The Vertical City, Nar Shaddaa. They call it the Smuggler's Moon—an apt description based on the myriad of sentients shuffling back and forth with their illegal wares and hidden weapons. The narrow streets below criss-cross endlessly, soaring miles above the planet's surface. Exposed and uncovered, the streets offer a nearly perfect setting for someone with some skills with ranged weapons. A vantage point on the ledge of a towering structure of glass and steel offers a dizzying view of the cityscape.

Simple shops and merchants peddle both legitimate and illegitimate wares. Storefronts are just as plentiful as open-market pop-up tents, and the cantina's adapt the same lowlife air as the rest of the Smuggler's Moon. Enemies could be hidden in plain sight, whether one of the Hutts’ gangsters or mercenaries-for-hire looking to earn some credits. The streets are plagued with violent gangs and the general riff raff of the poor and destitute. They may be an ideal place for blasters, but the winding streets are difficult to disappear from. An opponent would be easily boxed in and simple to finish with a few quick slashes of a lightsaber. The moon is dangerous—even for one gifted in the Force.

This was a stupid idea, Erinyes thought, swirling her drink around in its glass. The Zeltron had parked herself on a stool in an “outdoor restaurant”—a glorified shack, really—after a less-than-enjoyable meeting with an arms dealer. She’d gotten the information she wanted on the Collective’s clandestine weapon shipments, yes, but she had a feeling she’d paid far more than it was worth. Rian can send someone else next time, she decided.

The rest of her drink later, Erinyes heard footsteps behind her, as though whoever approached wasn’t even trying to conceal their presence—not that it would’ve helped much if he had, she noted, when she turned and saw the stocky Sullustan male. “Can I help you?”

“I suspect so, Proconsul Ténama.” The Sullustan plopped on to the stool beside Erinyes, either oblivious or indifferent to the Zeltron’s groan. “Dek Iron’yikut of Scholae Palatinae. My contacts suggest you have access to certain information that I would be very interested to learn,” he said.

Erinyes rolled her eyes and waved to the bartender for a refill. “I’m sure you would.” The tsiraki hadn’t even gotten her buzzed yet—damn second liver—and if this Dek Iron’whatshisface had chased her all the way to Nar Shaddaa just to ask her a question, she reasoned, he probably wouldn’t be put off by her getting up and walking away.

“The so-called ‘Selen Incident’ of 19 ABY,” Dek continued. “The details of your Clan’s confrontation with Arcona were lost sometime in the intervening years.”

Erinyes raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Why in Krath’s name would anyone care about that?”

“Every engagement holds lessons for the strategist who’s capable of appreciating them,” the Sullustan said, shaking his finger for emphasis. “You might not value them in the same way, but they should be recorded for posterity nonetheless.”

“Uh huh.” The Adept slipped a credit ingot to the Ortolan bartender in exchange for her fresh tumbler of tsiraki. “It wasn’t much of an engagement. Our fleet travelled to their home system, their fleet met us in orbit around Selen, we gave each other stink-eye for a while, then dropped the whole thing when Grand Master Cotelin’s clone showed up and gave us all bigger problems. Any more details than that would be giving away classified information.”

Silence fell between the two Dark Jedi as Dek seemed to consider his next move, while the Adept resolutely focused on her drink. A few beats later, Dek leaned closer to Erinyes and dropped his voice a few decibels, as he stared a hole in the Adept. “You will tell me everything you know about the Selen Incident,” he insisted.

Erinyes hesitated for a moment, then decided that withholding the story of a non-battle two decades past wasn’t worth the effort it would take to make the Palatine pest leave her alone. “That really is all there was to the engagement. Not a very exciting ending, to something that started with–” The Adept cut herself off with a start when she realised what the pressure in her mind had been: not her usual impulsiveness, but a nudge from the Sullustan intended to make her share information against her will.

