Erected along the banks of the Solleu River and the Virdugo Plunge of Naboo, the refinery complex is a model of Neo-Classical design and exacts an efficient but elegant form. Large sandstone-like blocks are sheltered by a ribbed roof and inlaid with a high-tensile durasteel support webbing. The stone construction boasts rigid, durable design and is lined with blast-proof green plates so the the roof is defended against bombardment.

The Plasma Refinery Complex is a triple-domed structure and located alongside the city's main hangar. Within the first of the three domed structures closest to the hangar lies the seemingly bottomless extracting shaft: a hemispherical chamber with black paneled walls that constantly monitors and compensates for pressure changes. The shaft is crisscrossed by several concentric rings of catwalks. A series of twelve, evenly-spaced acceleration shafts extend from the bottom of the pit to disappear into the ceiling. A thermal carbon membrane contains the plasma that is forced out of the core and upward through vacuum suction.

The city’s power generator rests on the other side of the acceleration shaft and is located under the ground floor of the first domed building. Above it, the facility's main activator and purification chamber sits below a corridor of laser gates. The corridor, comprising of several doors that lock into position and hold back potentially dangerous quantities of power outputs, leads into the generator’s core.

Another massive shaft plummets into the heart of the reactor at the center of the generator’s core and is surrounded by a circular catwalk that extends to the walls of the smaller, cylindrical building. Along the sides of the shaft, high-energy particle coils are employed when excessive plasma slough needs to be curtailed.

The central building is, in fact, a drum-shaped holding tank of refined plasma. Mass amounts of energy is gathered below the re-circulation lid at the top of the tank, this reduces the oxygen levels in the chamber in order to preserve the vacuum maintained in the tank.

The Vornskr was close to the edge of the catwalk. Its emblazoned eyes were locked onto its Jedi prey as blue blades twitched with an eagerness to dance. It charged but was intercepted by a burst of energy that caused the beast to whimper as the surge struck and carried it over the edge and into the bottomless pit of the refinery’s core.

The Miraluka stood motionless, and his head twisted to the side as the Force allowed him to tap into his true sight.

“Not today, Deeva.” His gravelly voice broke the silence and a sharp whistle of dismissal followed. The beast snarled as it backed away and ran towards the ramp of the Celestial Sorrow, Kratus Karada’s home away from home.

Draca watched in anticipation as the Vornskr was removed from the tense situation he was presented with. He had been told to meet with refinery officials. To flex his diplomatic muscle for the greater good of the Taldryan Republic. To secure an arrangement that would be beneficial to the cause of both parties. Yet, there he stood with a wall of muscle wearing black armor standing between him and his goal.

He stepped forward, hoping that he would be allowed past but deep down he knew that wasn’t going to happen. It wouldn’t be that easy, it was never that easy.

“Force willing, I need to get by you-” He paused, waiting for the Miraluka to perhaps introduce himself?

“You aren’t getting by me, little Jedi.” The Miraluka growled a response. “In fact, you need to come with me.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.” Draca replied, resting his hands on the hilts of his lightsabers. While he wasn’t going to make the first move, he wasn’t foolish, nor was he going to allow this heaping mass of destruction to take him anywhere against his will.

“I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable. I’ve already been paid.”

“Well, surely you can give a refund, your employ-”

A look of disgust transitioned to anger at the notion, and he drew his bryar, aligning the barrel with Draca’s head. Kratus’ visage was still facing the floor. Ordinarily when someone was aiming a weapon, they were looking down the sights. He didn’t need to.

A thick finger trembled as it fought the urge to squeeze the trigger.

“Don’t test me.”

Draca took a step back and put his hands up. His eyes narrowed as he looked into the barrel of the weapon. He took another step back. The tension didn’t subside. Another step. It increased to the point of explosive impulse and just as it reached its peak, he ignited his lightsabers, anticipating the shot just before it shrieked from Kratus’ weapon. Draca spun, his blades whipped like the frantic wing pattern of a threatened hawkbat as he deflected the shots. Momentum carried him forward; this threat wasn’t going to let him leave and he still needed to open negotiations. This hunter wasn’t going to stop him and sometimes the best way to conquer your fears was to face them.

I am a Jedi and Jedi do not fear

The Miraluka unleashed a relentless volley as the blur in the Force got closer and closer. The Zabrak was weathering the storm, but Kratus didn’t expect to fell this target with blaster fire alone. He only intended to build the Jedi’s confidence. For many years he had dealt with those of the Order, the Sith, the Jedi. They followed different ideals; their beliefs were based on different sides of morality. But as much as they claimed to be different, their dogmatic views of the Force were both destructive and was something they shared. They were so predictable.

