The Godless Matron was once a Trade Federation battleship, crewed by countless droid workers. Since then, many sections of the ship have fallen into disrepair due to the sheer amount of manpower involved in its maintenance. As a result, parts of the central sphere of the Lucrehulk-class battleship has been left to the ravages of time and the scars of the Clone War itself.

The crew has come to refer to this section of the Matron as The Gauntlet, largely due to the danger it represents. Located in the lower regions of the command sphere, it is a crosshatched network of ruined and damaged hallways, repair bays, and even crew quarters. While most power has been shut off to this section — save for critical systems such as life support — the systems and circuitry still require occasional maintenance in order to keep the entire framework operational. Such tech runs have become a matter of betting amongst the crew, earning it the nickname: running the gauntlet.

A heavy layer of dust sits mostly undisturbed along the debris of the halls, save for the footprints of the few crew that have tread the path before. These previously walked paths are a safety net for those who venture into The Gauntlet unknowingly. It is also thought that the remaining Separatist forces staged a last ditch defense within this area of the ship, and did so by any means necessary. Many traps, ranging from explosives to spring-loaded mechanisms, are littered throughout the untraveled pathways — or even still undisturbed within the known sections. Further still, malfunctioning B1 droids and even semi-active Spy Drones remain, ready to ambush the unsuspecting observer and adding to the dangers of the dark, debris filled tomb The Gauntlet has become.

The day had been going too well, decided Bleu. His little foray to the Matron to make a few illicit purchases had gone well enough, even finding a few presents for Zujenia. Then he’d foolishly stopped in at the Sinning Den, the ‘establishment’ being run by one of Arcona’s elders, Sildrin. She’d had some of her girls plying him with drinks, caresses and scritches for reasons he wasn’t certain of, but he’d found himself quite comfortable. The Ryn knew well that she had her games, and saw no reason to not let her try to grease the wheels a bit, right up until her girls got him into a back room and a sense of foreboding came upon him through the Force.

They’d managed to disrobe him almost entirely before a curtain was pulled back, exposing the back half of the chamber. It was likely the women had thought him drunk enough to control at that point, coaxing him towards the chair covered in straps and restraints. He’d had enough wits about himself to release a blinding flash of Force conjured light, grab a bottle of whiskey and one of the knucklers from his jacket and dive through a nearby maintenance hatch. Scant seconds later the door to the room was opened by an angry, red-haired woman with a blazing green lightsaber.

Now he found himself in the underbelly of the old ship which had fallen into disrepair, picking his way through debris-strewn corridors. He should have known the Captain of the Voidbreaker would have had one of her crew, Sildrin, on the lookout for him. She was probably still miffed over their last encounter, where one of his Skitters droids had stolen a lock of her hair. Ahead of him, one of the very same droids was scouting ahead. He’d been both relieved and a little surprised when the droid had followed him down here, considering the perversions that had started showing up in the programming of the Skitters line. Still, it was proving useful as a scout, even if it couldn’t communicate verbally. He hung back and let it lead, hoping to find a way back up to the hangars and his ship, or a shuttle off this boat.

It was after stepping through a half-open hatch, the door’s servos grinding back and forth as it tried to either open or close, that he started to feel concerned. It was cold, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering the corridors avoiding mechanical mishaps and old, broken down droid troopers. Kordath lifted the bottle he had in hand, squinting against the emergency lighting to gauge its fullness.

“Bout a third gone,” he grunted, “been down here maybe forty minutes then. Gotta be far enough away from Chute Town by now ta go above ground. Find a bleedin’ cloak or somethin’.”

He was about to call out to his droid to start looking for an exit, when it checked a cross path, scuttling around the corner. There was silence for a long stretch of moments before a shrill scream of binary was heard. The ID9 droid came back into view, flying backward and slamming into the bulkhead with a thud and sliding to the deck. It picked itself up unsteadily, body wobbling atop the pincer arms it used as legs and started to retreat towards its master. He’d heard no mechanical trap spring, no sounds of a B1, which meant…

“Oooooh Kooooordaaaath!”

