached him on either side and gestured for him to walk forward, with the clear implication that they would make him if they didn't. He avoided eye contact with either of them, continuing to hold Tetha's eyes.

"I'll see you soon," he said with a reassuring smile.

"I love you," she replied, returning a slightly wary smile.

Nerim wasn't able to reply before the Syaniid shoved him hard in the back, and he began staggering forward in a decidedly more drunken manner than he actually felt. The Hutt laughed and commented about how she loved a good tragic romance as the crowd cleared out before them, and soon they moved through a staff door and into a compact gray hallway which was dreadfully empty and where the footsteps echoed.

The two that were escorting him were both powerful in build, one being the Kaleesh, a warlike tusked and bat-faced species which normally lived primitive lives in the distant regions of Wild Space, beyond even the Outer Rim. She was powerful and focused, mentally and physically, and he could feel the Force radiating from her like it did with particularly talented students at the Temple, but as often was the case, she saw nothing of particular value in Nerim. She walked to the right and slightly in front of him, eyes forward.

The other was a lithe Mirialan woman with her face half-tattooed, and he could feel her curiously staring at the back of his head. She seemed much weaker in the Force, and newer among the Syaniids, or at least less practiced in their mannerisms. She spoke, although Nerim did not recognize the language. "Who is this one?"

The Kaleesh shrugged.

"Where are his tattoos?" The Mirialan woman insisted.

The Kaleesh shook her head. "Who cares?"

The Mirialan woman grabbed Nerim's shoulder and turned him around, as he looked at her with a puzzled, uncomprehending expression. "Where are your tattoos?" She asked in Huttese.

Nerim had been told by Arwain that if and when he met another Mirialan in the stars, they would be very confused and likely somewhat upset at his bare face. Apparently it was considered a sign of deep untrustworthiness among 'his' people. One was supposed to use them to brag about their accomplishments and list their skills and affiliations. To go without tattoos implied some sort of drifter or outcast who was secretive and without honor. He shrugged. "What do you want from me? I was an orphan raised by rats and all I know how to do is fight. Like I said, there's nothing of note."

She glared at him suspiciously, and then tilted her head and turned to the Kaleesh, who was impatiently tapping her foot. The Mirialan spoke again in that language he didn't know. "Didn't the Mistress warn us that the Padawan of that Jedi woman might be a Mirialan?"

The Kaleesh stared at her, unimpressed. "Should I be suspicious of you, too?"

"There's something about him," she insisted.

"He's not strong with the Force. He's drunk and starts fights. He's romantically entangled with that girl, and she is strong in the Dark. I think it's safe to say he's not a Jedi."

She pursed her lips and looked him up and down. "I don't know. I just feel like he's a Jedi."

Nerim's eyes narrowed in recognition, and he pointed between the two of them. "You keep using that word. Jedi. You doing some sorta Jedi stuff here?"

The Kaleesh grabbed his shoulder with an impressive grip and swung his body forwards, marching him down the hallway. "Move."

The Mirialan woman frowned and sped up to walk on his other side, looking towards the Kaleesh. "I just think—"

"You think too much, Kiali," the Kaleesh cut her off. "You're paranoid. If you want to advance in the Force, you must conquer your fear, not heed it."

Kiali's frown deepened, but she dropped the matter. Not long after, they came to a rusty door that screeched a little as it opened, and the Kaleesh shoved him inside.

The room was a large round chamber with a beam of dim twilight filtering through a skylight, with a set of exercise equipment and training mats littered around the center. Along the right wall were prison cells fashioned out of repurposed animal cages, some empty, some with single occupants of a myriad of species. On the opposite wall, a reptilian alien of some species Nerim did not recognize with a large jaw and jowls hanging from his face along with large magnifying goggles over his eyes, turned to look at him from a table covered in datapads and small gadgets.

Nerim frowned. "Wait, am I employed, or a slave?"

"These are more fluid categories than you realize," the Kaleesh smirked. He was brought forward and to an open cage, where he was pushed towards the entrance.

That feeling of cold slime traveling up his viscera occurred, and he concentrated hard on not reacting. He had a bad feeling about this, but without that electricity, without that immediacy, he knew the Force wasn't telling him to resist. Only to prepare.

