The Godless Matron is home to many, resembling a micro-society for those who wish to live outside the typical rule of the galaxy. The Lucrehulk-class battleship's massive hangers have been converted into dwellings as a result. Chute Town is the most notable of these makeshift towns. Many shops and storefronts have been constructed to take advantage of the higher volume of foot traffic. In addition, many ships and crews arrive into Chute Town to sell their "well-earned" commodities, weapons, or artifacts. It is commonplace to find the best and the worst gear the galaxy has to offer, it is only a matter of how big your pocketbook is. The streets are patrolled regularly by the crew of the Matron itself, leaving would-be miscreants to be more wary, lest they find themselves on the receiving end of a pirate's sense of justice.

It is built mostly out of spare durasteel panels from derelict ships, dismantled machinery, or any other source or material the pirates could scavenge. It spans the length of the massive portside hangar of the Matron, reaching from its heavily protected reactor — hidden behind triple-reinforced blast doors and a guard retinue — all the way to the hangar entrance where the many incoming ships unload their cargo. It is more than a mile long, over five hundred feet wide and up to three stories tall, covering most of the floor. Chute Town's streets are a miniature maze, weaving in between buildings on several levels. Verticality is key for the masses of shops and bars to operate without interfering with one another. The main street is nicknamed Murder alley, mostly because all the weapon shops are prominently opened there.

Illumination banks are staggered along the walkways and buildings to provide enough light for the society to function. Still, the streets are left dim with a low hanging fog built up from the collective humidity of so many people in one space. For those calling it their home, there is no such thing as off hours. A large crowd bustles along at all hours, an exotic assortment of individuals from countless planets and the warring gangs that divvy up the territory within. It's the perfect place for those looking to disappear in the crowd.

The small, unassuming bar gave off an atmosphere of lower society and an anticipated odor that usually came with such establishments. The tender droid, rusty and busted in all the places it had received flying bottles, swept a dirty rag across the counter for the umpteenth time, likely following some faulty subroutine of its programming. The patrons, while clearly shady individuals, all seemed docile and uninterested in the hooded redhead sitting in a private booth next the back door and far enough away from prying eyes. She eyed their movements and noted the positions of their weapons, just in case.

Lucine wrinkled her nose as the aroma of the establishment pricked at her senses, making her feel only slightly more sick than when she was outside in Chute Town. The bar was the usual meeting place with one of her contacts from Arx: a lower-ranked Inquisitorius agent with a strong sense of self-interest. She had arrived on time, as agreed. He was, however, uncharacteristically late.

She crossed one leg over the other somewhat impatiently, probably for the tenth time, before the front door slid open to reveal a familiar face. The Kiffar was inconspicuous enough, fitting in with the crowds of the Matron with ease, but he wore an expression that gave Lucine pause. He was afraid.

The agent sat opposite her without wasting a heartbeat and produced a small data chip from his pocket. The sweat on his brow trailed down his nose as his eyes rushed to meet her own, then immediately to the closing door.

“Badan, darling,” Lucine started with the usual sweet tone. “This is most irregular. You do not summon me, I summon you—”

“There was no choice,” he interrupted, most rudely. His tone was hasty and nervous, and the only reason Lucine let the interruption slide was to see what had him so spooked. “This intel. It’s...dangerous. I want nothing to do with it.” He slid off the cushioned bench and stood up to leave. “Do with it what you want with it and don’t contact me any time soon.”

Before Lucine could even reply, the Kiffar was well on his way out of the bar’s back door. Hastily, she produced a datapad and slid the chip inside. Badan’s apprehension must have rubbed off on her, as she felt perspiration forming just above her sculpted eyebrows. The screen flashed twice before disgorging some of the encrypted data. Lucine’s eyes widened right as the door opened once more. Nerves on edge, the redhead turned her head towards the newcomer.

A Human, average in height and build, dressed in commoner clothing and a long trench coat, walked in with an inquisitive eye on his surroundings. Lucine winced as she noticed the telltale glitter of chromium from the SE-44C blaster at his hip, one used by the fabled Royal Guard of Arx. As inconspicuously as she could, Lucine rose up and inched towards the same door Badan had walked through moments earlier.

“Miss.” The tone was decisive, yet enquiring, but the accent was unmistakable. He was from Arx. “A moment of your time.” The man drew attention from the patrons as he walked towards her.

“Apologies, darling. I am in a bit of a rush,” she said as she balled up her fist around the blinding dust on the back of her belt. He reached inside his coat and produced a Vibro-arbir blade, as if all the signs so far weren't enough to confirm Lucine’s suspicions.

“I’m afraid I must insist.” The Guardsman was within arms reach when Lucine threw out her hand and a cloud of particles filled his eyes. He gasped audibly, recoiling and raising his weapon in defense just as the doors opened to let the redhead escape.