She almost sounded bleeding cheerful. A green glow could be seen coming from the side passage now, as the Sith woman approached. Kordath cursed to himself; he should have figured she’d find her way down here.

Probably used her wiles on some poor bloke ta guide her down. Hope tha’ bastard is still alive so I can punch him later.

His Skitters unit scrambled past him, heading towards the half-open door down the hall, and he turned to follow. The little droid probably had the right of it; he had a bottle of whiskey and a brass knuckler, not exactly the weapons one used to fight off a crazed woman with a lightsaber. The seeker droid made it through the hatch, with Kordath seconds behind him, before a screech of protesting servos could be heard and the door slid shut. He glanced at the door’s control panel. It was dark from lack of power and the humming of the lightsaber was growing more intense behind him. With a deep breath, the Ryn put on his best smile and turned, hands out to the side to look nonthreatening.

“Lucine! Oi! How ya doin’ luv? Been an age since I seen ya. What ya doin’ on tha Matron, lass, checkin’ in on Sildrin?”

“Kordath, darling! I’m fantastic, though not a fan of our current surroundings. And I’m on this trash heap because of you of course. I had a conversation with your man, Strong.”

Her tone, while pleasant, suggested unpleasant things. He wondered briefly how she did that so well. Her interacting with his hulking Chiss bodyguard without him around wasn’t good either, the big idiot was a little too honest for his own good.

“Oh, aye? Bet you two get on well, all, uh, cultured and tha like.” He shifted, growing colder the longer he stood still.

“Yes, well, he told me something very interesting,” she spoke, stepping a pace towards him, saber rising to point at him. It was quite the image to the Ryn, the fiery hair that looked a little too perfect for the maintenance area, the menacing smile, the cock of her hips. Under other circumstances, he’d have said something truly foolish.

“Did he compliment ya on yer, eh, form?” he asked, unable to help the appraising leer from coming out. Bleu winced when he saw her off hand twitch and felt himself suddenly lifted from his feet and hurled back into the closed hatch. His head rang, shaking it off as he saw stars. “Fair ‘nuff,” he managed to croak.

“He told me,” she hissed, “that your little voyeur droids record what they see!”

“Well, o’ course they record, luv, would be a pretty piss-poor security measure if all they did was transmit.”

The Proconsul tried to pull himself to his feet, only to glance up and find a jagged metal strut hovering before his face. Close enough that his eyes began to cross, he tried to focus instead on Lucine.

“Okay, so, uh, what would ya like me ta do about that?”

“First, purge any recordings to do with me. Second,” she seemed to pause as if she hadn’t considered this far. “Hmm, second, give me access to the rest of your database.”

“Luv…” he began, before the object threatening him abruptly spun, smacking the side of his head and sending him back to the deck. There was warmth and dampness after the blow; he was pretty sure he was bleeding now. “Alright, Lucine ya can—” it hit him again, causing him to grunt and cover his head with his arms.

“No excuses, no worming your way out of things this time, darling. I’ll have access, and be left alone by your droids, one way or another.”

She sounded serious. He weighed his options, wondering if he could somehow throw her off balance and get down the hall without her impaling him with a chunk of metal. His mind raced as he looked up at her flushed features. She was mad, but also getting an adrenaline rush off of this. There were no witnesses down here, no one she had to play the reasonable and cultured noble too. She might just bloody kill him. He tried to think of what to say; giving her access would get his hide quite literally stripped from him by the Shadow Lady. His subconscious threw up a name that had come up in recordings of Lucine speaking to herself, an idea to maybe calm her down.

“Now, come on, Sunny, luv, let’s hash this out, eh?”

From the way she went still and the widening of her green eyes, nearly glowing in the reflection of her lightsaber, he decided his subconscious was a treacherous bastard.

