Abandoned and forgotten, the ruins of the Dark Temple have slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. In the central chamber the walls have crumbled, the ceiling has caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas’ sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from the presence of intruders while vicious predators hide just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pure-blooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but the majesty in the stone still echoes to the past.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. One might tilt their head to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground. Spirits of the Sith are rumored to still haunt the grounds—waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain.

“You know Artemis, I think it’s official: Our employers want us dead.”

For once, the snarky astromech offered up no response as the two looked up at the dreadful form of the Dark Temple. That fact alone spoke volumes. Jon sighed. It was gonna be a long day.

“Well...no point in stalling.” And with that, man and machine pressed their way into the dark depths of the ancient Sith ruins. Something about the place, not the crumbling statues or odd shadows, but something deeper, left his nerves on edge. Like he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Once they were in the center of the enormous inner chamber, Jon took out his datapad.

“Ok...let’s see, the burial chamber that houses the Holocron we’re looking for should be right around...did you hear something?”

Artemis beeped in affirmation. Jon strained his ears to hear. It sounded like….crying? What…?

“...Follow me, Artemis,” said Jon before rushing off, not waiting for a response. The two headed up one of the twisting flights of steps and onto the overhang that ringed the central chamber.

“Now where did it…” there it was again! The sound was coming from behind one the massive pillars. Jon drew Shiro in his left hand, and carefully rounded the pillar to find… a crying little girl? In this place? Jon was immediately skeptical. The girl gasped when she spotted him, and her eyes seemed to widen with fear when they saw the blaster in his hand. She curled in even further.

“Wh-who are you? Why are you h-here?” she said in a small voice.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jon said evenly, though he lowered his blaster slightly, starting to doubt his previous skepticism. “This isn’t exactly the kind of place one expects to find a child.”

“My d-daddy, brought me,” she whispered. “He’s an...an archeolomogist….or something?”

“You’re dad normally bring his kid to haunted Sith tombs then?” And he thought his grandfather had had an unusual approach to parenting. Go figure.

“D-daddy s-says...n’such thing as g-ghosts…” she stuttered.

“And where is he now?” Jon asked curiously. Rather than answering, the girl only started crying harder. Jon got the message. No such thing as ghosts indeed.

He’d heard the stories from the Dark Jedi, about the Sith ghosts that filled this place. Supposedly they’d gotten quieter in the thousands of years since this place had been built. Quiter, but not, evidently, gone.

Sighing deeply, Jon finally put Shiro back in her holster, and called Artemis over. “Artemis this is…”

“...Reeka,” the girl said quietly.

“Right, and you’re gonna take her out of here while I-”

“NO!” the girl shouted suddenly. “Don’t! Don’t leave me!”

Jon hesitated. He wanted to help the kid, truly he did...but he was on a time limit to find that blasted Holocron. The Empress would tan his hide and make a jacket out of it if he was late…

“Alright kid, just….stick close. I’ve got my own business here, but once it’s settled? We’ll see about getting you out of here.”

Not too long later, the bizarre trio of man, child, and machine were able to track down the burial chamber of one Darth Quatrus, the damn Holocron embedded into the sarcophagus lid. Jon was able to carefully, very carefully lest he rouse another angry Sith ghost (and damn but that still felt so strange to say. Would he never get used to this contract?) use his magna gloves to pry it loose without any damage.

“Alright,” Jon addressed his companions. “Now that that’s done we can-whoa!”

Jon’s sentence was cut off by the knife whizzing by his head, an attack he only just was able to dodge. He didn’t have time to think as Reeka, now wielding a very sharp looking knife, and sporting a grin that was just wrong on the face of a child, charged him head on.

“Wha-why-how-just what!” was about the most elegant thing Jon was able to stutter. In the chaos the Holocron slipped from his fingers. And, of course. Into Reeka’s.

“Thank you for your assistance!” she said with a dramatic flourish of her blade, before dashing off down the maze-like hallways that filled the Dark Temple.

For a moment, Jon just stared after her, trying to rap his head around what just happened, before chasing after her, Artemis in tow. “Wait a second! Get back here! Who are you? Tiny frightening child?”

The dilapidated stone of the once great temple flashed by Reeka on either side as her tiny footfalls drew her ever farther from her target. She shoved the weight of the holocron against her side and slipped her dagger back in its sheath for the time being. One of the first lessons her father had taught her about combat was that a hand bearing anything other than a useable weapon was only a burden. Glancing at the holocron’s sturdy frame, she supposed she could use it for a blunt object if anything. The crystalline structure glinted as the eerie green light of the temple refracted through it, which absorbed her fascination enough to miss the sound of her comlink activating. Her father’s gruff voice laden with worry snapped her back to reality.

