A year after the destruction of the second Death Star in the celebrated Battle of Endor, another war was waged between the New Republic and Galactic Empire. Basking beneath the desert sun of Jakku rests the remnants of this hostility. Shifting sands have since buried and uncovered countless treasures and relics- to the delight of scavengers eager who hope to recover tokens from either side of the conflict!

The harsh desert offers little shelter from the elements, remaining barren and flat against the imposing backdrop of a fallen Star Destroyer that was left uncovered after the famed Battle of Jakku. Rather than allowing the vessel to fall into the hands of the Republic after the self-destruct had been sabotaged, Captain Ciena Ree ordered the Inflictor evacuated and sent it crashing to the planet’s surface. Sunken into the shifting desert sea, the upper portion of the Inflictor’s hull and exhaust ports remain otherwise intact, preserved amidst the rubble of untold casualties that had once occurred on both sides. Although it has been scoured by the passing of several sandstorms, it still displays the former power and might of the Galactic Empire.

Innumerous scraps of metal and machines of war share the same grave, echoing the lives of those who fought and died among the perilous wastes. Hundreds of these relics sit untouched, lingering amidst the ghosts that tend and reside in Jakku’s graveyard.

The sun blazed, casting a harsh glare upon the sand and the lone figure that trudged along the planet's surface. Grot paused as he crested yet another dune and lifted the visor to cast his gaze around the barren wasteland that surrounded him. He could see a massive structure rising above the planet's surface in the distance, a dark shape that towered over the surrounding dunes.

But why there? he wondered in his native tongue as he retrieved his datapad. The message he had received was a simple one: a request to meet his Battleteam Leader at a specific set of coordinates. It had been curiosity more than any sense of duty that had compelled him to come; why could she possibly want to meet him at such a remote location?

A quick glance at the datapad proved his suspicions. The wreckage of the Inflictor was his intended destination. He put the datapad away and activated his jetpack to cover the remaining distance.

The Trandoshan set down upon the dune nearest the fallen Star Destroyer to find that Lucine was waiting for him. She stood before one of the massive exhaust ports, her cloak wrapped tightly around her to protect her pale skin from the sun's glaring rays. As the jetpack heralded his arrival, she turned to offer him a brilliant smile. “I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up, darling,” she purred as she gestured for him to come closer.

But as Grot surveyed the scene, he felt a vague sense of unease. There was something wrong. “Why did you call me here?” he called down to her as he wrapped a clawed hand around the grip of his slugthrower pistol.

“I wished to speak with you privately,” Lucine replied.

“So? Speak,” the Trandoshan hissed.

The Sith waited for a moment, but when it became clear that he was not going to come closer, she rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “It is no secret that I have certain ambitions, darling. But in order to achieve my ends, I will need to the support of people who are exceedingly good at what they do.”

“And what's that to me?” Grot said as he examined his surroundings, searching for the source of his unease.

“Is it not obvious? You have already earned a name for yourself as a skilled and resourceful hunter. Such skills would be invaluable to me,” Lucine said as she studied him closely.

“Flattery and empty words,” the Trandoshan snorted.

“Mmm, and that is the problem, is it not? Some people can be swayed with words and pretty smiles, but you are far too smart for that. So I must let my actions speak for me, and find a way to earn your respect.” The Sith took a few steps neared toward him as she spoke.

“Hmm,” Grot's eyes narrowed as he realized what was wrong with the situation. There were no footprints in the sand to mark the redhead's passage. Even as she moved closer to him, the sand behind her remained flat. Feigning impatience, he glanced at the Scan Pulse on his wrist as if he was checking a chrono. Sure enough, the woman in front of him did not appear on the screen, but it did register a life-form from within the shadows of the exhaust port. He allowed himself a toothy grin. “I don't think you can,” he replied, addressing the illusion.

Lucine's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. “Humor me. What would it take to earn your respect?”

“A show of strength. You'd have to prove to me that you're worthy of being respected,” Grot said.

“So if I were to, say, defeat you in single combat, would that be enough?” the Sith asked.

Gradually the pieces began to fall into place. The isolated setting, the illusion; it all fit. Lucine had already anticipated what his response would be and had planned accordingly. “Yes,” he hissed. “But as I said, you'll fail. I'm not so easily fooled by words and tricks.”

“And yet, I feel I must try,” Lucine said. “So? Shall we duel?”

The Trandoshan gave an offhand shrug. “Why not? You might be a weak soft-skin, but you might be worth some points.” He drew the slugthrower pistol. “When do we begin?”

The Human gave him a mischievous smile. “We have already begun, darling.”

“Good,” Grot replied, as he aimed his weapon at the exhaust port and pulled the trigger. The illusion in front of him abruptly vanished.