Draca advanced and as he spun once more, he aimed his lightsaber for the tip of the barrel. But the barrel dropped and was holstered as Kratus anticipated the action. The blade didn’t make contact but was quickly withdrawn as his other blade came crashing down. Kratus twisted his feet and threw up his forearm to intercept and just before the blue fury could connect, a shield snapped to attention and batted it away. The energy behind the shield deflection caused Draca to switch directions and as he spun the opposite way, the blade in his left hand provided a counter slice aimed for Kratus’ other arm.

Jedi dismemberment was better than killing, The thought flashed in Karada’s mind, and the hypocrisy made him cringe. To dismember someone was still robbing them of their life.

The hunter shouted with rage as he angled his arm and clenched his fist to unleash a red blade from his other gauntlet. The blades screamed as they made contact with one another. The shrill pops and crackling caused the factory workers to refocus their attention from their jobs to the battle above.

A flurry of excitement rained down on Kratus as he backed up with each block, Draca was applying pressure and his relentless assault would need to be squashed as Kratus planted his back foot, simultaneously blocked a blade with his shield and the other with his gauntlet and chambered a kick with his front foot with enough force to crack a few ribs. The exposed stomach of Draca took the full force of the blow as he stumbled back a few steps. He gasped for breath and as any athletically minded individual knew, breathing was key. While he was able to clench his muscles for absorption, Kratus could feel him wincing with each inhale. It wouldn't stop him. He was a Zabrak. They were notorious for pain management. Slow him perhaps.

The slender Jedi worked to ignore the pain as the Miraluka slid forward with a stab that narrowly missed its mark and was quickly clipped away by a clean defensive stroke. The two worked their weapons with precision but neither warrior would gain the upper hand until Draca unleashed a growl with power fueling a downward assault with both blades. Kratus buried his head into his sternum to ensure that he didn’t lose it and allowed the blades to come down on the top of his shoulders. The Okami gift that kept on giving saw to it that the blades merely glanced off of the beskar construction which would provide a brief window of opportunity for Karada to close the gap and sink his sanguine blade into Draca’s upper thigh.

Unanswered questions rang out in Draca's thoughts. Who was this man? Who had paid him? Why!?

Whoever he was, what he had in utility, he lacked in speed. His enemy lunged forward in a basic movement Draca was able to predict and read. He poured the mystical energy of the Force through his body as he jumped, twisting in the air as he landed with cat-like grace several feet behind his target.

"I don't want to fight you. Please, whatever this is about…"

Draca's words fell on deaf ears. The bulky man in front of him turned, brandishing his blaster again and holding down the trigger.

The young Jedi's hearts nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw the blast coming towards him. In an act of desperation, he held up the lightsaber in his right hand to defend himself and deflect the shot away from him. Draca nearly lost his balance as the blaster bolt knocked his lightsaber out of his hand, the weapon falling into the abyss below.

Draca's eyes widened when he saw the man hold down the trigger of his blaster again. Instant relief washed over him when all that left the barrel was smoke. Fueled by the Force, the Zabrak moved faster than a podracer to close the distance between them. He leapt, slashing with his weapon like a hawk-bat swooping down upon its prey.

He cut through the blaster, the barrel falling to the platform below. Draca's momentum carried him forward as he spun, bending his body to connect his foot with his opponent's chin. The force behind his kick knocked the heavily armoured man off his feet and onto the walkway. It knocked his helmet from his head and Draca paled what he saw. His eyes peered onto the tanned complexion belonging to a Miraluka and crushed red kyber crystals fused into the fleshy sockets of his eyes. Draca quickly took in his features, it made him want to empty the contents of his stomach. How could anyone do that to themselves?

Draca stood over him, his blue blade glowing amidst the plasma being refined in the complex. He could hear cheers coming from the onlooking workers below who had bet on him to win, but he tuned them out.

"Enough of this. Who are you? Who paid you to attack me and why?" Draca spoke sternly, pointing his lightsaber at his downed foe.

"You will have to do better than that."

Thanks to Draca's attention being focused on his face, the Miraluka took the young Zabrak by surprise by sweeping his leg, causing him to stagger backwards to remain upright.

Snap-Hiss!

The Miraluka reactivated the lightsaber within his vambrace and lunged at Draca, aiming for vital spots that could incapacitate him with wide, angling strikes. The Force was with the young Jedi, alarming him, directing him to move left, right, duck, dodge, and evade each strike as they came towards him whilst he regained his footing.