“Reeka! Report!”

The tiny human fumbled a bit before flicking her comms for both receiving and sending. Her lips trembled slightly as she imagined his rage building.

“I am here, Father.”

“I thought I told you to report back every standard hour, on the hour.”

“Yes, Father, I am sorry. I have made contact with the target.”

There was a slight pause on the other side. When he responded, her father’s voice had lost its edge.

“Oh. Very well, little Reek. Have you accomplished the assigned task then?”

The high pitch squeal of an R3 droid somewhere to her rear followed by the curse of someone stumbling over rubble told Reeka that she had slowed her pace too much during the conversation.

“Not yet, Father. I have taken the target’s prize holocron and can use it to lure him into a position of my liking. Where I will then dispatch him.”

Another moment of silence did not do much to ease her dread that she might have somehow disappointed him. His answer caused her to stop in her tracks.

“No.”

Reeka’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“I do not understand, Father.”

“I can take a holocron whenever I have the will to do so. This exercise was to prove your readiness. Face him. Oh, and Reeka?”

Reeka noticed the lack of use of the nickname he had given her. In her experience it meant he was a deadly serious.

“Yes, Father?”

“Fight to kill. I will accept nothing less if you are to prove yourself ready. You asked for this chance, now take it.”

Reeka’s fingers turned white with pressure as she clamped down on the holocron, her mind hardening to the task at hand.

“Yes, Father. I will not fail you.”

With an acknowledging harumph, the connection died away, leaving her to ponder her new strategy. With a weighted sigh she turned to face the open corridor, where the shadows flitted across the walls as if dancing mockingly around her. She did not have to wait long as the man came careening around the corner huffing from exertion, R3 astromech in tow. He stopped suddenly as he realized she was standing half within the cover of the erratically weaving splotches of darkness. The faint glow of the temple added to the sharp emerald of Reeka’s gaze giving her the look of someone who had seen more than most children her age.

“Ah...hooo...ugh...there you are, girl. You are pretty light on your feet, I must say. Now, what do you say you just hand that holocron over like a good little girl and we’ll just forget the whole ‘you tried to kill me’ spiel, eh? What does a girl like you want with something like that now anyway?”

Bouncing the holocron from one petite hand to the other, Reeka gave an impish smile that melted away her angelic charm and replaced it with sheer disdain. With a casual flick she tossed the holocron over her shoulder where it landed heavily and scraped along the stone floor to roll a few meters away. Jon winced at the sound.

Well, there goes my bonus for bringing it back in good condition.

“Now why did you have to go and--”

“I was never after the holocron.”

Jon almost laughed aloud at the realization. Of course. That should have been clear from the beginning. If he wasn’t so disturbed at the thought of someone using a child to do their dirty work, he might have been impressed at her skill. A grimace crossed his face still at the thought of having to fight this small girl. He did have that stun grenade handy…

There was little time left to consider his options as Reeka took the initiative and bared the fangs of her twin daggers while her balanced stance built momentum in her charge. Her braid swung flippant behind her, but when she spun into a pirouette on the ball of her front foot Jon suddenly found it lashing across his face. The jump placed her hands at an even height with his chest. With his left hand occupied from unsheathing Shiro, Jon could only hastily throw up his right arm to shield the coming blows. The daggers raked across his forearm, but he managed to prevent them from cutting at his chest. As quick as she had managed to get so close, the girl was gone again just as fast as she hit the ground. She landed on her toes and smoothly slid into a split while swinging both hands out to her sides, the daggers aimed to slice. Jon had to jump back to avoid the danger, and nearly sat on his astromech droid in the process. He shoved off from the droid and planted himself firmly in order to send a few rounds of plasma in her direction. Reeka rolled sideways to avoid the first blast, transitioning into a backwards somersault and then spinning away to use the astromech as cover. The droid whined shrilly and Jon took the time to draw his second blaster, Kuro.

While he could see her hands reach up and grasp the top of his astromech, Jon could not make out exactly what Reeka was doing on the other side. Carefully he sidled up to line up his blasters on her.

“Alright, kid. That’s enough of that. I’ve got you pegged now, so come out from behind Artemis. I see you put your daggers away. Good. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

His breathing had calmed slightly now that he felt in control of the situation. The throbbing in his right arm told him the cuts weren’t terribly deep, but needed cleaning. As endearing as she might have been, he could not help but curse the girl now. She had thrown an unexpected wrench into his plans of an easy payday.