Lucine rushed through the side street into a larger crowd, her legs pushed by the Force to speed her onwards. The distraction would not last, she knew, and aimed to open the gap as much as she could. Reaching into her pocket as she saw the Guardsman again, following too closely for comfort, she pulled a handful of credit chits and tossed them into the crowd. It was enough to hear the clatter of chits against the durasteel floor for the disheveled beggars to start crawling one over another, reaching for the valuable prizes.

It had the desired effect. Seconds and several zig-zags later, she could no longer see her pursuer following her. The Guardsman would find her, eventually, so the Arconan pulled out the datapad once more to memorize as much of the intel as she could in as short a time as she could.

It mentioned sensitive information about the Dark Council, a turncoat High Inquisitor named Yoi Rosa, and private information about the Deputy Grand Master herself. Who is Avaleen? Lucine thought with a puzzled look before her attention shifted to a new feeling. Abruptly, she felt cold, even in the warm depths of Chute Town, as if icy air surrounded her. The Force suddenly felt distant, unnaturally so. It made her spine shiver with apprehension. In spite of the gut-churning sensation, the redhead’s focus shifted to a new presence, one she had not clearly felt before, not through the dense and lively crowd.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me, girl,” said the voice, velvety but commanding. Lucine felt an invasion into her mind, like needles pricking at her consciousness. Aggressive and powerful, she was barely able to stave it off with the will she could muster. Morgan Sorenn walked out of a shady alcove, dressed in black trousers and a bomber jacket. What her expression lacked in amusement, it more than made up for in grim resolve. “The datapad, if you please.”

It was not a request.

Lucine gave the datapad a look before turning to the Deputy Grand Master once more. The presence in her mind was lessening the more she pushed against it, giving her a new impetus to rebel. The information in her hands was invaluable. To have a Deputy Grand Master in the palm of her hand? Priceless. She weighed her options and the risk for mere moments.

It was all the time that she was given.

Morgan’s blue eyes narrowed as Lucine continued to hesitate. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, girl. I said give me the datapad. Now!”

The Sith suppressed a shudder as the presence asserted itself more forcefully in her mind. Though she fought against the compulsion, Morgan’s will was stronger. The struggle within her psyche was made visible by Lucine’s movements as she slowly crossed the space between them with halting, jerky footsteps. When she drew near enough, she extended a single, shaking hand to offer the datapad to the Adept. Much to her relief, the intruding presence in her mind receded as soon as the datapad left her grasp.

“There now, was that so hard?” Morgan asked with a smirk. Now that she had the chip, her posture relaxed slightly. No doubt she is confident. Perhaps overconfident? Lucine considered as she warily observed the Adept.

“Difficult? No. Humiliating? Yes. Really, darling, you could have simply asked nicely. Have you not heard the adage regarding honey and vinegar?” the redhead replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the other woman’s intimidating presence, coupled with the unnerving distance she felt from the Force.

“And you expect me to believe you would have simply returned the chip without a fight?” Morgan shot back, the cocksure smirk never leaving her face as the datapad disappeared into a hidden pocket within her jacket.

“I am self interested, not suicidal. There is no way I could win a fight against you, especially not here,” Lucine replied with a noncommittal shrug. The sad fact was that she was not prepared to take Morgan on in single combat. Better to show throat for now, escape with what little she knew, and pick the trail back up at a later date. “Now, since you have gotten what you came for, I had best be going. I have an afternoon appointment that I really should not miss,” she said as she took a step back.

“Not so fast. We’re not done yet,” the Adept replied.

Damn! Lucine paused in midstep. “No?”

“No. There’s still the small matter of what you know,” Morgan said, taking a step forward to close the distance between them. “You and I are going to spend a little time together until I am satisfied that you didn’t read anything important.”

Damn, damn, damn! Lucine knew from personal experience that there were a number of very unpleasant methods to make a person forget inconvenient information. The last thing she wanted was Morgan poking around in her mind.

“Well, I have always wanted to secure an audience with you,” Lucine said with a charming smile, stalling for time as she hastily, she tried to recall the details of her surroundings. They stood on a narrow, debris riddled street which was nearly devoid of foot traffic. Morgan was blocking the way back to Murder Alley. She vaguely recalled a few sidestreets branching off of the road behind her. So, she could either try going through Morgan, or away from her.

“Well, then it’s your lucky d—” Morgan abruptly cut herself off as the Force suddenly screamed a warning. Instinctively, she manifested the Force into a corona of energy between herself and the redhead, even as Lucine snatched her lightsaber from her belt. The translucent shield flickered into existence even as the emerald lightsaber flared to life.

But Lucine did not even try to attack. Instead, she turned on her heel and darted up the street.