"I'm going to take you in, little Jedi. Whether it's in one piece or several doesn't matter," the Miraluka swiped harder and harder, a devious smirk appeared on his face, the kind that chilled Draca to his core. "I know everything about you from your home planet to the people you care about most. Maybe I should visit them once I'm done with you as punishment for your resistance?"

Draca bared his teeth, the grip on his lightsaber tightening. Who did this mercenary think he was, threatening the people he cherished most? Loved more than anything? The ones who made him who he was? They were Draca's everything and nobody in this galaxy threatened those closest to him. Anders and, especially Melissa, were his everything and he would defend them to his dying breath. Draca was determined then and there to wipe that smirk right off the Miraluka's face by any means necessary. Before he realised what was happening, an opening had presented itself like the Force had willed it into existence. Draca launched himself forward like a proton torpedo from an X-Wing. He slipped under the stabbing attempt by his attacker, pressed a hand against his armour, and pushed.

A telekinetic blast rocketed the Miraluka off the edge of the walkway the two of them were fighting on. He crashed twenty feet below onto another catwalk. His armour had, annoyingly enough, absorbed the brunt of the impact.

The Miraluka groaned as he forced himself back onto his feet. Draca struck from above, his lightsaber arched above his head as he readied to bring it down on his foe's head. The young Zabrak grimaced when the Miraluka scampered to the side and his lightsaber cut into nothing but durasteel.

Draca's hearts thundered in his ears. He could feel the battle swing into his favour and taste victory on the horizon. He ran, thankful that the Miraluka's armour was bulky which left him slow. Draca's lightsaber immediately became a blue blur in motion as it came crashing down on his enemy's head. The Miraluka raised his arms to defend himself, but found it impossible to counterattack against Draca's onslaught as the Zabrak's blue lightsaber continuously battered his armour. The Zabrak kept pushing, spinning, jumping, and attacking any and every spot that was available to him. His hearts raced against each other, adrenaline fueling him as wind whooshed past his face.

Ka-klunk, ka-klunk, ka-klunk!

Draca's gut plummeted to his feet when he looked behind him to see what that shuddering noise was. A set of red ray shields closed one after the other until they locked both him and the Miraluka in a heavily confined space near a reactor core within the refinery. Draca was so focused on beating the Miraluka that he failed to take notice of his surroundings.

"No more tricks, little Jedi."

The Force flowed through Draca's subconscious, warning him of the impending attack, but he had little room to manoeuvre his body in the tight space. The open-hand strike connected with his throat and the Zabrak hunched over gasping, wheezing, sputtering for breath as his hearts beat faster like they were trying to suck air through a straw.

Draca tried to attack with his lightsaber, kicks, a punch to the head, anything, but the lack of room made anything he did far too predictable. He cursed himself for falling into this trap. He could practically hear Anders scolding him in the back of his mind.

Unable to protect himself, the Miraluka's follow-up knee strike connected with Draca's sternum, dropping the young Zabrak to his hands. The Miraluka kicked Draca's lightsaber out of his hands, leaving him defenceless as he delivered a clubbing blow to the back of his neck.

The Miraluka reactivated the lightsaber attached to his vambrace.

"You had your chance," he lowered his blade to Draca's throat. "Time to die, little Jedi."

The Force was with him, even as he looked past the crimson blade and into the emotionless face of the predator standing over him. The blade slightly swayed from side to side, his stance was slightly off. Perhaps it was the confidence welling up inside of him. Perhaps he had already claimed victory.

The mind of the duelist lingered on this stance as waves of energy dulled the sharp pain biting at his sternum and neck. He smiled within as the Miraluka's impatience got the better of him. He motioned to strike, at least he was going to as Kratus' hips shifted before the blade even moved. It was a seconds worth of tells but that's all Draca needed.

Karada sliced downward, eager to add another notch to his gauntlet. Eerily, his face never changed. There was no grimacing or snarling. Just the subtle movements of the hips. The blade came down but just before it could taste flesh, the Zabrak flexed his hands in front of his face as if he was catching the blade. Sweat collected on the Miraluka's brow and that emotionless visage briefly cracked. The corner of his lip curled in struggle. Draca channeled even more energy until he felt as though he had reached his limits and if you were able to hear the blast, the concussion would have shattered glass.

Karada launched straight up into the air but managed to turn his body so that when he came down he landed in a kneeling position that resembled a peon bending the knee to a king. He huffed as he caught his breath, readying himself as Draca reached out and his lightsaber leapt up from the durasteel and took flight, heeding the call of its master.

Draca immediately felt comfort as it nestled in his palm and he ignited the blade. It was like being reunited with an old friend. He rolled to his feet and without skipping a beat, lunged forward with a stab. Karada swatted it away and as it switched directions, caught it with his shield. The blue blade danced and seemed to never stop moving as it clashed with saber, shield, and then saber again. The shrieks and pops of struggle rang within the small confines of their arena and the Miraluka was seemingly losing his footing. But he was equipped with his own bag of tricks.