The blasters’ moved in tandem with Reeka’s sudden movement as her hands disappeared again. The young girl bobbed up with her hands flung towards Jon, and two small glints of metal flashed towards him. His first reactionary shot melted away the first throwing dagger while his second shot clipped it enough to force it off target, sending it whizzing by his right ear. As the sparks cleared and his vision quickly tried to correct to the corridor’s low-light ambience, Jon watched through blinking eyes as Reeka leapt atop the astromech. With her hands lifting her small frame, she twisted from her torso and struck out with her feet as if she had snakes for legs. The strikes were not heavy, but they put Jon off balance and he had to shift his feet to compensate.

The next thing he knew, snakes were striking from everywhere.

Reeka flitted from foot to foot, using her own speed and knowledge of technique to remain on the move. With every kick she spun into another that led into another, and so on. The consistency and poise she managed to accomplish would have made any of Jabba’s slave dancers jealous. It was just starting to annoy Jon, though. Accepting the handful of blows it allowed, the Scoundrel forced his blasters back into their holsters since they were just keeping him from counter attacking now. Retreating a step, he shifted his wrists and heard the snap! as his vibroblade gauntlets released their blades.

“Enough, kid. Anymore of this and I won’t be able to prevent you from getting hurt.”

Reeka slipped a hand behind her and drew forth her two vibrodaggers, flicking the spare into her other open hand. The faint hum of both sets of weapons hung on in the silence as they both gauged the distance. A small smile from Reeka earned a scornful glare in response.

“My father uses Ryyk blades. Your tiny Gamorrean-stickers don’t scare me.”

“Sounds like you could use a visit from the Department of Social Services, kid. Your ol’ man puts you through the wringer, for what? The sick pleasure?”

The blades in Reeka’s hands spun and her voice grew shrill.

“Don’t you dare insult my father!”

Blade rang against blade and air was sliced away in slivers as the two rushed together.

Jon recoiled at the shock of Reeka’s blow against his wrist blade. He felt the shock of it travel down his arm, and heard the girl’s furious shriek echoing loudly in the enormous chamber. He as forced to give ground as he backpedaled to avoid her next cut aimed at his throat.

Great, he thought to himself. I made the crazy girl angry! Just what I needed!

Instead of blocking Reeka’s next thrust, Jon sidestepped it, and tried to pivot around her. But the girl was fast-blindingly fast, as a matter of fact-and performed another of those bizarre pirouettes, ducking under his arms as she did so, and trying to plant her knives in his back.

Jon reacted instinctively, and let himself fall to the ground, underneath the strike, before rolling several meters away and scrambling to his feet, and trying to get some distance between himself and the tiny murder machine that was chasing him. Somehow, she managed to weave and dodge around the rubble strewn about the floor of the temple whilst he stumbled about, trying not to trip.

If he lost this fight, he’d never live it down. After ducking under a knife that whistled past his head, knocking his hat off in the process, he came to the conclusion that if he lost this fight he’d never live, period.

Reeka seemed to have regained her cool after her little temper tantrum a moment ago… which gave Jon an idea…

“You know…” he said, “I can’t help but wonder what kind of man feels the need to send a child to his own work.” Jon watched with a mixture of dread and anticipation when he saw the girl’s eyes narrow and her jaw clench. Seems he was onto something all right.

“Say one more word against my father…” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“I mean, what? He so bad at this job that a little kid is a better opt-WHOA!”

Reeka shot at him with a blinding speed that would make even Force wielders blink, swinging wildly in her attempts to gut him. Jon still took notice, however, of the fact that she was far less composed, he dance like grace giving way to a blind attempt to kill. Seems no amount of training-or psychosis, whatever this kid’s issue was-could make up for the mentality of a child.

“Take it from me kid,” Jon said as he deflected another of her vicious slashes, “Anybody who sends a little kid into danger,” nearly in place now, “Is unlikely to shed a tear,” Jon sidestepped her forward thrust...leading her directly into a particularly unstable patch of ground, “If you don’t come back!”

Jon backpedaled rapidly as Reeka stumbled to the ground, the tiles beneath her giving way. Jon didn’t waste time, and chucked his stun grenade in her direction. The child didn’t even scream as she fell unconscious to the floor.

“...Not to say that I have any intention of making that happen. I do have some standards, kid.” It was strange, like this she almost managed to look...normal. Cute even. What could’ve happened to a kid to make her like… that?

Jon shrugged. He had done his good deed for the month by trying to help her once, and look where that had gotten him. Instead, he intended to find Artemis and his holocron, and be gone long before she woke up.