Hearing the Ryn use her old nickname in such an off-handed way was like a slap in the face. Lucine froze, staring in wide-eyed shock as an old memory rose to the surface. A man picking her up and hugging her tightly, having just given her the worst news one could possibly tell a child. “It will be okay, Sunny,” he had promised. It had been one of the last times her father had called her that; one of the last times she could remember feeling safe and protected.

But that was a remnant of an old life, one that belonged to a different person. She closed her eyes tightly, forcing herself back to the present. “How did you learn that name?” she asked in a deadly quiet voice.

Kordath, who had been taking advantage of her momentary inattention to scoot away, froze at the tone of her voice. “Eheh, well, it's just somethin' I heard,” he said hesitantly.

Lucine took a deep breath as she pointed the emerald blade at the Proconsul's throat. “Only three people know that name. The first is far too high and mighty to even consider talking to a Ryn. The second is dead. And the third one,” her voice dropped into an icy hiss, “will be in a minute if he does not tell me where he learned that name.”

Never seen the lass this karked off. She might well do it, Kordath realized. He drew upon the Force, focusing it upon his left hand, which was behind his back. If he told her he had heard it during a few of the Skitters recordings, she really would kill him; a half-truth would be better. “No, uh, luv, don't be doin' anythin' ya might regret, yeah? I just, uh, happened to hear ya call yerself that once or twice when ya thought no one was around.”

The Sith's eyes narrowed as she studied him closely, searching his face for any indication that he was lying. “Funny, that, seeing as how I only call myself that in my apartment when I am alone.”

Oh, Sithspit. Her body tensed as she prepared to stab her lightsaber into his throat. He brought his hands up, ostensibly to shield himself, and as he did so a blinding flash of light erupted from his left hand. Lucine shrieked as the light seared her eyes, instinctively taking a step back. Kordath's tail whipped out as she did so, wrapping around her ankle and sending her sprawling. The lightsaber’s blade retracted as it bounced out of her hand, clattering across the floor before disappearing down a ventilation shaft.

“I will murder you!” the Sith shrilled as she scrubbed the tears from his eyes. But Kordath was not about to wait for that to happen. Scrambling to his feet, he took off down the hall in a run.

He dived through an open hatch, heedless of what lay beyond, before turning to look back. The redhead was already stumbling to her feet. The panel next to him was dark, so he grabbed the door, trying to pull it shut, but the heavy durasteel did not budge.

Lucine blinked her eyes, trying to see past the black spots that danced within her field of vision. She just barely saw the Ryn dive through a hatch and begin desperately trying to shut it behind him.

“Not so fast,” she growled. She made a sweeping motion with her hand, hurling several small pieces of jagged debris after him with all of the force her rage could muster. Most of the twisted shards of metal clattered harmlessly against the door frame, though one managed to tear through the fur and flesh at Kordath’s side. His yelp of pain told him that at least one of her projectiles hit her mark, drawing a smile from the Sith.

Lucine took off in a run after him, the heels of her boots ringing loudly off of the walls. She drew near enough to see him on the other side of the hatch, his hand outstretched and a look of intense concentration on his face. With a scream of protesting hydraulics, the hatch began to slide shut.

Lucine skidded to a stop just in front of the door before slamming her fist into the metal in frustration. Pain shot through her hand as metal refused to yield to flesh and bone, causing her to give a cry of pain. She winced as she drew back her wounded hand, before drawing on her rage. An icy numbness began to slowly spread through her hand.

As she waited, her thoughts whirled as she considered all of the unpleasant things she was going to do to the Ryn when she got her hands on him. She would make him bleed. She would make him suffer.

”You've got to make them believe you're one of them, Sunny. Play by their rules and get them to accept you.”

Her father's voice echoed in her mind, causing her to freeze in place. Another old memory. It was enough to force her to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to quiet her raging thoughts. Though her temper still burned in the pit of her stomach, she gave the appearance of having an icy calm. After all, a lady does not stalk around growling like some feral beast.