The Force swirled around the luminous being unleashing with controlled fury. The Miraluka could 'see' it. He could feel it. He may have even admired it under different circumstances. But what he was about to do was heinous to anyone able to tap into the Force. He was going to steal it.

Absorbing the brunt of the assault, the Miraluka had become as durable as the sea turtles of Dorumaa. Hunkered down in defense as he began to tap into the living Force. He could feel his energy reserves filling like the thirsty fuel tank of an emptied Starfighter at a service port. His mind became clear, even as he blocked and swatted away Draca's relentless assault. He had to have been getting tired by now.

Calculated, every action of the Miraluka in this engagement had been centered around one simple strategy. Let the Zabrak wear himself out. He had fought practitioners of Ataru before. Draca wasn't the only proficient duelist in this fight. But now it was time for Draca to feel why Kratus was given his moniker, the devourer.

Draca worked his blade in intricate patterns but what wasn't blocked or parried by saber and shield was absorbed by beskar. He slowly grew frustrated with each failed attempt, desperately clinging to the teachings of the Jedi Order as he began panting from his onslaught. Normally the Force surged through him like the waters of a roaring river, but the more he attacked and pressed his offense, the more the Force became difficult to feel. The rumble dwindled to a whisper and as he attempted one more strike, he was astonished that it completely missed its mark.

"Something wrong, Jedi?" Kratus tilted his head, channeling his own energy into a vacuum that drew from the pool of his target. Draca entered into a spin that should have been quicker than it was, something didn't feel right. His head began to throb and he couldn't help but to feel as though he was losing control of his senses.

Kratus smelled blood in the water and broke his defensive posture, popping up and flexing his upper body to deliver a clothesline that floored Draca when it connected with the side of his head. Flashes of light clouded his mind and ringing filled his ears as he frantically tried to Claw his way back to his feet. His hearts sank as he realized what was happening and tried to resist the suppression he was feeling. Difficult to do as Karada capitalized with a stiff kick to the side of his head. Draca once again fell to the floor as the blood that sprayed from his mouth vaporized upon splattering into the energy field.

The sizzle was pleasing to the hunter as he slid forward and drove the toe of his boot into Draca's gut. Every pound of air in his lungs was released with a whoosh as he gasped to reclaim it. He slumped over to his back and ate each blow. His species was resilient, even if the Force had abandoned him. Still, his body tingled as Kratus lost concentration with each of his own attacks and was unable to maintain his drain for as long as he'd hoped.

"Time to die." The callous words of the Miraluka almost gave Draca a second wind as instantly the Force rushed back to him as if he were feeling it for the first time.

"The Force is with me." Kratus stopped and tilted his head as he heard what the Zabrak muttered under his breath. He primed his blade to plunge it into the soft belly of the Jedi but instantly felt an enveloping clamp tighten around his body, hoisting him up and then tossing him straight back like a ragdoll. He screamed as he felt himself nearing the energy field but was instantly silenced as the only thing that made it through to the other side was the smoldering beskar husk he was wearing.

"The Force is with me." Draca said once more before falling flat to recover.

Draca forced himself to roll onto his back as the crimson blade came perilously close to ending his life. He reached out and grabbed the vambrace inches before the lightsaber could cut into him and prematurely end his life. The Zabrak grit his teeth, sweat forming and dropping from his face as he struggled against the Miraluka.

Damn it! Why was he so strong!?

It didn't help that he held the vantage point over Draca. The Jedi felt his arms wobble and burn from trying to push back. His neck hurt from the strike earlier and he felt nauseous waves spread through him. With no other option, he forcefully moved his head to the side and allowed the blade to plunge into the durasteel walkway beside his head. He could hear the hissing, and twisting of metal as it was superheated next to his ear. Draca could feel the lightsaber cutting through the metal next to him.

"End of the line," the gravelly voice of the Miraluka was heard over the pounding of Draca's hearts in his ears.

This was it. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. There was no-one who could come to his rescue. Not Anders, not Meshita, not even Melissa. He was alone to suffer his fate. Would they feel it when he passed?

Ka-klunk, ka-klunk, ka-klunk!

Salvation in the form of ray shields opening presented him with an opportunity to free himself. He spotted his lightsaber out of the corner of his sight, just out of reach via normal means. Luckily, normal reach meant little to those who possessed the Force. He closed his eyes, focusing on the one chance he had. His lightsaber shuddered on the ground, slowly inching closer towards them before he finally willed it into their direction with what resolve he had left. The hilt, thankfully, smashed into the side of the Miraluka's temple, eliciting a surprised groan of pain. The mercenary's grip loosened, which allowed Draca to seize his moment to slide underneath him and sweep his legs.