He stumbled into the cage, and the door behind him shuddered into place.

The locking mechanism was fully inaccessible, the latch having no way to be operated from the cage itself. The Kaleesh nodded to the reptilian alien at the desk, and he moved to a computer tucked away on the side of the desk and tapped on it. Nerim closed his eyes and drunkenly lulled to the side a little, resting on the bars while focusing on the sound of the buttons as they were pressed. The cage door shuddered as a bolt locked into place, apparently operated from the machine.

Satisfied that the cage was locked, the Kaleesh turned and began walking towards the exit, not offering an explanation as to what was happening. However, the Mirialan lingered a moment, staring at Nerim. Kiali's light pink eyes stared into Nerim's amber ones, and after a few seconds she spoke. "What's your name?"

Nerim blinked slowly and rested his forehead on the bars, staring back at her, his face half-obscured by the durasteel. "Lady, walk away. I think it's best if our paths don't meet."

Her brow furrowed in thought, but the Kaleesh reached the exit and as the door screeched open, she turned to shout in that unknown language, "Let's go!"

Kiali turned and left. Nerim took a moment to take a deep breath, and then sat down on the floor of his cage, letting the feeling of his head slowly spinning fade as he focused his internal energies and began to sober up. Before he could get too far, a familiar voice cut through the air in Basic.

"Great, we're both prisoners now."

He turned. The cage to his immediate right held a large musclebound Trandoshan with a prominent black eye, whose gaze flicked nervously between Nerim and the cage to his right, which held a scowling Human woman in a tattered red undershirt and trousers with her wrists cuffed together and strung up to the top of her cage. It was only the second time Nerim had seen Jianno without a scrap of armor on.

"So we have to rely on Arwain, now?" Jianno asked sarcastically.

"Oh, no, she was taken prisoner like three hours ago," Nerim replied.

"Fantastic."

Nerim let a moment of silence linger.

"I hate you two," Jianno continued. Then she took a deep breath, and groaned it out in frustration. "Sorry."

Nerim smiled.

"This place is crawling with Dark Jedi," Jianno growled. "Before you go blaming me, I didn't go looking for trouble. I was doing my mission. I didn't even get within a mile of the palace, they found me."

"I don't blame you," Nerim said. He was unsure if he actually believed her story or not, but he internally acknowledged that it wouldn't make any difference whether she was or wasn't. "These Syaniids are the real deal. At least, as far as Dark Jedi go."

"Yeah. They're organized," Jianno said, struggling against her handcuffs. "They have some sort of code language they speak to each other. As far as I can tell, no one's ever heard it before. Makes you wonder just how long they've been around."

"That explains it," Nerim sighed. "Well, what are we doing in here?"

Jianno huffed and pulled hard, lifting herself up. She wrapped her legs around the bars atop the cage to hang upside down, letting her arms rest from carrying her weight. "The Hutts use slaves for gladiatorial matches. Only, usually the bet isn't who will win. It's how long they'll stay alive."

"So we have to get out of here before—"

"Hey!" The shrill voice of the reptilian alien carried across the room as he gestured angrily at Jianno. "Get down from there!"

"Ne shab'rud'ni," Jianno growled, glaring at him as her short black hair hung down.

The reptilian slammed his hand down on a button, and a metallic humming noise emanated from Jianno's cage. A few sparks jumped from her handcuffs to her body or to the bars she was hanging on. She didn't react. The alien looked down at its shock remote, bewildered.

"So how do we break out?" Nerim asked.

"You got a plan?" Jianno grunted through the pain as the alien kept pressing the shock button, unsure if it was working.

"I'm missing some details," Nerim admitted. "But I've got it mostly worked out." He turned to the Trandoshan. "Do you have a plan?"

The Trandoshan raised his hands up defensively and shook his head vigorously. "Noo, mee, noo, noo," he said with a heavy accent, scooting to the back of his cage.

Jianno snorted. "Almost forgot he was there." She looked to Nerim. "So, what's your plan, shrimp?"

