A year after the destruction of the second Death Star in the celebrated Battle of Endor, another war was waged between the New Republic and Galactic Empire. Basking beneath the desert sun of Jakku rests the remnants of this hostility. Shifting sands have since buried and uncovered countless treasures and relics- to the delight of scavengers eager who hope to recover tokens from either side of the conflict!

The harsh desert offers little shelter from the elements, remaining barren and flat against the imposing backdrop of a fallen Star Destroyer that was left uncovered after the famed Battle of Jakku. Rather than allowing the vessel to fall into the hands of the Republic after the self-destruct had been sabotaged, Captain Ciena Ree ordered the Inflictor evacuated and sent it crashing to the planet’s surface. Sunken into the shifting desert sea, the upper portion of the Inflictor’s hull and exhaust ports remain otherwise intact, preserved amidst the rubble of untold casualties that had once occurred on both sides. Although it has been scoured by the passing of several sandstorms, it still displays the former power and might of the Galactic Empire.

Innumerous scraps of metal and machines of war share the same grave, echoing the lives of those who fought and died among the perilous wastes. Hundreds of these relics sit untouched, lingering amidst the ghosts that tend and reside in Jakku’s graveyard.

He had gotten bored waiting, so he decided to eat something when a scattered blaster shot hit the wall next to him.

Firith looked at the slightly scorched hole in his cloak, and then along the corroded bulkhead where several other such holes had been burned into the surface. What kind of idiot uses a diffused barreled blaster? Shaking his head he turned to look up into the hazy shadows of the derelict ship he had come to meet his latest “job” in. Sang is getting weird, he thought as he spotted a vague shape in the gloom at the end of the cargo bay he sat in. It was bad enough he had to travel to this dustball of a planet just to settle a score, What a kriffin waste of time.

“I could have killed you. I hit what I aim for.” A feminine voice called out.

Firith looked at the blaster marks again, rolled his eyes and relaxed. Snorting in laughter he went back to eating his dinner before washing it down with a hit from his flask. He had sensed the woman's approach earlier. Glancing up, he saw her emerge from the shadows and start to walk across the large open space he had chosen for the kill.

She had thick red hair with thin black streaks in it, and was dressed as a warrior in matte black armor. Her cat-like emerald green eyes boldly looked down on him.

Firith could feel her anger and her scorn. “Get up and fight you fat old man!” She challenged, sneering at him in derision and pointing her blaster at him with her left hand.

Hmmm, snarky little upstart needs to learn some manners, the aged Dark Jedi thought as he looked at the young woman in front of him. Squinting, Firith took a deep breath and focused on the Force. Waving his hand at her as if in dismissal, he reached out and snared her mind. “Punch yourself as hard as you can in the nose!” He ordered her.

The Sith reacted, slamming herself in the face with her blaster. The blow shattered her nose, and gouged a nice bloody chunk out of her forehead, and splitting open her lip.

Almost immediately she gained control of her mind. She let loose a scream of rage, sending blood and snot spitting everywhere.

Hmmm, the young pup has a strong will, interesting. The older man thought stepping back from the spit and blood.

Blinded by blood in one eye and tears in the other, she pointed her blaster in Firith's direction.

Before she could fire, the assassin reached out again to the Force and used it to snatch the blaster from her hand.

Caught unaware, the Arconan Knight lost her grip on the weapon as it was telepathically snatched from her hand.

“Now, now, child, let's not be doing anything hasty,” Firith chided, catching the weapon. Unable to figure out where the power pack release button was at on the pistol, he opted to throw it down a nearby hole.

Sputtering and spitting, the woman drew her lightsaber with her left hand and began swinging it at the blurry shape in front of her.

Shifting around toward the woman's right, Firith pulled one of his pouches of blinding dust and threw it into her already-damaged face. Making her drop her saber in order to try and rub the grit out of her eyes.

“Sorry my dear, but I have places to be. Besides, I have been told not to play with my food.” The Savant laughed as he stepped towards the Knight’s weak side, delivering a sharp punch to her jaw.

The Arconan's head snapped around and her knees buckled as the the woman collapsed into unconsciousness.

Firith momentarily debated kicking her in the head and ribs a few times just for fun, then decided against it. Instead he grabbed her by her hair, and drug her toward the hole in the floor where he had tossed the blaster earlier.

Looking down he could see the next deck was about ten feet down. With a shrug, he pushed the woman into the hole. He heard the thump of her body, and an audible snap of something breaking.