A flurry of slashes parted the air in front of Jon’s face. While he managed to deflect or outright dodge the majority, a few cuts ran jaggedly in places on his attire. His own skill with a blade was nothing to shake a hydrospanner at, but the way this child moved was proving to be unorthodox. And that made her dangerously effective with her tiny vibrodaggers.

Reeka pushed as hard as she could. With her smaller size and agility it had been easy to outpace the mercenary, but she knew if he got a solid blow in she’d definitely feel it. It was highly likely that the first real blow would be the deciding factor. So she refused to give him an advantage by shifting from her positioning forms to sync her movements as much as possible.

First. Open fourth. Glissade into strike. Spinning seventh to escape retaliation…

Her mind ran through the scenarios, each step utilized for a singular purpose: outlast. Both were beginning to wind, but Reeka could hear the heavy breathing coming from the mercenary much louder than her own. She pressed harder again.

Trying to keep up with where the girl would be next was beginning to make Jon a little dizzy. He could only move so fast for a man his size, and the girl was clearly trained to use such a weakness to her advantage. He threw a gauntlet up to block a blow directed from his left, only to find himself earning a kick from his right. Before he could even at least grab the appendage the girl would spin away on her toes, that braid incessantly swiping the air around of him. A battle of attrition was not something he would choose on a bad day, but the girl was not giving him much of a choice. He attempted to coerce her into attacking by forcing his limbs to move slower than before. They were getting tired a bit, and maybe she knew that as well. She appeared to take the bait, approaching from his side before launching herself towards him. As his arm locked in preparation to strike, Jon watched as Reeka slipped her right arm through his left. He started to swing it out and aimed a direct blow against her midriff. Just as he started the movement, Reeka latched on with the arm she had woven into his. Using momentum, she kicked off of Jon’s waist and spun so she landed on Jon’s shoulder. She twisted and led Jon to the ground, his arm joints locked into a grab hold. He grimaced at the unexpected burst of pain and tried desperately to ease it by slashing at her with his free arm. A quick change of leverage and increase in pain told him that wasn’t a good idea. He waited for the daggers to find his face, but it appeared she was having to put all her weight into the hold.

“Surrender, mercenary.”

“Argh! I-I thought you were going to kill me?” Jon managed a small smile through the pain. “Decide to rebel against your parents? I remember being a kid. Good times.”

Reeka’s face moved into a smile, but the emotion was lacking in her gaze. It was an eerie sight, compounded by the squeaky voice of a small girl.

“I am going to kill you. But it would be easier if you stopped squirming around.”

“Ha! Yeah as if I’d go and let you do something like that so easy. You’re really messed up, kid. You know...I could find someone to help you. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

Reeka did not even blink.

“You must be pretty stupid if you thought that was going to work.”

Oh he had not thought it was going to work. But it had let him shift his free arm towards his belt.

“Yeea-ugh. I kind of figured. That’s the idea behind timewasters, though.”

“Timewasters? What are you--”

With a soft click, the stun grenade that had been tucked on his belt triggered. With a flick over his head, the metal orb sailed through the air. Reeka released her grip enough to throw one of her daggers at the grenade, hoping to send it farther down the corridor. Her aim was true, the dagger veering directly towards the explosive. It erupted before impact. A ring of charged particles emanated from the center and crashed into both humans. They collapsed in a pile of unconsciousness.

---

What is that throbbing? It’s like the whole universe is vibrating. Oh, that’s my head. And my arm. Is something pinching my face?

Dark blue eyes blinked away the murky panorama they tried to make sense of while a roundish lump in his peripheral prodded at Jon’s fleshy cheek. Shrill lines of binary pushed him into consciousness. Slowly getting to his feet sent a wave of pressure through his body and he winced. His eyes were already adjusted to the low light and he looked behind him at the small figure lying still knocked out from the stun grenade. She looked so small and innocent just lying there. A thought crossed his mind, but he shook his head and walked over to the holocron where it had fallen. He handed it to the astromech, who opened a compartment on itself and placed the holocron inside. Giving one last side glance at Reeka, Jon made his way out of the temple. That feeling of being watched still had not gone away. A shiver ran up his spine.

As Reeka lay spread on the cold, stone floor the air above her began to shimmer. As the force cloak fell away, the Zabrak now standing there felt a suspiration rising in him. Instead he bent down to lift the child, grasping her gently and with support. In her sleeping state Reeka curled tighter into the familiar sense of warmth of her father’s arms. He glanced at her, feeling oddly conflicted.

“Were you truly ready?” The threat of the Collective had forced him to hasten her training regiment, but even then one truth remained.

Are any of us?