Absently, she touched her hair to make sure it was still perfect as she considered the situation. The Ryn was unarmed, nearly naked and on the run. He would not get far. But he was wily, and she needed to keep her wits about her if she wanted to deal with him properly.

---

Kordath tore through The Matron at a dead run. He knew that he should be paying attention to his surroundings, but he was more interested in putting distance between himself and the karked off redhead that was intent on ending his life.

It was that inattention that saved his life when he tripped over a heavy piece of debris. His momentum sent him tumbling across the dusty floor just as a bolt of energy passed overhead. The B1 droid that had fired it stepped out of cover as it aimed its weapon at him.

“And just when I thought this doshin' day could'na get any worse,” the Ryn muttered as he scampered into cover behind a control panel. He could hear the clanking of the droid as it moved to get into a better firing position, but a grinding sound that accompanied its every step told him that there was something wrong with it.

Taking a deep breath, the Proconsul willed the Force to strengthen his fatigued muscles before darting for the door he had come through. He heard the droid fire its weapon, could almost feel the bolts that seared into the floor behind him as he moved faster than the droid had calculated. The narrow hallway provided little cover, so he quickly dived around the first corner he encountered. He wove a zig-zagging path through the maze-like hallways of The Matron and was beginning to think he was in the clear when he turned yet another corner to find the Sith woman at the end of the hall She held a blaster in hand and had a look of surprise on her face. Before he could skid to a halt and change directions, his foot depressed a pressure plate which had been obscured by the thick dust.

Aw, kark.

Not my day, not my bloody day at all.

Behind him was the ominous sound of the B1 droid clanking through the hall, an occasional ‘Roger, Roger’ drifting to his ears. Before him was the curvaceous, karked off redhead with a blaster. And then there was the ground below him, which, he was trying not to think too hard on, or what it might do to him should he try and move. Or if it had a timer or fuse mechanism, which meant he was inadvertently playing the waiting game. Lucine was watching him, green eyes narrowed as she started to pick her way down the hall, stalking forward with purpose.

Kordath lifted his hands as if in surrender, sighing as he tried to work out what to do about the booby trap. He saw her gaze flicker to his open palms, and her glare deepened. He winced as a red blaster bolt hit the bulkhead to his left.

“Warnin’ shots, really?”

“I wanted to dissuade you from flashing me again.”

“I...you...heh,” he muttered. From the look on her face, the implied joke hadn’t been intended, nor was she finding it amusing. “Fair ‘nough, uhh— oh, Sithspit.”

The Force screamed at him as the B1’s metal feet crossed through the hatch behind him, prompting him to crouch in place, covering his head. Tail tucked in, he heard several shots from both directions of the hall, the narrow space amplifying the sound. The clank of falling metal told him who’d won, as well as the presence of a still-warm blaster barrel pressing through his mess of white hair.

“Uh, by tha way, luv, ran inta a droid on tha way here.”

“You don’t say?” Her tone was acid. He tried to rise, but the blaster was pushed down with greater firmness. “No, no, you don’t need to move, darling. You’re quite good where you are.”

The Proconsul took a breath, letting his mind’s eye wander as she began a monologue about how she felt about him, his droids, and their antics. He was sure some of it was even charming, but he was busy feeling the nearness of life energies besides her own. Not far from them was an overwhelming amount of people.

Chute Town? Tha market? I get that far, I can lose meself in tha crowd. Find a bloody cloak or some clothes, do some light pickpocketin’ and get tha kark off this death ball o’ a ship. How do I get away from her though?

He winced as she pulled the blaster away and swatted him across the top of the skull with it.

“I’m sorry, dear, are you listening?”

“Yer mad and disappointed?” he guessed, going off conversations he’d had with ladies most of his life.

“Oh, murderously so. And I don’t believe you’re going to give me what I want.”