“Why do they always try to run?” the Adept wondered aloud as she waved a hand, causing the translucent shield and the suppressing energy to vanish. Almost lazily she extended one hand, sending bolts of red energy arcing after the redhead.

Every hair on Lucine’s body stood up and every nerve pricked in her mind as she felt an overwhelming sense of danger. She twisted backwards as best she could, attempting to block or divert the incoming torrent of energy with her blade, but far too late. The lightning struck the extended hilt and carried through. Pain and spasms coursed through her extended arm and her torso. These weren’t new sensations for the Arconan, but they were, somehow, much more potent.

The power of the attack sent her tumbling to the ground, and as the spasms subsided, lasting mere moments before the lightning ceased, Lucine counted her blessings. Standing up from the garbage heap she had landed on, she felt her left arm go limp and numb as every other muscle in her body ached with dull, lasting pain. She had barely noticed her lightsaber clattering to the durasteel deck with her vision spinning and ears buzzing as they were. Her legs nearly gave way as she limped around the corner into the small alley, headed towards one of the more populated streets. Sounds of footsteps, slow but somehow threatening, followed behind her. Morgan’s palm extended out at her side as the Arconan’s green hilt landed gently in it.

“Stop,” the Deputy called out after Lucine with a sigh. “There’s nowhere to go,” she added hoping the girl would just give in. Sorenn felt no enjoyment in chasing the woman down. She had stopped torturing people for fun far before she had ever met the unfortunate redhead. But, she had no qualms about killing Vasano to protect what she considered most dear to her.

As she slowly recovered, Lucine’s pace became quicker. She could hide in the crowd, she thought, perhaps even escape the ship before Morgan’s men found her. She could, she would escape, she told herself as she finally reached the end of the alley and merged with the rabble on the main street. Looking back, she saw Morgan standing at the edge of the alley, as if reluctant to follow her into the street. Something kept her at bay. As clarity returned and focus shifted, so did the questions. Was the former captain now a pariah? Was she unwelcome on the Matron now? A jab of pain in her left arm quieted her thoughts as feeling finally returned.

Lucine moved as fast as her body allowed, in between the masses of unfortunate people inhabiting Chute Town. Her vision was still hazy, but the Force’s soothing influence slowly returned clarity. Her movements quickened and hope returned as her path lead her down a familiar street, towards the main hangar — and escape.

The path to her ship’s hangar lead down a narrower street in between shacks several stories tall. Lucine pulled her hood over her head as she checked her surroundings, hoping not to draw too much attention. Only beggars and addicts lined the edges of the street, cuddled into nooks and crannies, out of sight and out of mind, but Lucine took in every one of them with ease, her paranoia at an all-time high.

As she reached the end of the street, footsteps in front of her caught her attention as the conspicuous visage of Morgan’s Royal Guardsman emerged from behind a shanty wall. The Arconan’s eyes widened as she took a step back, the path to her ship well and truly blocked. The ache in her muscles returned as she felt the familiar coldness around her. She still felt the Force, but only enough to understand her situation. Lucine turned to face her true opponent once more.

“How…” she muttered under breath.

“How did I find you?” Morgan’s expression betrayed no triumph or anger. She was perfectly content in her calm demeanor. “I know this ship.” A matter of fact statement, followed by a shrug. “Now, tell me what I want to know and this will be over.”

The Deputy and her Guardsman moved towards her in unison as Lucine inched away, her back to the nearest wall. She hit the wall surface with a rumble of metal plates.

“Darling, please. I already gave you what you wanted, I have nothing left,” Lucine lied through honeyed words. Morgan’s expression never changed as she pulled her blaster from its place on her hip.

“We’ve played this game long enough, I think. Think about what you’ll say next very, very carefully.” As the barrel of the blaster found its resting place on Lucine’s forehead, the redhead stared into the Deputy’s eyes looking for any sign of a bluff. Panic gripped her as she found none. This woman would kill her, without remorse or second thought. Bravado gave way to survival instinct as Lucine gave in.

“O-Only something about some Inquisitor, Yoi Rosa, and a few other things about you. I swear. I had no time to read more, you found me just as I was reading.” Lucine’s teeth ground against each other as she hoped that would satisfy the woman.

“Oh, is that all?” Morgan asked, her expression unchanged. Her finger pulled on the trigger slowly, deliberately so.

“Alright, alright. I also read about something called Avaleen.” For the first time, Morgan’s eyes widened, piquing Lucine’s interest. Avaleen. Was it something important?

“Goodbye,” Morgan said simply and pulled the trigger before Lucine could even react. A blue ring of energy shot into the Arconan’s face, slamming her head into the metal-plated wall. She collapsed like a sack of Bantha feed.

Morgan holstered her blaster and, without looking at him, gave her Guardsman an order, “Take her to my ship. I want to interrogate her more thoroughly.” With a nod, he took the stunned Arconan into his arms and marched towards their hangar.