Within the ship, the Force screamed a warning as the slug flew toward her. As she darted out of the way, she was unable to suppress a smile. The game was on.

“It will take more than mere sorcery to defeat me, Captain!” Grot shouted, and idly reloaded his revolver. With a cocksure grin, he flicked the cylinder back into the gun and reactivated his scan-pulse.

NO LIFEFORMS DETECTED

Grot frowned and furrowed his brow, Is she out of range? No, impossible, a malfunction? It was working only a few seconds… Ah. Mere sorcery indeed. He shook his head and snarled in annoyance, looking around he shouted, “Hide if you must! Flee! You have only delayed me my prize! The hunt shall claim you, in the end.”

The mercenary holstered his pistol and looked over to the exhaust port where Lucine had been hiding. She was gone now, but a trail of footprints in the dust quickly betrayed her location. She was moving further into the wreck. With a savage grin, the Trandoshan unslung his rifle and stalked out into the ruin to find his prey.

Lucine listened from inside the rusted hulk, Grot’s voice echoing into the dusty interior. The icy cold embrace of the Force cloaking her as she concentrated on hiding. She would be undetectable so long as she held still, giving her time to prepare.

He is right you know, she thought to herself, Primitive as the concept might be, there is only one way this can end. Power against power, strength against strength, and to the victor goes the spoils. Alone with her thoughts, her inner monologue only became more biting and contemptuous, “Only a fool would place themselves in such a struggle. A fool like Grot. A fool like you. Why go through the effort of proving yourself to this simpleton? This whole affair is vanity, pure and simple— “

Lucine shook her head violently, causing her cloak to shimmer the movement. Now is not the time for doubt. I cannot lead without the utter loyalty of my subordinates. I will never obtain his respect with poisonous lies and empty compliments. If I have to crush Grot beneath my heel to earn his service, then so be it! She took a deep breath, calming herself, and steeling her mind for the fight ahead. She could already hear her subordinate approaching, his heavy armor clanking against the durasteel as he entered the wreckage.

I just need a plan…

Grot paced carefully through the wreckage of the Inflictor, his eyes scanning slowly back and forth. Whatever magic the redhead had used to hide, she could not eliminate everything, her footprints in the sand stood testament to that. She had fled from the exhaust port and deeper into the wreckage. No doubt she wanted to limit the use of his jetpack; a clever strategy. Sand turned to rusted steel as the mercenary entered the cavernous wreck, the echoes distorting every noise and the footprints growing harder to track. He snarled, feeling increasingly uneasy as he trudged farther into the star destroyers rotting corpse.

“Amazing, is it not?” he heard Lucine call. Her voice was low and casual, but it echoed unnaturally across the wreck, seeming to come from all around. Grot stopped slowly scanned the interior, keeping an eye on the shadows. “The ship, that is, immense, powerful, yet brought low and left to rot by a handful of rebels.”

“Reveal yourself, witch!” The Trandoshan hissed in annoyance, “I tire of these games! No more illusions!” A quiet chuckle was his only response, before the Sith continued, unperturbed.

“Tell me, Grot, how is it that something so awe-inspiring can be brought to such a state?”

“I do not dwell on such things,” The mercenary grunted dismissively. He narrowed his eyes, trying to hone in on Lucine’s position. He couldn’t allow her preening to distract him.

“Ah, but Grot, there is so much to learn. In this, as in all things, we see the way of nature. The Empire became arrogant, self-assured in its own supremacy and certain on the defeat of its enemies.” Beneath her Force cloak, the Sith felt her heart pound away in her chest. Maintaining the cloak and the illusion at the same time was beginning to stretch her powers to their limit, but she had a suspicion would need to go even further if she was to succeed.

“It grew weak, and in its pride, allowed it’s enemy to grow strong. The hunter stumbles…” A splitting headache began to grow as Lucine carefully concentrated the Force into her legs, tensing the muscles, strengthening them for a sudden leap. Slowly, she felt her concentration start to slip, and the icy cold of the Force cloak begin to slide off like a slimy wet blanket.

Grot had only a second of warning, a minute shimmer in the air, a distortion of the light —

“...and becomes prey!” Lucine’s lightsaber flared to life, filling the wreck with a bright green glow. She exploded out from her hiding spot behind Grot, her enhanced muscles closing the distance in a blink. The mercenary desperately tried to duck out of the way, his jetpack flaring to life, but he could see that would never carry him far enough.