A dozen different shades and flavours of anger exploded in Erinyes’ chest. One of her lightsabers, Glamour, came to her hand unbidden, and she almost unconsciously channelled the Dark Side into her swing as the Sith weapon ignited with its characteristic snap-hiss. To his credit, Dek must have either seen or sensed the attack coming; his own green blade sprang to life a heartbeat after Erinyes’ did, angled upward as he swept sideways to deflect the blow with a duelist’s horizontal parry. Unfortunately, the Adept was simply too fast for Dek to get his blade into the proper position to blunt the attack with technique alone, and the Sullustan had never sullied himself the knowledge of how to augment his own speed or strength. Erinyes had, and thanks to applying that knowledge, her lightsaber slammed into Dek’s with much more force than her frame implied she could muster. The Sullustan, unable to regain his balance by taking a step while his rear end was planted on a bar stool, tumbled backwards and into the street, the jade-green blade of his lightsaber disappearing with a whoosh as the weapon landed on the ground beside him.

“You miserable lava rat!” Erinyes snarled as she leapt to her feet and rounded on Dek, her Core Worlder accent suddenly thick and recognisably Tapani. “You thought you could get away with rummaging about in my head?” She stalked toward the Sullustan as he tried to scramble away from her. When the crowds that filled the concourse outside the pub realised the danger, they wisely followed suit.

“You wouldn’t have done the same in my place?” Dek’s voice was steady with self-righteousness as he began his lecture with his chin held high. His movements were shaky, though, and to Erinyes’ eye, he didn’t seem particularly well-coordinated as he hauled himself to a stand.

Erinyes scoffed. “No, because I’m not a bloody idiot. Go on, pick it up. You can at least entertain me whilst I decide whether to kill you.” She gestured to Dek’s lightsaber with her own.

Dek tilted his head to one side as he stooped to retrieve his weapon. “Interesting. Despite the clear dominance of Core Worlds culture in the Human power centres of the galaxy, you dissociate yourself from it by hiding your accent. I wonder if you would’ve done the same under the Empire.” The Sullustan straightened up and re-ignited his lightsaber with a flourish—the classic “Makashi salute”—then assumed his combat stance.

That was all the invitation Erinyes needed to begin her assault. The Force-granted boost to her strength had faded during her banter with Dek, and the Adept didn’t bother to renew it. Instead, she began probing her opponent’s defences with light but rapid two-handed strikes. Dek met each of Erinyes’ whirling blows with a raised or lowered arm and a deft flick of his wrist, but offered only enough ripostes of his own to keep his opponent at bay. The Sullustan’s form was excellent, Erinyes noted, and he possessed enough insight to avoid falling for her attempts to feint past his guard, but his execution seemed to perpetually lag behind. Parries that should’ve been effortless counters were reduced to “effective but awkward” by coming a half-beat too slow.

After seeing how he fought, Erinyes suspected she could overwhelm Dek’s defences through speed alone—except for the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around the duel, some of whom displayed a heinous lack of survival instincts by standing barely a step out of lightsaber range. Speed only mattered if she had enough space to use it, the Adept knew, and the crowd was pressed in so close that she’d practically have to body-check them aside to maneuver properly. To make matters worse, she already felt her heart pounding and sweat beading on her brow from the exertion, while the Sullustan wasn’t even breathing heavily.

Judging by his reluctance to take the offensive, it seemed to Erinyes that Dek had realised the same thing she had: if he could outlast her, he’d win the battle, and could coerce her into giving up the information he wanted. She also suspected that Dek’s obvious preoccupation with tactics and strategy had led him to choose Nar Shaddaa as the place he’d approach her, specifically because the “terrain”—such as it was—would be in his favour. None of that really mattered now, though; the important part was that it was time for Erinyes to change tactics.

“You’re rather proud of being a walking databank, aren’t you?” The Adept switched to a one-handed grip on her lightsaber, fingers low on the hilt to give her a little bit of extra reach that would help counter Dek’s fighting style, and tossed a few lackadaisical strikes at the Sullustan to keep him on the defensive. “Have you ever wondered how you’d handle it if you were to lose all that knowledge?”

“That would never happen. Even if I die, my notes and records will be preserved,” Dek said, with the same self-righteous confidence as before.

Erinyes raised her eyebrows. “Are you saying you’ve written down everything you’ll ever want to remember? Because a solid thump to the head can do nasty things to one’s memory. Spending the rest of your life thinking about all the things you used to know and never got around to recording seems a dreadful fate for someone who values knowledge so dearly.” Dun Möch, the venerable Sith practice of talking kark until the opponent loses their nerve, was one of the Adept’s favourite techniques.

“I’d be a lot more worried about that if any of your attacks had landed,” Dek snorted.