The Ryn risked lifting his head at this comment, allowing his eyes to trail up her shapely form to her green eyes, framed by crimson hair. It was moving ever so slightly from the air circulating from a vent in the ceiling. He had to admit, he wished he’d let her wrap him around her finger more back on Selen. If Zuji hadn’t come into his life, the redhead would have been on the top of his list for more intimate interactions.

“What was it ya wanted again?” he asked, stalling for time. He needed a bloody miracle.

---

The ID9 droid scuttled through the ventilation system in annoyance, or as close to annoyance as its mechanical brain could manage. None of the Matron’s old ducts made sense anymore, twisted metal and dead ends abound. It had been tracking sounds echoing through shafts and down halls, trying to find its Master. Also, its unique programming made finding the scarlet-headed terror that was trying to eliminate its Master a prime objective. The droid was well aware of its owner's preferences and proclivities, after all.

It had the confidence of sensors and predatory algorithms as it closed in on the sound of a Human female monologuing. With light steps it stalked down the ventilation shaft as the voice grew louder, dome-like body crouching low, until it reached a vent. The metal iris brought the tracker droid’s photoreceptor to a small, red dot as it peered down.

Success. Target located. Master located and in imminent danger. Unsurprising scenario.

Pincers moved deftly, with mechanical certainty and precision, to pull the vent cover up into the narrow shaft, setting it down by millimeters to avoid alerting the woman below. The Skitters unit positioned itself over the hole, pincer arms holding it just above, and waited for an opportunity.

---

“What I want is to be left to my own devices without your droids infringing on my privacy, Ryn.”

“Well, luv, they’re a part o’ Clan security these days, can nae make promises there. I mean, is ya tryin’ ta hide somethin’?”

“I can’t very well perform my duties with your mechanical monsters looking over my shoulder, or wherever else they decide to focus on, all the time. Now, get up. I believe I saw a working airlock down one of these halls. It would be nice not to have to drag your blaster-riddled corpse all the way there myself.”

“Oh, come on, Lucine, luv, sweetheart, this is nae tha way ta deal with this,” he said, looking up at her with his gray eyes wide and doe-like

“Oh, no, you do not get to try the sad-Ryn eyes on me, no,” she hissed, gesturing with the blaster for him to stand.

He rose slowly, hands held at his sides, before giving her a lopsided grin. “Uh, problem.” Bleu lifted a foot and tapped the plate below him lightly, loud enough to hear the hollow sound before putting it back down. Despite the chill of the wrecked corridor, he was sweating at this point. “Do nae know what’ll happen if ya have me move, yeah?”

She stared at him, and he could almost feel her mind working over the problem. She’d have to save him from the trap to get the revenge she wanted; or, she could leave him there to rot. Except leaving him there meant the possibility of him getting away unharmed. Lucine hissed and gestured with her off hand, dragging a blown-out console from the side of the hall until it rested on the plate with Kordath. Gingerly, one foot at a time, he stepped off, eyes closed and wincing as he waited for an explosion, or fire, or an electrical current, something. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall when nothing happened, only to open his eyes and find the blaster in his face once more.

“Aww, come on, luv, ya just saved me life, is that nae worth somethin’?”

“No.” Her voice was flat, lacking any of the disarming charm she usually employed. It was obvious she was tired of their little game. “Now then, come along, Bleu. You have a date with space.”

It was at this moment the world seemed to accelerate for the two Arconans. Kordath decided to take his chances, reaching for her blaster and pushing the gunarm to the side with his left hand. His right formed a knife-edged palm, hitting the inside of her elbow with all the strength he could muster. It was with elation that he listened to the Westar hit the deck below them, and a groan of worry when her other hand produced a vibrodagger, swiping at him.

“Where tha hell are ya even hidin’ things like that?! Sure didn’t mess up tha lines of yer dress,” he managed to quip as he danced back from the strike. His tail swatted at the blaster on the ground, sending it spinning away into a pile of wreckage. She held the dagger with both hands, stabbing and slashing at him awkwardly.