With a desperate swing, the Trandoshan flung his rifle at the redhead, the rifle’s heavy metal was instantly vaporized by the lightsaber, but the shower of sparks and flaming debris fouled her attack. The deadly blade collided harmlessly with the Durasteel floor, carving a deep gash into the metal. The Sith cursed inwardly but wasted no time putting her blade back up into a guard. A hail of deadly slugs erupted from Grot’s pistol as he hastily drew it and opened fire, the bullets slamming into Lucine’s prepared saber and leaving puffs of vaporized metal in their wake.

His pistol only carries five bullets! Lucine thought, glad to have done her research on her subordinate. She pressed ahead, determined to get back into striking range, but with a flare of his jetpack, Grot rocketed away from her, back and up towards the rusted ceiling. With practiced a practiced motion, he unlatched the sonic imploder from his belt, thumbing the activation switch and sending it tumbling back the way he came. The grenade landed a few meters away from the redhead, it’s detonator rapidly ticking down as Lucine gave an incredulous glare.

And he mocks me for dirty tricks!

Lucine twisted awkwardly to turn away from the grenade as it clattered to the floor in front of her. It detonated a moment later with a deafening boom that set her ears ringing. Though she had managed to turn away to avoid seeing the blast, the sound alone was enough to send her headache to agonizing and disorienting heights.

Keep moving! Got to keep moving!

She stumbled forward, taking shelter behind a pile of twisted and ruined metal. She reached out a hand to steady herself as she forced herself to think despite the screaming headache. Over. He will use his jetpack and come over the debris pile. Still has his slugthrower but I still have my lightsaber. Got to get him on the ground, he is less likely to use a grenade if he is grounded.

She took a deep breath and held her lightsaber at the ready as she looked up toward the top of the debris pile, waiting for the inevitable attack. As she did so, her eyes fell upon a yawning hole in the ceiling, the twisted durasteel plates bent at unusual angles. Thoughtfully, she picked up a piece of debris as an idea began to take shape in her mind.

---

Grot allowed himself a razor-sharp smile as he reloaded his slugthrower. The prey was now wounded and on the run. The hunt was a good as over. Yet the Trandoshan could not help but feel disappointed at the outcome; he had expected more from Lucine. Her showing today had been pathetic, little more than a serious of cheap ploys and tricks. Weak, just as I suspected, he thought contemptuously. I will finish this quickly and move on to find worthier prey.

With a quick burst of speed, he crested the top of the debris pile. Lucine stood looking up at him with her lightsaber held at the ready in a one-handed stance. Though she was pale, her eyes were narrowed in a look of intense concentration. Not wanting to give the witch a chance to do whatever it was she was planning, he fired three slugs at her in rapid succession. The emerald blade moved, destroying the projectiles before they could reach her. Grot growled in frustration even as his hand twitched toward one of the remaining grenades on his belt.

“I see you like to play with explosives, darling,” the Sith called up to him as she brought her right hand up. Though her fingers were wrapped tightly the object, he could see that it was round and palm-sized, much like the grenade he had been reaching for. “Have a taste of your own medicine!” she said, lobbing the item in her hand toward him.

As it flew toward him, Grot acted by instinct, throttling the jetpack to give him a burst of speed as he flew up and backward. As he moved, his eyes focused on the projectile. The weak illusion fell away at the slightest scrutiny to reveal that it was little more than a small piece of debris.

Hah! Another tri—

His thoughts were cut off as he struck one of the durasteel plates in the ceiling, causing the jetpack to explode.Grot screamed as it exploded, shrapnel from the blast piercing his shoulder even as fire seared him. He fell, landing heavily atop the pile of debris before rolling down to the ground.

Blackness lined the edge of his vision as unconsciousness threatened to overtake him. The sound of footsteps nearby caused him to turn his head to see Lucine moving slowly toward him, her lightsaber still ignited.

“You mean to kill me?” he hissed quietly as he bared his teeth at her.

The Sith offered him a small, exhausted smile, though her eyes remained icy. “Of course not, darling. I have far too many plans for you.”

The sonic imploder erupted into an ear-shattering wall of sound that made Lucine scream in pain. White spots flashed in her vision as she staggered backward, ears ringing like dinner bells. In her head she ran through every curse she knew to describe her opponent.

On the far side of the wreckage, Grot skidded to a stop and hastily reached into his belt-pouch for a new clip of ammo. With a practiced ease nurtured by years of experience in the field, he slammed the speedloader into place and tossed it away. The cylinder locked as he brought the pistol back up towards his opponent, determined not to give her a moment’s rest.

The Sith felt her heart sink and a cold chill fall over her shoulders as the Force heralded her imminent demise. Drawing strength from her pain and anger, she sank into a defensive stance with the sort of ease only a master could accomplish. The slugs flew rapid-fire through the air as she drew up her blade and prepared to fend off the Trandoshan’s assault. Puffs of hot, vaporized metal exploded from her saber in bright flashes of fire as she deflected one shot after another, her blade cutting through the air like a whirlwind around its master. But her hands began to slow, her blade work grew sloppy. She was growing tired, still disoriented from the grenade. Her sabre began to slow.

