The Hunt Master
The storm had followed the Brotherhood's invasion fleet from orbit.
Whether it was coincidence or some cruel twist of fate, Quinn Arapto couldn't say. What he did know was that the black clouds hanging over the northern continent of Cor'neria suited the battlefield below perfectly. Lightning crawled through the sky in jagged veins of white, illuminating a landscape scarred by days of fighting. Entire districts burned in the distance where Brotherhood strike teams had shattered Collective defenses, and the dull thunder of artillery fire rolled across the horizon like the growl of some enormous predator.
Perched atop a communications relay overlooking the Technocratic Guild's primary command facility, Quinn surveyed the battlefield in silence.
Rain streamed over his charcoal-gray skin, tracing the faded red-and-black tattoos that crossed his face and disappeared beneath his armor. Water dripped from the thick braids tied behind his crown of chipped horns, while his amber-gold eyes remained fixed on the rooftop several hundred meters away. The Zabrak had spent enough years fighting wars to trust his instincts, and every instinct he possessed told him that the person standing atop that structure was the reason Brotherhood Intelligence had marked this location as a priority target.
The Brotherhood had already identified and eliminated numerous Collective commanders during the campaign, but two names had consistently appeared within intercepted communications. One belonged to Capital Enterprises. The other belonged to the Technocratic Guild.
Kendra Icasta.
The Hunt Master.
A woman whose reputation had spread throughout the Collective for years.
Unlike many of the organization's leaders, Kendra had never hidden behind bureaucracy or command centers. She had earned her position through violence. Under her leadership, the Shikari had become one of the Collective's most feared assets, a force specifically designed to hunt Force-users through a combination of advanced cybernetics, tactical precision, and relentless determination. Entire Brotherhood operations had suffered because of intelligence gathered by her hunters.
Tonight, however, the hunter had become the prey.
Quinn activated the comm unit built into his armor.
"Visual confirmation," he said. "Target located."
Static crackled briefly.
"Copy that, Razor. Reinforcements are ten minutes out."
Quinn looked toward the command center, then toward the woman standing atop it.
"Not waiting ten minutes."
Before command could object, he terminated the transmission.
The Zabrak rose to his full height and rolled his shoulders once, feeling old injuries protest beneath scar tissue and muscle. He had never been particularly fond of plans that relied on patience.
Then he jumped.
The Force surged through him.
For a heartbeat he was weightless, soaring through rain and darkness toward the command center below.
The rooftop guards barely had time to react.
Quinn hit the platform hard enough to crack the duracrete beneath his boots.
His lightsaber ignited.
Orange light exploded through the storm.
The nearest guard died before he could raise his weapon.
The second lost an arm.
The remaining soldiers opened fire immediately, turning the rooftop into a storm of crimson blaster bolts.
Quinn moved through them with practiced efficiency.
Years of combat had stripped hesitation from his movements. Every action flowed naturally into the next. His blade became a spinning wall of orange light as bolts ricocheted harmlessly into the rain-soaked darkness. One soldier fell to a slash across the chest. Another collapsed after a Force-assisted strike shattered his throat. Within seconds the rooftop had become littered with bodies and discarded weapons.
Silence returned.
Only the rain remained.
Then someone began clapping.
Slow.
Measured.
Deliberate.
Quinn turned toward the sound.
Kendra Icasta stood near the far edge of the platform, seemingly unconcerned by the dead soldiers surrounding her.
She was taller than he expected and carried herself with the confidence of someone who had survived countless battles. Beneath the rain-soaked armor, subtle cybernetic enhancements gleamed beneath exposed skin. Every movement appeared measured and efficient, betraying the countless hours of conditioning that had transformed her into one of the Collective's most dangerous hunters.
"I expected Brotherhood assassins," she said. "Instead they send a warrior."
Quinn lowered his blade slightly.
"They sent the one available."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I've read your file."
"I'm sure you have."
"Clan Arcona. Mercenary. Survivor."
Lightning illuminated the rooftop.
Kendra's expression remained calm.
"You know what fascinates me about the Brotherhood?" she asked. "Every one of you believes your story makes you special."
Quinn tilted his head.
"And what do you believe?"
The Hunt Master's eyes hardened.
"That everyone breaks eventually."
The moment the words left her mouth, she attacked.
The distance vanished instantly.
Her twin vibroblades screamed through the rain.
Quinn barely intercepted the first strike.
The impact shocked him.
Strong.
Far stronger than any normal human should have been.
The second blade followed immediately.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Kendra fought like a machine given human form. Every movement had purpose. Every strike sought a weakness. There was no flourish or wasted effort, only ruthless efficiency honed through years spent hunting opponents stronger than herself.
Orange light and vibrating steel collided repeatedly.
Sparks exploded around them.
Quinn found himself giving ground despite his size advantage. The cybernetically enhanced Hunt Master moved with frightening speed, constantly forcing him to react rather than dictate the pace of the fight.
A blade slipped past his defense.
Pain flared across his shoulder.
Blood mixed with rainwater.
"First blood," she observed.
Quinn answered with a powerful kick that sent her sliding backward across the rooftop.
Neither combatant immediately pressed the advantage.