Smiling, Firith went back to finish his meal and then slowly headed towards a nearby exit. Leaving the woman’s body to be dealt with by the carrion scavengers of the planet.

As consciousness returned in a muddle of thoughts and memories, pain was the only constant. Her whole body ached. Her arm hurt the worst, where the bones had shattered during the fall. With a soft sigh, she drew upon her pain and anger, feeling the Force in an icy caress that numbed her agony even as it mended torn muscle, broken bone and flayed flesh.

As she lay there concentrating and allowing the minutes to sluggishly pass, she considered the events of the past few hours. Of arriving on Jakku to check Inquisitorius drops sites, only to find the first one empty. And the second. And the third. Her temper made worse by the fact that the ship that had dropped her off had only been supplied with the most vile rotgut whiskey she had ever tasted. Kordath's idea of a joke, no doubt. What she had thought would be an easy mission became an exercise in frustration and futility as she trekked across the desert with no water.

When she arrived at the final drop site, she had been in an exceedingly foul mood. Rage, and likely minor sunstroke, had allowed her to think attacking the Savant outright was a good idea.

Not my finest hour, she thought wryly.

At last, she tested her arm. Her fingers felt stiff, and every movement resulted in a bone-deep ache. Lightsaber dueling is not going to be an option for awhile.

She sat up, feeling her muscles protest as she did. But she could move. Encouraged, she got to her feet but froze as her movements produced an ominous creaking from the floor below her. The crash and the intervening years must have weakened the structure, she thought with growing horror.

She hastily scanned the shadows, her eyes falling upon a tangle of hanging cables. If she could get to them, she could climb up. She took one step, then another as she crossed the shaft, every movement causing the floor to shudder and groan. But the structure held. Gratefully, she seized the cables and began to climb. Her ascent was slow as she only had use of one arm, but she eventually managed it.

Lucine climbed to the floor above and examined her surroundings. Blackened and broken consoles lined the walls, and the duralloy floor was covered with debris and a fine layer of sand. It was difficult to discern much more detail in the murky shadows; the only light came from the hole in the plating along the far wall.

As she squinted to see into the bright sunlight beyond the hole, she noted the elderly Human in the distance. He is overconfident, she thought. He does not think me a threat. I can use that. A slow, wicked smile played across her blood-stained lips as she secured some cables around her waist.

---

Firith walked slowly, thinking about how badly he wanted a drink. A nice stiff drink to toast his success in beating wisdom into another young pup. But first he would have to get someplace that actually had alcohol.

“Is that the best you have got?”

He turned to see the redhead standing in the gaping hole in the wall of the ship, blaster in hand. Her pose was confident, despite the blood covering her face.

“Slow learner,” Firith grunted. But there was something wrong with the situation. He studied her, searching for the source of his concern. Finally, he decided the only problem was that the Sith was too cocky. He drew upon the Force as he said, “Hit yourself in the face again.”

The Arconan's confident look faded. She raised her free hand, delivering an open handed slap to her face.

Firith shook his head in mock disappointment. The motion was partly to dispel the niggling doubt that ate at his mind. Something was wrong, but what was it? He could not figure it out. “Nevermind, I think you're too stupid to learn,” he said.

He picked up her discarded lightsaber and tossed it to her. It sailed over her shoulder, disappearing into the shadows. The redhead darted into the ship, returning a moment later with her weapon in hand, ready for a fight.

“Cut off your head,” Firith commanded, using the Force to compel the Sith. The emerald blade ignited. Slowly, she raised it toward her neck—

—and stopped. “I do not think so, darling,” she said. Deactivating her weapon, she turned and disappeared into the gloom.

Firith pursed his lips and shook his head. What a piece of work! If she were a Sadowan I would have to respect her, too bad she’s just a lowly Arconan, the old man thought. Wrapping his cloak around him, he breathed in and concentrated. As he used the Force to fade from view, he slowly made his way towards the opening the woman had just vanished through.

Looking into the next room, he could see her footsteps heading off towards the bowels of the ship. Squinting at the marks on the floor he decided she wasn’t worth chasing.

Heading back towards the aft part of the downed starship he reached out on occasion to try and sense the woman. A faint feeling from below, mixed with something else tickled his brain.

“Huh, probably radiation from the drive core. It'd serve that one right,” he muttered, crawling over some debris. Looking around, he headed towards an opening to the outside of the ship and the desert that surrounded it.