It fell still as a slug slammed into her gut.

Lucine choked down a scream as pain shot through her body like a wildfire, and she dropped to her knees with a wet, sickening cough. The Sith deactivated her lightsaber and reached down to clutch at her wound. The wet, scarlet patch of blood was rapidly growing, staining the front of her robes and running down her leg.

“You want to earn my respect?” Grot’s voice echoed across the room, his boots clanking against the metal as he walked closer. His voice was mocking, a predatory smile playing over his lips as he gloated, “It will be quite difficult to earn it on your knees.”

Pain dominated her every sensation, humiliation staining her every thought as her voice refused to obey her. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she could hardly move. Force, it hurts!

Pain is merely another path to Power

She clenched her fists in defiance, remembering her teachings. She would not fall here, she would not submit now. She had plans, and no one would stand in her way. Least of all a lizard barely out of the primordial ooze!

In her mind pain morphed slowly to rage, and rage with time to power. Power to harness the Force, to bend it to her will. Power to mend her wounds. Slowly, the blood began to clot, and the skin and flesh began to knit itself together beneath her cloak.

Above her, Grot continued to gloat. He slowly reloaded his pistol, bullet by bullet, and hissed, “I’d advise you to surrender now, Captain,” he spoke her title with such mocking contempt, “ I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable back on the Voidbreaker. I have taken many points from you this day. The hunt is mine.”

“The hunt is yours, Grot, but the battle is not over.” Lucine spoke suddenly, staggering her way up to her feet. Her wound was not fully healed, but the bleeding was slowed enough for what she required. She reached into her cloak, pulling her lightsaber back out and holding it at her side. Grot raised his pistol cautiously, watching her every movement for treachery.

With a heave, Lucine threw her saber into the darkness of the wreckage.

Spreading her arms wide, she spoke, “No more tricks. No more weapons.” Her voice echoed through the air, thick and heavy with the power of the Force “Lay down your weapons, and we shall fight, at last, as equals. You will obey me Grot, or else I cannot lead!”

“Strike me down, and you shall lead Voidbreaker in my place.”

Her voice died away, silence filling the air as Grot stood dumbfounded. He felt an ambition and a drive that he didn’t know stir deep inside him. A sudden calling fill him to the brim with desire to Yes, yes indeed, he would be the new Master of the Hunt!

With a heavy clang, Grot’s jetpack fell down to the durasteel below. He holstered his pistol with a quiet chuckle and flashed his sharpened teeth in a greedy smile. “Very well, captain.”

The Trandoshan rolled up onto the balls of his feet, pulling his elbows in close as he approached the Sith, fists raised. Lucine lowered herself down, slipping fluidly into her stance and raising her palms up. Grot tested her defenses, throwing a few quick jabs which were deftly deflected and avoided. The redhead used the mercenary’s considerable bulk and power against him. The two continued to trade light jabs and counter strikes, but Grot was slowly pushing back Lucine.

She was well aware that he only needed a single strike in her condition. She needed to bide her time. To strike only when perfectly sure of victory, and destroy him.

Suddenly, Grot pivoted on his left foot and threw up the other for a kick. Lucine flowed underneath the strike like water, but a sharp pain in her stomach shot through her like lightning as her wound split back open. She winced in pain and choked back a scream, trying to focus on the fight, but her momentary distraction was enough for Grot.

Landing back into his stance Grot brought up a knee directly into Lucine’s chin, putting his massive weight behind the strike. Lucine tried to roll with the blow, but felt the impact rattle through her skull, her teeth cracking together audibly. Black spots danced in her eyes as she stumbled backward.

Grot launched himself forward, planting his shoulder directly into Lucine's stomach and slamming her into the far wall. Lucine bounced and landed on the durasteel floor with a dull, limp thud. Grinning savagely, the Trandoshan reached down and grabbed her by her fiery red hair, pulling the Sith up so he could look her in the eyes. Lucine stared back, fighting the pain to glare hatefully at the mercenary.

“Submit now, soft-skin. I will be merci—”

A sharp hiss cut through his gloating, a bright flash of green light filling the room and the smell of burning flesh singing his nostrils.

Lucine fell to the ground, lightsaber in hand, and Grot’s newly severed arm landed beside. The Trandoshan could only stumble back, his nervous system rapidly descending into shock from the sudden trauma.

“You… the saber… how?” He glanced over into the corner of the room where Lucine had thrown her lightsaber.

“An illusion” Lucine grunted from the floor “Much like your victory.”

“Never touch my hair again.”