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 untravelled 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.

Countless perils awaited those who ventured into the furthest depths of the Gauntlet. This fact was known to the crew of the Godless Matron better than most. There was opportunity, however, when the right circumstances presented themselves. The Herald had offered safe passage and not an entirely small sum of credits to whomsoever managed to 'run the Gauntlet' successfully. The proof of such a feat lay deep within the labyrinthine halls themselves, with a banner bearing the Herald's crest waiting to be claimed.

The risks of the Gauntlet alone were enough to dissuade most, but the crew of the Godless Matron had ensured that the ante, so to speak, was to be raised. Those who entered the Gauntlet would do so from varying access points, and all would gain entry at the same designated intervals until the prize was claimed.

The sound of Selika’s own breathing seemed to thunder in her ears. It was the only thing she could hear outside of the quiet whirring of the suit’s life support systems. It had been years since she had been in space without a ship, depending only on the thin enviromental suit to protect her from the freezing vacuum. While Selika wasn’t usually one to lose her head over heights, she still made sure to keep her eyes firmly fixed on the point on the Godless Matron’s outer hull that marked her goal. The yawning abyss that stretched out “below” her feet for light years on end would be enough to make anyone’s head spin.

The plan had seemed simple enough as she had sketched it out back in her quarters on Aliso. Gain passage to the Matron aboard one of the disreputable vessels that made port there and sneak aboard via a spacewalk. Now, drifting slowly towards the underside of the ship’s command sphere, it seemed a lot more complicated. At least the ship was currently in deep space, far away from any system or, more importantly, star. That meant the matte black of her suit was less likely to be noticed against the dark background of space by any sentient that happened to glance out a viewport.

The things I do to avoid what passes for customs aboard the Herald’s flagship, Selika mused.

Catching her mind wandering, Selika focused her attention back to the task at hand as the hull loomed before her, close enough now to seem like a monolithic metal wall in space. Waiting until the last moment to fire the suit’s RCS thrusters for fear of being seen, Selika hit the hull plating with bruising force. Bouncing along the curved surface, she scrambled to find a handhold. Finally her grip tightened around the edge of an open access panel, a jarring halt to her slow motion tumble. Selika made the mistake of looking down past her feet and her head swam momentarily. Calling on the Force to quiet her protesting inner ear, it was then a simple task to move across the hull from handhold to handhold until she found her goal: an exposed section of the interior protected by a magcon field. Pushing through it, she felt the welcome tug of gravity.

The suit display showed normal atmospheric pressure so Selika quickly removed her helmet. Her breath was accompanied by condensation, the magcon field behind her doing little to retain heat. Quickly stripping off her suit, Selika revealed the short sleeved jumpsuit beneath. Stowing the suit in a small storage locker, she headed deeper into the ship.

It was immediately warmer once she left the compartment, moving carefully as she remembered that the depths of this ship were littered with traps. Arriving at a closed bulkhead door, Selika activated at the release mechanism. The door shot upward quickly, revealing a Quarren on his knees on the other side. He was obviously fiddling with the door controls on his side, the release panel blackened with an ancient blaster burn. A surprised look on his face told Selika that the Quarren, likely a repair technician, hadn’t expected her presence. Lashing out with the Force, she threw the alien backwards as readied her saber and thumbed it on. Her opponent fumbled at his belt, Selika expecting that he was going for his commlink. Instead, much to her surprise, he pulled the hilt of a saber staff from behind him as the weapon’s emerald blades sprang to life. Both combatants stopped short, looks of dawning recognition mirrored on their faces.

“Lexic,” Selika said, recognizing the Palatinaeian from holos, having never met him.

“Tribune,” he replied. “I take it you’re here for Sorenn’s banner as well?”

Selika nodded, willing to play along.

“Perhaps we could come to an arrangement,” she continued, exerting pressure on his mind.

The Quarren’s eyes narrowed. “Split the prize. Better than hacking at one another.”

Selika offered a hand to help the man up. She could sense that her mind trick had only worked because he had been inclined to make a deal. If he were able to fight back against it, though, he would likely turn on her.

No matter, she mused silently. Either way, I’ll have to kill him. No sense in going to the trouble of sneaking aboard only to leave a witness.