---

Lucine drew upon her desire to succeed for her clan and her anger at her current situation to fuel her flagging energy. “I WILL find this damn Inquitorious holocron and prove to them all I deserve promotion.” She said to herself.

Marks on the floor and walls showed where scavengers had been before her. Checking the information she had on the final possible location, she spotted the wall panel she had been seeking. Still intact but half buried in debris, the panel showed no signs of being tampered with.

Drawing her saber she ignited it and drew the blade down a seam in the wall. Globs of molten metal spit and dripped as the plasma carved a jagged line down the seam. Suddenly something popped and the wall panel opened a little, only to be blocked by debris.

Growling in frustration she snatched away what she could move and then began hacking and slashing at the rest of it with her lightsaber until she had moved or destroyed enough to open the panel more.

Gasping for breath and feeling extremely dizzy she pulled the panel open to find a small triangular item that glowed a sickly red color and was inscribed with the symbol of the Inquisitorius.

Finally!

Grabbing the holocron she headed for the exit to call for pickup.

––––––———––––––———---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Firith staggered through the sand and headed towards his personal Y-Wing. The sleek black ship sat in the shadows that the massive derelict starship cast. As he approached he was greeted by a whistle beep from the R3 unit docked in its dorsal housing slot, and the canopy of the cockpit opening.

“Thanks R3, let's get off this dustball.” The aged Jedi grunted, climbing into the cockpit and began securing himself into the seat as the droid closed the overhead canopy.

Checking that his ship was ready for lift off, Firith was interrupted by his droid beeping and whistling at him. Glancing up he saw the woman he had been fighting stagger and fall onto the sand from an opening in the hull of the starship, a little ways away.

“Open the canopy, R3,” the Dark Jedi growled. “Someone needs to die.”

Once on the ground, Firith pulled his slug thrower from it's holster and headed towards his prey. Not bothering to conceal himself, he headed straight for the woman as she got to her feet.

Her fatigue and pain kept her from noticing his approach until it was too late.

BLAM!

Huh, forgot about the kick this thing has. Firith thought, bringing the weapon back down to fire again.

The sound of the weapon firing and a bullet exploding into the dirt about five feet away brought Lucine’s head around to face the oncoming assassin.

BLAM!

The next bullet ricocheted off the ship behind the surprised Knight.

Damn, I need to learn how to use this thing better! Firith thought. Pausing to take aim, he fired off another round.

BLAM!

The bullet punched into the Sith’s gut throwing her backwards just as she drew her own saber.

Slowly the Sadowan walked up to the writhing and moaning form on the ground.

Pointing the weapon at her head, Firith stroked the trigger three times, turning the Knight’s head into mush.

Hello, what's this? Noticing the holocron that had fallen out of her pouch, Firith picked it up and admired his find. “Nice, very nice.”

Smiling and whistling, he walked back to his ship.

Firith’s eyes narrowed with anger at the redhead’s flippant behavior. He thought about just ignoring her and going to find some alcohol, but quickly decided against it. Drinking could wait. First, he would reward her disrespectful behavior; clearly a beating would not be sufficient. Fuming, he stalked toward the ship.

---

Lucine banished the illusion of herself and began her slow climb back into the shaft, wincing as the floor trembled hazardously beneath her. Thankfully, it remained intact. I just need it to hold a few moments more...

It was then that the Savant appeared at the edge of the shaft and glared down at her. “Should've stayed down, pup,” he grunted.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk like a lobotomized nerf?” she asked. Thinking for a moment, she added, “Though I suppose it makes sense. You look and smell like one too.”

His eyebrows drew downward into a scowl at her insulting words. With a growl of rage, he jumped from the ledge into the pit, landing with a heavy thump. The force of his landing was all the weakened floor could take. A look of surprise crossed the Savant's dull features as the Force warned him of the imminent danger. He darted forward even as the floor gave way to gravity. With a scream of twisting metal that drowned out his own, the Savant plummeted into the darkness of the room below.

Lucine felt her heart race as she too started to fall, only to be stopped by the cables she had coiled around her waist. She peered into the yawning darkness of the cavernous room, trying to discern what had become of the elderly Human. Dimly, she could make out a twisted mass of limbs and gore. She extended her senses, but the Savant had already become one with the Force.

She could not help but to smile despite how much it hurt to do so. She would have liked for his death to have been slower, but was pleased nonetheless.

The redhead began her slow ascent once more as she considered the events of the day. “Direct assaults are ineffective,” she murmured as she climbed. “I think I will stick to using finesse in the future.”