Instead they circled one another.
Watching.
Evaluating.
Predators studying predators.
Far below, the battle for the facility continued. Explosions shook the structure while Brotherhood forces fought room by room through the Technocratic Guild's headquarters. The war raged around them, but atop the rooftop only the duel mattered.
Kendra attacked again.
This time Quinn met her aggression head-on.
His lightsaber carved through the darkness in powerful arcs that forced her backward. For the first time she yielded ground, retreating toward a cluster of communications equipment positioned near the center of the platform.
Exactly where she wanted him.
Hidden emitters activated.
A pulse of electromagnetic energy erupted outward.
Quinn's lightsaber sputtered and died.
Darkness swallowed the rooftop.
Kendra smiled.
"Adaptation," she said. "That's why we'll always survive."
She charged.
Without his blade, Quinn relied entirely on instinct.
The first vibroblade missed his throat by centimeters.
The second sliced across his armor.
The third forced him into a desperate roll that left sparks erupting from the duracrete where he had been standing moments earlier.
The Hunt Master pressed relentlessly.
She had spent years preparing for opponents like him.
Years studying their strengths.
Years learning how to kill them.
But Quinn Arapto had spent his life surviving impossible situations.
When Kendra lunged again, he stepped inside her guard and drove his forehead into hers.
His chipped horns cracked against her skull.
She staggered.
Quinn followed with an elbow.
Then a knee.
Then a brutal punch that sent her stumbling backward.
For the first time, genuine frustration crossed her features.
She drew a concealed shock knife.
Blue energy crackled across its edge.
Their next clash was savage.
No elegance remained.
Only violence.
The shock knife struck Quinn's side.
Electricity surged through his body.
His muscles seized instantly.
Pain exploded through every nerve ending as he crashed to one knee, struggling to force air back into his lungs.
Kendra approached slowly.
Unlike many warriors, she felt no need to rush a victory.
The Hunt Master had spent years tracking Force-users across battlefields and star systems alike. She knew desperation could be just as dangerous as confidence.
"You Force-users always believe power makes you superior," she said as she advanced through the storm. "You mistake talent for inevitability."
Quinn tried to rise.
His legs refused.
The electricity was still working its way through his nervous system.
Kendra's vibroblade leveled toward his throat.
"And eventually, every single one of you discovers the same truth."
Lightning flashed overhead.
The blade descended.
Quinn reacted on instinct.
The Force answered.
His lightsaber tore free from the rooftop where it had fallen moments earlier and shot toward his outstretched hand.
Orange light erupted between them.
Kendra twisted away immediately, but not quickly enough.
The blade slashed across her left side.
Armor parted.
Blood sprayed into the rain.
For the first time during the entire battle, the Hunt Master's composure cracked.
She staggered backward.
Her hand instinctively moved to the wound.
Quinn forced himself to his feet.
Every muscle screamed in protest.
His vision swam.
But he was standing.
The orange blade hummed steadily in his grasp.
A grin appeared beneath the scar running across his face.
"Looks like everybody bleeds."
Kendra's eyes narrowed.
The wound wasn't fatal.
But it was deep enough to matter.
Deep enough to leave a scar.
For several seconds neither moved.
The rooftop had changed.
What began as a hunt had become something else.
Mutual respect.
Mutual hatred.
The realization that neither opponent would be easy prey.
Then warning sirens erupted throughout the facility.
EVACUATION PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED.
REACTOR CONTAINMENT FAILURE IMMINENT.
Kendra's expression changed immediately.
The battle below had gone badly.
Brotherhood forces were winning.
Quinn sensed the shift in her priorities.
He attacked.
The Zabrak surged forward through the rain, putting everything he had left into a final assault.
Their weapons collided again and again.
Orange light crashed against vibrating steel.
Kendra retreated under the barrage.
Not because she was losing.
Because she was calculating.
A dead commander served no one.
Another explosion rocked the facility.
Part of the rooftop collapsed behind them.
Kendra disengaged immediately.
A compact grapnel launcher appeared in her hand.
The cable fired.
Embedding itself into a communications tower across the gap.
"No!"
Quinn lunged.
His lightsaber swept downward.
The blade struck her shoulder just before the cable went taut.
Armor split.
Metal and flesh burned beneath the strike.
Kendra hissed through clenched teeth.
Then the launcher pulled her away.
The Hunt Master disappeared into the storm.
Quinn reached the edge of the rooftop just in time to watch her swing toward the neighboring structure.
Even wounded, her movements remained controlled.
Professional.
She landed hard on the far platform and turned briefly.
Rain obscured her features.
But Quinn could feel her stare.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
This wasn't over.
Then she vanished into the darkness.
The storm swallowed her completely.
Quinn remained alone on the rooftop as sirens continued to scream throughout the facility.
His chest rose and fell heavily.
The objective had escaped.
But as he looked down at the blood Kendra had left behind on the rain-soaked duracrete, he allowed himself a small smile.
The Hunt Master was alive.
Wounded.
And now she knew exactly who he was.
The next time they met, neither of them would underestimate the other.
And deep down, Quinn suspected there would be a next time.
War had a way of bringing old enemies together.
Especially the ones who survived.