"Well, it's a little slapdash, but..." Nerim reached into his coat, pulled out his blaster pistol, and fired it at the alien behind the desk. The green bolt shot right through the alien's chest, and the reptilian looked down at the wound and then back up at Nerim in shock, and then fell off his seat.

Jianno stared in furious disbelief at Nerim, a vein in her forehead becoming quite prominent. "They didn't check you for god-damned weapons?" She choked out through grit teeth, her face turning bright red, though whether it was from anger, pain, or just because she was upside down, Nerim couldn't tell.

He smiled and shrugged. "It seems the Light Side is just as good at clouding the vision of Dark Siders as vice versa. Now I—" Nerim suddenly stopped, looking back towards the dead alien and noticing that the shock remote had fallen to the ground upside down, the button pinned down. He looked back to Jianno, seeing sparks flying from her body. "Oh my—I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! " Nerim apologized quickly as he reached his arm out of the cage and attempted to focus on the remote.

Still, he wasn't sure if Jianno even noticed the shocking. Her eyes slowly became bloodshot as she glared at him. "They didn't check you for weapons?!" She repeated, louder. "These are the shabuir that the Force produces?! I hate you!" She shouted, her cage shuddering from side to side with her struggling.

"Hold on—let me just—I'm sorry!" Nerim babbled, attempting and failing to recenter himself as he reached out with the Force. The remote slightly jiggled as his slippery grasp on the Force struggled to lift it.

The musclebound Trandoshan whined and curled up, resting his chin on his knees.
 
Hyenanon said:
"Breaking into my party? I should have a collar put on you. Or feed you to the Killiks!"

A Killik in the crowd—a decidedly sentient if inhuman bug species—gulped nervously.
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Poor bug people 🥺


Your characters are charming, and I forget that some of them are evil and don't deserve as much care for their survival. Like, say, guards in a Hutt prison where the prisoners are sent to die. Or Dark Jedi. Or a Hutt.

I wonder about Kiali though. Should I bet she makes it out alive and allied with our cast? Probably. She's a cute girl that seems to be curious and will probably escape her circumstances, kind of a tradition with Nerim. Poor Tetha will probably worry about that…
 
TroubleFait said:
Poor bug people 🥺


Your characters are charming, and I forget that some of them are evil and don't deserve as much care for their survival. Like, say, guards in a Hutt prison where the prisoners are sent to die. Or Dark Jedi. Or a Hutt.

I wonder about Kiali though. Should I bet she makes it out alive and allied with our cast? Probably. She's a cute girl that seems to be curious and will probably escape her circumstances, kind of a tradition with Nerim. Poor Tetha will probably worry about that…
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Nerim does have a surprisingly low body count, for a Star Wars story! Many of his fights he's been able to end nonlethally, and whenever he has killed someone, he's had to sprint away full speed immediately after instead of lingering over it. I mean, he has been trained to kill his entire life, but he's been surprisingly fortunate in circumstances letting him avoid rumination over it. So far, at least.
 
TroubleFait said:
Your characters are charming, and I forget that some of them are evil and don't deserve as much care for their survival. Like, say, guards in a Hutt prison where the prisoners are sent to die. Or Dark Jedi. Or a Hutt.
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Seconded. This Hutt is great. And I want her to have a great time and keep doing what she's doing. The fact that she's hurting people doesn't really matter to me.

I care more about how factions treat their own people (and those they claim to protect), than how they treat outsiders (as long as they don't give people false impressions that they are insiders when they aren't, anyways).
 
Chapter 60: To A Dark Place New
Chapter 60: To A Dark Place​


Once Nerim managed to flip the shock remote, he focused on the computer, and used the Force to tap the sequence of keys that opened his cage. The door slid to the side, and he quickly exited and rushed to the alien to search its body for keys.

He momentarily stopped, his hand hovering over the corpse, still warm with life. He could sense the gut flora and skin cells still performing metabolism in the body, though the brain had already almost entirely decayed. He pursed his lips and breathed out, trying not to smell the burnt ozone. No time to get squeamish, he reminded himself.