The Miraluka face-planted the ground as Draca leapt back to his feet. He spotted his lightsaber, reaching out and summoning his weapon back to his hand.

Snap-Hiss!

Blue plasma spurted out of the hilt. Draca raised his weapon above his head to strike his foe down.

Ka-klunk, ka-klunk, ka-klunk!

The ray shields began closing again. Draca knew he couldn't risk getting locked into a confined space again, lest he lose what advantage he had. He spun and ran as fast as his legs could carry him past the ray shields towards the reactor core.

The Miraluka gave chase, barely making it past the ray shields before they trapped him. The Force permeated through Draca, instructing him to back away as the Miraluka lunged forward with a stab from the lightsaber in his vambrace.

Draca parried the attack with a practised swing, batting the lightsaber blade away from himself. Thanks to fatigue and his concentration being focused on his opponent, Draca failed to take note of his own footing. His right foot teetered over the edge of the reactor core, his leg wobbling from exhaustion and a sudden lack of balance. He glanced behind him, seeing the nearly bottomless pit below that made his skin crawl. The Force turned his attention back to the Miraluka swiping at his throat.

The Jedi didn't have time to block or parry the attack. Instead, he did the only thing he could and relied on his instincts to guide him. He became a conduit for the Force, allowing it to flow through him, empowering him like a bonfire being lit on a dark night inside his soul. He kicked away from the ledge, committing to a backflip as the Miraluka's red lightsaber clipped his cloak. Draca landed on the other side of the massive hole and reached out with his hand before his opponent could react. He wrapped a telekinetic grip around the Miraluka and drew them in.

The Miraluka flailed his arms in a feeble attempt to stop himself. He fell into the pit and latched onto a small crevice that stuck out from the wall. He growled, trying to pull himself up, but failed to do so.

Draca deactivated his lightsaber and made a swift exit. This was his chance. Only the Force knew what would happen if the Miraluka fell into the seemingly bottomless pit.

Then, he stopped.

'Be the change you want to see.'

Those words rang through his consciousness, spoken to him years ago as a youngling at the Jedi enclave. He lived by them. They were his inspiration and guided him through his life. He clenched his fists at his side and looked back at the pit, listening to the Miraluka struggling to maintain his grip, thanks to his heavy armour.

What would everyone think of him if he left him to die? What kind of Jedi would he be?

Draca leapt, grabbing hold of the Miraluka's wrist as they let go of the crevice. The sudden weight caught the Zabrak by surprise and nearly pulled him over the edge. Draca amplified himself with the Force, willing himself to pull the Miraluka over the edge of the pit.

The Miraluka climbed over, remaining on his hands and knees as Draca rolled onto his back. His lungs felt like they were going to explode in his chest. It didn't matter, he'd done it.

Snap-Hiss!

Draca's eyes snapped open not in fear, but in primal fury. He ground his teeth, snarling at the Miraluka now standing over him.

The Jedi leaned up, his patience wearing thin.

"OH, COME ON! I JUST SAVED YOUR LIFE! DOES THAT NOT COUNT FOR ANYTHING!?"

"Why?"

The question took Draca by surprise. "Why what?"

"Why did you save me? I've done nothing but try to kill you since our fight began. Why waste effort on something so obviously futile?"

Draca shrugged. "Do I need a reason?" The Miraluka did not respond, prompting the Jedi to continue. "I believe in trying to make the galaxy a better place. Sure, I could have left you to die and maybe I should have, but would that accomplish? If I want things to change, I need to set the example."

"You are foolish and naive," the Miraluka then surprised Draca by retracting his weapon. "My name is Kratus Karada. I was hired by a man named J'hon Whetu to find and kill you."

J'hon Whetu. Leader of the Lightbringers and a man who Draca had betrayed. The young Zabrak paled. If the Children of Mortis were hunting him, then no-one he knew was safe.

Anders. He needed to tell Anders as soon as he could.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Draca asked, watching Kratus' every move in case he suddenly lashed out at him.

"You saved my life. I'm simply returning the favour… this time," Kratus leaned over Draca. "The next time we meet, I'm finishing what we started here today. Now, go before I change my mind."

Draca didn't need to be told twice. He pulled himself to his feet, running through the set of ray shields before they could close on him again. He didn't dare look back, lest Kratus change his mind. He had to move forward, always forward. He'd made mistakes in the past, but he could change the future.

He hoped…