Morgan’s eye twitched as she cursed her own blunder for letting the information escape in the first place. She would have killed Lucine but for the strained relationship with Arcona. Even as a House leader, she was prominent enough to draw attention if she went missing. Morgan sighed in acceptance, unable to change what had happened, and followed the Guardsman towards the hangar.

Lucine had only moved a few steps before Morgan’s cloud of energy dispersed, allowing the Sith’s connection to the Force to be restored. With it came a screamed warning of imminent danger.

She whirled in time to see energy arcing toward her. She moved to bring her lightsaber up in a defensive position, but it was as if she was trying to move through molasses. She fell into an imperfect stance even as the lightning reached her. Some of the tendrils of energy struck the emerald plasma blade with a crackle, accompanied by the smell of ozone, but most caressed the hand that clutched her weapon.

Electric, fiery pain shot up the nerve pathways of her arm and traveled through her body, causing all of her muscles to seize in a single agonized convulsion. The jolt vanished after a few seconds, leaving the Sith weak both from the pain that had overwhelmed her senses and from exhaustion. She sank to her knees, and her lightsaber clattered to the garbage strewn ground.

“That’s more like it,” Morgan said as she surveyed her fallen foe with a satisfied smirk. “Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Lucine narrowed her eyes at the Elder’s smug tone, but did not immediately reply. Instead, she focused on the rage and humiliation that burned within her. She drew upon it, forcing herself to get slowly to her feet despite her protesting muscles.

“No,” she replied, in a resolute tone. She once again sank into a defensive stance, the lightsaber blade wavering visibly from the effort to hold it aloft.

“You can't be serious,” Morgan said as she stared at the Sith in disbelief. “Come on, see sense. You are outmatched in every possible way. You can barely even stand!”

“I assure you, I am in deadly earnest,” the redhead replied grimly. “If you think I will simply submit and let you rummage through my mind, you are quite mistaken.”

The Elder heaved a sigh of annoyance as she drew her own lightsaber from her belt. “You want to play with lightsabers? Fine. I have a few minutes.”

The Adept’s weapon flared to life as she darted forward to close with her opponent. Morgan brought the plasma blade down in a sweeping arc. The Sith brought her own up to block, and sparks flew as their blades clashed. Nimbly, Morgan darted back and to the side as she swung her lightsaber in a wide arc again. Lucine parried, keeping her movements tight and controlled.

Time seemed to slow for the two combatants. Morgan utilized as much of the alley as the tight confines would allow, maneuvering around the garbage receptacles while trying to draw Lucine into attacking with feints and taunts. Given her present exhausted state, a single foolish move would be enough for Morgan to prevail.

But the redhead refused to be goaded. Though the Adept left increasingly wider and more obvious openings, Lucine refused to take the bait. She defended herself with careful blocks and deflections, but did not initiate an attack.

“What, do you think you are going to outlast me? I’ve got news for you, girl, I could do this all day,” the Adept said, though her scowl made her growing irritation apparent. Though Morgan was in no way tired, she was growing bored with probing the Sith’s defense in the tight confines of the alley. “C’mon! Try your luck!”

A small smile flickered across Lucine’s face, but she did not give a verbal response. Her skin glowed with a fine sheen of sweat, physical evidence of the effort she was expending to maintain her defense.

Morgan stifled a sigh of exasperation. This is ridiculous. There’s no way—

SPLAT

Morgan’s thoughts were abruptly cut short when something moist and foul-smelling impacted against the back of her head. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder, but there was no one there.

The Force shrilled a warning as the Sith suddenly leapt forward in a lunge. The Adept’s attention snapped back to her opponent, and she parried the Sith’s blade upward. Lucine countered with a remise aimed at Morgan’s throat.

Sparks fell like rain as the two women exchanged rapid-fire blows. But Lucine could not keep up the pace and fell back into defense, breathing heavily.

Morgan took advantage of the opportunity to touch the back of her head with her free hand. It came away covered in a thick, brown, mud-like substance that did not smell like mud. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she shrieked in outrage.

Lucine only smirked in response. She kept her sword at the ready even as she made a gesture with her free hand. Out of the corner of her eye, the Adept saw more of the mud-like substance lift slowly into the air, before launching toward her. The Adept growled softly and drew upon the Force. The brown paste impacted against an invisible wall of energy.

“You want to throw things, schutta?” she snarled. “Fine. We’ll play catch.”

She crooked a finger, sending one of the nearby waste receptacle hurtling toward the redhead. Lucine cut easily through the first one, sending garbage flying in all direction. But the second one caught her in the stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. The third cracked against her head, causing her to crumble to the ground.

Morgan allowed herself to smirk, even as she looked for something to scrub off her hand. “This would have been so much easier if you’d been sensible,” she said with a tsk. “Stubborn girl.”