He found a code cylinder and rotated the control ring until it extended the small conductor that served as a key, and then took aim and tossed it across the room into Jianno's cage. He then stood and began tapping at the computer, and by the time he had found how to unlock her cage, Jianno had already freed herself from her bindings.

The entire time, the other cages howled with chatter and pleas and demands to let them out. He considered the situation, and decided he had to ignore them. They would immediately blow whatever cover the two of them had, and they needed every millisecond to make this work.

Jianno approached, and Nerim nodded to her. "Where's your gear?"

"Don't know. Probably put in Yenchara's personal vault. No getting it now," she said coarsely.

He balked. "You can't be serious...You're giving up on your arm—"

"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam," She said stoically. A warrior is more than her armor. "If we free my people, it's a trivial cost. We have to focus first and foremost on that."

Nerim took another breath—trying to avoid the smell—and nodded. "Okay. First step, disable their slave bombs. What's the plan?"

She looked down and lightly kicked the corpse of the reptilian alien. "Find this wormfood's counterpart. The only way to stop the bomb signal is to set up a strong jammer signal to block it out, and the jammer I brought is still on the Lucky Worm. It'd take most the night to lug it here. Skissa's quartermaster should have one, though."

"Right," Nerim nodded. "We'll have to be careful. If we get caught..."

"Yeah," Jianno sighed. "And the bombs will go off after an hour without a check in to his detonation remote regardless, so we'll need to exfil fast."

Nerim looked up and pointed towards where the wall and ceiling met, where a ventilation shaft was located. "This building is split down the middle, so their pit should be on the opposite side, no? Maybe the quartermaster is there."

Jianno looked at the vent for a second, and then shook her head. "No. It's not symmetrical, and their pit is too small to store all of Skissa's hardware anyways. But that's a good place to get started. Come on," she said, shoving a box towards the wall. The various prisoners continued shouting in escalating desperation or anger, but the room was soundproofed, so Nerim figured they were safe until someone wandered in. When that would be, though, he didn't know.

They climbed the box and then Jianno held out her hands together for Nerim to step on, and then pulled and tossed him upwards just enough to get his fingers on a ledge. He climbed up and found himself face to face with the vent. Closing his eyes and focusing, he felt the screws inside loosen, and then the panel fell off. By that time, Jianno had grabbed a cable from one of the archaic exercise machines and tossed it up to him, and he hoisted it for her to climb up.

It occurred to him that they were working quite well together, despite being unable to communicate their intents through the Force. He smiled as she clambered up into the cramped vent behind him. "I'm glad to get to work together with you for a change. Usually you're lone wolf, or off with Arwain."

"I wouldn't call what me and Arwain do 'working together'," Jianno scoffed.

"Still," Nerim laughed, crawling forward through the vent.

"How is she doing, by the way?" Jianno asked with uncharacteristic sincerity.

"When I last saw her, she was doing backflips for the Hutt. Now..." Nerim stopped, closed his eyes, and focused on...nothing. The Force around him was cloudy, stirred into turbulence. He frowned. "Hm. I cannot sense her." He tried to change his focus, but it didn't help. "Or Tetha. Or much of anything, actually..."

He had sort of lost track of Arwain after he lost sight of her, come to think of it. The only scraps of information he had gotten were of the people immediately around him. Perhaps this place was clouded more than he realized, or maybe his grasp on the Force still wasn't solid. Regardless, Jianno prodded his calf impatiently. "Alright, all the more reason to move quickly. And quietly."

The vents were circuitous and cramped, and though Jianno remembered the palace layout from her childhood to some extent, navigation was still difficult. They spent nearly half an hour scuttling around, scoping out rooms and finding dead ends, until they had mapped out everything they could. In many rooms, exit was not viable. The vents were too high up, too public, in rooms guarded with Mandalorians or mercenaries or cameras. From this segment, none actually lead to the room they were looking for, but after exiting into a pantry, a relatively quick run down a hallway with a prayer that it would remain empty was all that stood between them.

While they stood in the pantry, Nerim offered his blaster pistol to Jianno. "You're a better shot," he said.