Praise tha gods fer small miracles.

She tried to cut him again and he pushed the strike to the side, trying to use her momentum to toss her over his knee as he did so. She tumbled with the fall, coming up in a crouch and glaring murderously at him.

“Figured ya’d be a better dancer than this, luv,” he said with a smirk, already backing down the corridor. He could feel life in that direction; if he could just find a route, he could double, bloody well triple his chances of survival. Appearances mattered to the woman trying to kill him, after all, and her reputation would suffer if all of the Matron saw her acting like a crazed murder.

“Oh, I know the steps,” she hissed, arm cocking back and throwing the dagger at him. He almost laughed, until he saw the trajectory change midflight, scoring across his side when he tried to twist away. Bleu clutched at the seeping wound, feeling warmth travel down his torso.

“Ow,” he managed as she walked towards him, her hips swaying dangerously. They’d tangled before, and he knew those sensuous movements meant real trouble. It came quick, the open handed strikes seeking his throat, wrist and arm joints as he tried to fend her off one-handed. He felt a solid surface at his back after he ducked under a strike, trying to put some distance between them and get her off balance. His biotech implant started to clot the wound in his side, but it still bled as he moved about. A glance back brought the blown-out console to his attention, and he sighed, having trapped himself in his attempt to buy time.

Lucine smirked coldly as her palm sought his throat. If she collapsed it and eliminated his ability to breath, fine, she’d drag him to an airlock and dispose of the evidence herself. So focused was she on her murderous intent that the warning from the Force came too late as she stepped in closer. A shrill cry of Binary came from above, and the Skitters unit dropped from the empty vent and onto her head. She yelled as the pincers grasped at her hair to gain stability, all while trying to trip the Ryn, who had decided now was a lovely time to flee. The droid on her head clinging painfully to her mane of red hair seemed to whistle in apology, before its buried pincers found her scalp.

The built-in electro-shock prods delivered their charge, causing her to scream and seize as the droid’s owner fled down the hall. Her body collapsed and curled in on itself, tears already starting to form at the corner of her eyes. She felt like she was on fire, and growled incoherently when the droid tried to smooth her hair back down before scuttling away down the hall after its Master.

She swore this to herself from her place, groaning on the floor as she watched the pair flee: she would catch the Ryn, and his little droid, eventually. And they would pay.

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Kordath continued toward the redhead at a run, feeling the pressure plate shift upward as he lifted his foot to take another step. One step became two. At the third step, he saw Lucine lift her blaster toward him, her arm moving in slow motion. As he took a fourth step, the hallway behind him ignited in an orange-white glow.

Boom!

The Ryn screamed as he felt fire sear into the flesh, even as the force of the blast lifted him off his feet and sent him flying down the hall toward the Sith. Stars exploded in front of his eyes as he landed heavily on the floor, followed shortly by a staccato of dull thuds as he was pelted by shrapnel.

Lucine, too, had been knocked backward by the explosion, sending her blaster flying. Instinctively, she brought her hands up to protect her face as twisted shards of metal flew toward her. When the rain of debris finally ceased, she risked looking at the damage. Her outfit had been torn in some places, but other than a few bruises and cuts, she appeared to be okay.

“Ugh. That is another set of clothing you have ruined, Ryn,” she said with disgust as she looked at the Proconsul. But Kordath lay unmoving, even as the skin on his back smoldered.

“No! You cannot die yet!” the Sith gasped as she snatched off her cloak and used it to beat at the flames. “Not until you have given me access to your database!”

When the flash of the flames were extinguished, Lucine studied the fallen Ryn. Much of his back was blackened. She could see angry red sinew between the cracks of ruined flesh, sluggishly oozing blood. A jagged piece of metal protruded from his left shoulder, allowing more blood to flow freely.