She looked down at it, and slowly nodded. There was something rather intimate in her clan's culture about sharing your sidearm; rifles and weapons of utility like grenades and vehicles were to be freely distributed among whomever was the most capable at that particular moment, but a Mando's holdout weapon was for them alone, and only trusted to their closest family members. It wasn't lost on Nerim; that was what he was offering. She took the blaster gratefully, and then they moved down the hall swiftly and silently.

A rather imposing and musclebound Gamorrean stood at the door to the vault; a well-placed blaster shot to the skull dropped him before he even registered that intruders were approaching. Nerim quickly reached down to the Gamorrean's belt, ripped out his code cylinder, and placed it into the panel next to the armory door. The panel blinked green and then asked for a code to finish the unlocking process.

"Spast," Jianno cursed. "A code, now? The cylinder used to be enough. Spast, spast, what now...?" she grit her teeth.

Nerim looked at the panel, his hand hovering over it. He knew what he had to do. He had never done it before, but the longer he spent in exile from the Order, the more he let his old nature slip away, the easier powers seemed to flow from him. He still wasn't particularly strong, but he knew he could bypass the mental blocks he experienced, if only he had the will to do it.

He reached out. The Force around him was faltering and treacherous, and the waters he was wading out into were unfamiliar and cold, and unsettling things touched him as he lowered his guard and dived in. He fully let down his Force Immunity and allowed the currents to take him and the unseen slimy things hidden in those currents to bump up against him. There were creatures in these depths that he had not yet even conceived of. Not bad, he reminded himself. Scary, but not bad. Dangerous, but not bad.

He propelled his aura into the device, and felt the currents of the Force beginning to mingle with the currents of electricity, wrapping around the circuits and grasping the transistors. Arwain had told him the theory before. Success was already built into the machine; like all computers, it had a win-state, and it merely wanted him to jump through hoops to get to it. Like a pair of scissors cutting against time, he simply willed himself to skip that process, and land at the place where victory was already assured.

A long minute passed, and then another, and then suddenly his eyes opened and he gasped for breath, having realized again that he was holding it. The panel beeped in the affirmative, and the door rapidly slid open. He didn't have an instant to celebrate or even recognize his victory. He and Jianno rushed inside.

In the room, which was lined with various arms, armor, and gadgets trapped behind glowing walls of energy, there were two individuals. One was a wrinkly and blue-skinned Twi'lek man in what seemed to be his 70's, with spectacles balanced on his nose and a rather dignified and flowing outfit and much jewelry, sat behind a desk with his feet kicked up on its surface in clean boots. The other was a Mandalorian, a Nautolan man half-again Nerim's height, half-finished putting on his armor, yet to have been distributed a weapon.

In the same instant, Jianno leveled the gun at the Twi'lek, who himself raised up a remote and pointed it towards the Nautolan. The Twi'lek quartermaster's face was one of mild fear, pursed lips and widened eyes half-obscured by the glasses low on his nose, but controlled enough to show some sort of intent beyond incoherent terror. Jianno didn't pull the trigger, and the Twi'lek didn't press the button.

The Nautolan's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Little Grenna?" He asked in Mandalorian.

Nerim whipped his head around. Grenna?!

Jianno's face twitched, the myriad of emotions playing out in her soul instantly quashed with iron discipline. "Put down the remote."

The Twi'lek's eyes stayed locked to Jianno's. "Mr. Ji'tanii," he addressed the other Mandalorian, "Remember, this remote is not just keyed to you, but your wife and child as well. Think deeply on this matter before acting rashly."

The Nautolan, Ji'tanii, looked between the three of them, conflict playing out across his features. Somehow, Nerim could tell right away that this man was willing to die for Jianno. But he wasn't willing to sacrifice his family.

Jianno kept the gun leveled at the Twi'lek's head, and slowly stepped sideways to the corner of the room. "Put down the remote," she repeated, harsher.

"Mr. Ji'tanii..." The Twi'lek beckoned. Ji'tanii began to step forward, but Nerim stepped inbetween him and Jianno.

"Don't try it," Nerim warned him, adopting a martial stance. He spoke to the Twi'lek, keeping his eyes on Ji'tanii. "The only reason we haven't shot you yet is that the bombs would make the alarm go off. You blow him up, we have no reason not to kill you," he said, the lie of omission coming easily to him. "You blow him up, you die."