Hesitantly, she reached out and lay her fingers along the side of his neck, imitating an action she had seen medics perform. She did not know what she was supposed to be feeling for, but presumed that a pulsing sensation beneath her fingers was a good thing. Kordath groaned a moment later, further assuring her that he was alive.

“Fabulous. Now what am I going to do with you?” the Sith said in disgust, though she doubted that Kordath could hear her. Before she could carry on any more of the one-sided conversation, a flurry of blaster bolts sped from the far end of the hallway.The first three burned into the metal floor, but the final one seared into her right arm, drawing a hiss of pain.

Lucine darted into cover behind a nearby corner, before risking a look. The light of the dying fires and the thin haze of smoke made it difficult to see, but she could just make out the form of a B1 droid shambling toward her. It leveled its weapon on Kordath, but the Ryn showed no sign of movement. With one threat apparently neutralized, it angled itself toward Lucine.

The Sith cursed inwardly as she scanned the area, searching for her missing blaster. She cursed again when she finally found it, lying on the opposite side of the T-intersection. I could simply leave, she thought, but quickly decided against it. Kordath was still useful to her. She would not leave him, not yet anyway.

Lucine took one step away from the hallway, before extending her hand toward the blaster. She gritted her teeth against the pain from her wound and forced herself to concentrate. The weapon shuddered for a few moments as she struggled to maintain her focus, but it finally lifted off of the ground and flew toward her, as if thrown by invisible hands. The droid opened fire once more at the movement, but the blaster bolts impacted harmlessly against the wall.

With her weapon in hand, Lucine leaned out just far enough to snap off a shot at the B1 unit. The blaster bolt went wide, and she ducked back into cover while cursing under her breath. But she had noted, in the brief glimpse she had caught of the droid, that it’s head appeared to be darting back and forth to look at either end of the T-intersection.

Perhaps there is something wrong with its photoreceptors? she wondered. She could hear the heavy thudding of the droid’s approaching foot. Trying to ignore the pain in her wounded arm, she snatched up a piece of debris and threw it across the intersection. The B1 unit fired at the rubble. As soon as the sound of shooting ceased, Lucine drew a bead on the droid and squeezed the trigger. Her bolt ricocheted off the droids head near its photoreceptor, causing sparks to fly from damaged circuits. The B1 unit stumbled back, and she shot it twice more, aiming for its torso. The droid toppled teetered, before toppling backward with a loud crash.

With a heavy sigh, Lucine slid down the wall. “I am not made for combat. You had best be grateful that you are still useful to me,” she muttered at the Ryn’s prone form.

She studied him for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. Of course, it would be easier to simply leave the Ryn. But she had worked so hard to track him through the bowels of the Godless Matron, and she hated the idea of all that effort coming to nothing. There was nothing for it. She would have to drag his roasted body out of there, preferably before any more droids showed up.

To do that, she would need to be whole. Lucine closed her eyes, drawing upon her frustration and her anger, using it to channel the Force. As the minutes ticked by, she felt an icy numbing sensation spread slowly through the burn on her arm, until she could no longer feel the pain.

When she at last opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that Kordath was moving. He had managed to crawl a few feet away from his original position. As the Sith watched in amusement, the Ryn struggled to move forward inch by agonizing inch, his face set in a mask of pain and determination.

“So the rat tries to flee,” she said as she got to her feet and adjusted the setting of her blaster. “I doubt you will be getting very far in that condition, darling.”

Kordath did not deign to answer. Smiling coldly, Lucine crossed the distance between them until she was standing over him. She leveled the weapon at the back of his head and squeezed the trigger. The Proconsul’s body was bathed in rings of blue energy, and he stilled once more.

“I need you alive, but this would be far easier if you were not conscious,” the Sith told the Ryn. “But do not worry. I know of a medic who might be able to patch you up, and perhaps even make a few additions.”

After all, how often did the opportunity arise to place a control chip in someone in the upper Summit? She suspected that Kordath would be more willing to listen to her arguments regarding his droids’ invasion of privacy after the procedure was complete.