The Twi'lek took his other hand and slowly pushed his glasses up. "If I don't make you leave, you'll kill me. So it seems we're at an impasse."

"The way I see it, you have about one and a half ways out of this," Nerim reasoned. "If this Mandalorian can beat me and disarm her, then you get to live for sure. If I beat him, then we might let you live. If you blow him up, you definitely die. So why don't you give him a chance to beat me, and then work it out later?"

There was a short silence, as the individuals in the room considered their options. Except for Nerim, who had already decided. He examined his opponent. Ji'tanii had already donned a breastplate and the upper thigh guards, but had yet to put on gauntlets, boots, or shin guards, among other things. Hits to his body wouldn't work, but Nerim at least wasn't at risk of being squished with a crushgaunt, or fried with a flamethrower.

The Twi'lek made his choice. "You're definitely not letting me live either way. Ji'tanii, kill them. If you fail, I'm pressing the button."

Without a moment's delay, the Nautolan charged towards Nerim.

Nerim moved forward into his charge, cutting his foot low and attempting to kick out the Mandalorian's ankle. The Mandalorian swiftly changed stances, and they began a series of swings, attempted grapples, and kicks. Nerim wrapped his leg around the back of the Mandalorian's, pushing both his arms against the Mando's upper chest to trip him backwards hard. Ji'tanii caught on and clung onto Nerim, pulling him down into a rolling fall and sticking his other foot in Nerim's stomach. When Nerim rolled down with him, Ji'tanii pushed hard and let go, sending Nerim flying with the momentum into one of the energy walls.

Nerim landed against the field feet first and pushed off, rolling back towards his opponent with no wasted motion. Ji'tanii had begun getting up and moving towards Jianno, but Nerim used all his momentum and kicked hard at the back of Ji'tanii's knees, knocking his legs out from under him and causing him to fall back. Nerim skipped to a stop on the burning soles of his boots in front of him, placing himself beside Jianno, and returned back to his natural fighting stance, open-palmed and his legs wide and low to the ground. The Nautolan looked up to him with shock on his face, and recognition. "Jedi?!" He asked in bewildered Mando'a.

Nerim didn't respond, and kicked again, aiming for the Nautolan's head. He didn't even manage to catch his tentacles as Ji'tanii spun on the floor, a series of limbs lashing out in a well-practiced motion and intercepting Nerim's own.

It wasn't even quite clear when Ji'tanii had returned to a standing position, but a swift punch to Nerim's face sent his head snapping backwards and blood rushing down from his nose. Ji'tanii went in for the next strike, but in a sudden unexpected motion, Nerim spun with the momentum. His left heel was suddenly striking from the upper right, and slammed into the side of the Mandalorian's face. Ji'tanii tried to raise his guard, only for Nerim to grab his arm, throw both of them to the side, and then wrench the Mandalorian over his shoulders and send him sprawling out on the floor towards the far side of the room.

They both rose, Ji'tanii returning to his stance with heavy breathing and a baffled expression. Nerim slowly stood up, patting his knees and causing a small cloud of sand and dust to fall from him. He smiled and pointed to the Mandalorian, and spoke in Huttese. "You use hawk-bat form," he grinned, blood running down his face. "Old Mandalorian style. Very scary. To Jedi." His grin fell and was replaced with an expression of determination, and he planted his feet in the ground standing on his toes, and arranged his arms in front of him, fingers splayed and curled slightly inwards, in the form Aesha had taught him. "Not Cathar."

The Twi'lek risked a glance away from Jianno towards the Nautolan, a bead of sweat beginning to trail down his brow. "Ji'tanii," he warned.

Ji'tanii rushed forward and met Nerim with a flurry of blows, Nerim's clawing narrowly missing Ji'tanii's eyes, and Ji'tanii's crushing blows narrowly missing Nerim's jaw. The Mandalorian went for an uppercut and Nerim intercepted it, Ji'tanii followed it up with an attempted headbutt and Nerim leaned back and maintained balance by hooking a foot around his opponent's calf, and then jumped off his remaining foot. With one behind the Nautolan's calf and the other kicking into his knee, Nerim pushed and pulled with opposite legs, and the Mandalorian's knee cracked with an awful noise and he cried in pain, and both fell to the ground.

Nerim rolled back to his feet and kept his guard up just long enough to be sure that Ji'tanii couldn't stand back up—and the Nautolan did try, scrambling to his feet and then falling a few times. They caught each other's eyes, and Nerim winked with the eye that the Twi'lek couldn't see. Then, Nerim hopped forward and spun his whole body, whipping his foot around as fast as he possibly could, and his boot brushed the Mandalorian's head. Nerim shouted a loud kiai with the blow, masking the lack of a meaty thud one would expect from a solid hit.

Ji'tanii apparently caught the message, and fell to the floor like a corpse, limp and faking agonal breathing, as if the blow had landed perfectly and scrambled his brain on the spot.

Then Nerim turned to the Twi'lek, who Jianno was still holding at gunpoint, and crossed his arms. "Nice prize fighter. Now that you're down to two options, would you like to reconsider their differences?"

The Twi'lek looked between them, more than one bead of sweat dripping down his brow. Then he heaved a sigh and lowered his arm down, and slid the remote along the floor towards them. "Alright. I'm too old for this. You win. Kill me or don't, whatever."

Jianno gestured with her pistol, still not lowering it. "Turn off the containment fields."

"Sure, whatever, I'll give you a backrub if that makes you feel better," the quartermaster grumbled, standing up and tapping a long, arduous code into the panel on the wall. All of the fields went down, and the weapons and armor were now easily accessible.

Nerim let out a sigh of relief. "Now we—"

Jianno pulled the trigger and the Twi'lek fell with a green shriek of energy and the bubbling of flesh.

Nerim suddenly froze. His arms fell to his side along with his heart into his stomach, and his face paled. Suddenly something was deeply wrong—or, was it that he just remembered something? There were some sort of words being repeated from his memory, but his self didn't hear it. His lips were hot with the blood running down them. He stared at the body on the floor, and after a moment of ringing in his ears, he realized Jianno was trying to talk to him.

"Nerim? Nerim!" She snapped her fingers near his ear. She was on the other side of him now, moving towards Ji'tanii.

"He surrendered," Nerim replied dumbly.

"What?" Jianno tilted her head in confusion, helping Ji'tanii into a sitting position against the wall.

"He wasn't...I mean, you could have stunned him," he said meekly.

Jianno stared at him blankly for a moment, and then shook her head and shrugged. "Who cares? He's a slaver."

"I—I just think you could have stunned him is all."

"And he could have woken up and pressed the alarm—or worse, he could have—you killed the other quatermaster!" She raised her hands palms-up in frustration.

"Well, it's just, that one was in the process of enslaving me, but this guy had already..." Nerim's voice sounded weak and faltering, even to him. The words coming out of his mouth felt almost alien—or was it that he felt alien to himself? They were words, but he didn't know where they went, what they were getting at. But some part of him desperately wished he did know where they were going, and how to follow them there.

Ji'tanii groaned in pain and propped himself up. "Who is this?" He asked in Mandalorian

"Ugh, sorry. He's just a Jedi, it's how they are," she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not...I'm not a Jedi," he said quietly. Quietly enough that they didn't hear.

"Little Grenna," the Nautolan laughed despite the severity of his wounds. "By Ha'ran, I didn't think I'd ever get to see you again. I had hoped not!"

She grinned at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's so good to see you."

Nerim looked between them, and then to that awful corpse again, and had to look away. The words kept circling around in his head. He had surrendered. You can't kill someone after they surrender in good faith. You can't? Jedi can't. But he wasn't a Jedi; he wasn't bound to their use of force continuum. Or was it a religious law that applied to all? Was there even such a thing? Nobody was ever specific when teaching him this, because the only Force Users they ever considered during his studies were members of the Jedi Order. Everything was so muddled together in his head; were some rules just because that's what you had to do to be a good officer of the Republic, or to be a good person? Why didn't Fae or Arwain clarify any of this?!

"Nerim!" Jianno called out. Then she turned to Ji'tanii. "His name is Nerim, by the way."

"Thank you, Nerim," he said in Huttese.

"You're welcome," Nerim replied in Mando'a, his insides still crawling.

Ji'tanii blinked in surprise. "You know our tongue?"

"Uhh," Jianno averted her gaze, apparently embarrassed. "Look, we have to move quickly. I'm going to get a jammer set up. By nature, that'll block our call to the Saarkanians. You've gotta get them in on this plan, Nerim."

"Right," Nerim took a deep breath. "Right. Hold on," he said, fishing for the communicator in his pocket. He pulled it out, and opened the line. "Vseyav, are you there?"

Only a moment of static. "Yes," came the Saarkanian governor's voice. "Do you have the Dark Jedi?"

"Sort of. We're going to have to move the timeline up," Nerim said flatly. "The Dark Jedi are inside the Hutt palace. You're going to have to send in the strike team to extract the Mandalorians and the Dark Jedi at the same time."

"What?!" Vseyav shouted in outrage, his voice shrouded in static as the communicator normalized the volume. "Are you joking? This is not the plan! This is not the deal—"

"The deal's changed, Vseyav!" Nerim shouted back. He glanced to the corpse, and then glanced away again. "And we just—we just have to hope it doesn't change any more than this."

There was silence on Vseyav's end. No doubt he was considering if he could do anything about the situation. But Nerim knew it was out of the question. Backing down after all of these maneuvers would be political suicide for him. His voice came back across, icy and smooth. "Okay. What's the new plan?"

Nerim looked up and around at the room. It was encased in tenacidium, an alloy of durasteel that heavily resisted various energies, presumably to protect the equipment within—or the rest of the palace from an accident with the munitions. "We're going to get all of the Mandalorians into the safe room in the southwest quadrant of the palace, as planned. Then you're going to invade and extract us, as planned. Only difference is that there's gonna be a Dark Jedi with us."

"Okay. We can work with that. When is it happening?"

Nerim turned to Ji'tanii. "When's the best time to gather them up?"

Ji'tanii swallowed his pain. "Right when the feast begins, everyone's going to be shuffled around on guard duty, to follow the Hutts. Best time to make movements with some delays on the rest of security noticing. That's in..." He looked at the cracked chronometer on his wrist. "About fifteen minutes. Give or take."

Nerim took a deep breath, looked at his own timekeeper, and spoke into the communicator. "Forty minutes from now. 11:38 Standard Coruscant Time. On the dot. Not a moment earlier, you hear me?"

"Understood," Vseyav said coldly. "We will be precise."

"In a few minutes, we are going to set up a communications jammer. We'll be going dark when that happens. Good luck," Nerim said.

"You will need it more than me," Vseyav admitted with an audible shrug.

The room was then silent, and after a moment, Nerim turned to Jianno. "This is going to be tough. How are we gonna fight our way through this?"

Jianno met his eyes with resolve, and said two simple words.
 
Hyenanon said:
"He surrendered," Nerim replied dumbly.

"What?" Jianno tilted her head in confusion, helping Ji'tanii into a sitting position against the wall.

"He wasn't...I mean, you could have stunned him," he said meekly.
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Poor Nerim.

I get it, I really do. He held himself to the standards of the Jedi, thought in that way, and rescued his -friend? Acquaintance?- Only for her to violate those standards, rather brutally.

And, now, he has to understand what it means to him.
 
Nerim, with the power to alter the deal, but also in position to suffer most of the consequences if the deal falls through. I really like his brand of honesty.

Seriously, good job with his struggle with death. If he knew the quartermaster was going to die, would he have been able to negotiate as he did? Earnestly and charmingly? Being a good person is, imo, a big part of his identity and a big part of why he's so successful. If it gets ripped from him, what will he have left? It would do much more damage than his expulsion from the Order did.

And yet…
Hyenanon said:
There were creatures in these depths that he had not yet even conceived of. Not bad, he reminded himself. Scary, but not bad. Dangerous, but not bad.
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"Not good" is merely the other side of this coin. I wonder where this is all going…
 
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