“Is that so?” Erinyes unleashed the stored power of her Marauder’s trance and lunged forward with a simple overhand strike that, she anticipated, Dek would see coming a kilometre away. Sure enough, Dek shifted his lightsaber to intercept the blow, and was even on course to parry it—until Erinyes’ lightsaber blade vanished and reappeared inside his guard. The Sullustan jerked backward in panic as the menacing hum of the Adept’s weapon loomed large in his oversized ear. By the time he’d repositioned his arm to deflect Erinyes’ attack, the blade had vanished again, reappearing on the other side of his head as though Erinyes had been cutting through empty space all along.

The Adept took a step back and lazily twirled her lightsaber, clucking her tongue in disappointment. “Asking how you were going to get the information you wanted out of me is the wrong question. What you should be asking yourself is, ‘is there anything else I’ve miscalculated?’ That’s the question that’s going to keep you alive.” Erinyes lunged forward again, lightsaber still twirling to obscure her angle of attack.

Out of desperation, spite, or both, Dek thrust his free hand at the Adept and growled something in Sullustese. Suddenly, Erinyes was wracked with searing pain from head to toe, and bit back a scream as spasms of agony ran through her. The sensation only lasted a moment, but even that moment was enough to throw the Adept’s attack off and buy Dek a much-needed margin for error.

So that’s what he was holding back, Erinyes thought, growling in irritation as she re-oriented herself. A few steps away, Dek’s spirits seemed lifted, but his newfound cheer was tempered by the knowledge that the battle wasn’t yet over.

Dek made the Makashi salute, egging her on with a smirk. He went in for a small slash, easily blocked by a flick of her wrist and countering with a harsh attack of her own. Slowly building up and letting go, she continued to quickly pulsate her hits. Within seconds they had turned into slams which Dek found continual difficulty in trying to block. When the Adept swung her saber for his feet, forcing the Battlelord to take a swift step over to his right. Within a blindingly fast second, she had thrust clumsily up in a diagonal motion, forcing Dek to block a swing he was ill-prepared to face. Using his side-stepping momentum against him, she grasped with both hands on her saber and pushed the Sullustan further into his step.

The Scholaean tripped over his feet, rolling on the ground towards the edge of the crowd. Seraine lifted her saber into the air to strike Dek down, but on his final roll he had dropped his saber in favor of picking up his blaster rifle, which had slipped off his body. He quickly wrapped his fingers around the trigger and hand-hold. As he lifted the rifle, the sling slapped him across the face. Unperturbed he held the the sight lines in direction to her skull.

Sensing the danger, she quickly brought up a wavy wall which absorb the couple shots he placed. A plunging sound was heard as he shot the emp grenade at the barrier. The tingling sensation was waves through the crowd, temporarily discomforting the people surrounding them.

The Taldryanite was only phased for a split second, letting the barrier down. As soon as she had done so, a Togrutan member of the crowd launched himself at her, grasping onto her and trying to pull her down. A Twi’lek ran over and tried to kick the Proconsul in the shin, but she used her own leg to sweep the Twi’lek’s away. Other members of the crowd looked around in confusion.

“Get off me, fools!” Shouted Erinyes.

She looked down to Dek, still lying on the ground with outstretched hands focusing deeply onto Erinyes.

“What are you playing at, Dekkie?!” She angrily inquired.

Unresponsive to her, other members of the crowd jumped on the opportunity to fight with each other or attack Erinyes. One member of the crowd pulled out a blaster and shot another person in the ruckus. This forced a full fledged riot to occur.

Erinyes turned off her lightsaber, turning the emitter to the person behind her and pierced the Togrutan through his chest. Slumping to the floor, the crowd was immediately dispelled of their anger towards the Zeltron and ran in horror. It was in this moment that Dek had slung the blaster back over his body and summoned his saber back to him, immediately decapitating the person who wielded the blaster against another.

“I underestimated you, Dek. It will be the last time.”

“I don’t plan on continuing to try. This ends now,” the Battlelord yelled over the rummaging of the fleeing crowd.

The barmaster near them had dragged his table and chairs back inside, spilling what was left of the Pronconsul’s drink onto the ground. Erinyes scowled. “Ya spilled my drink, Dek! Not only did I pay for that, but you’ve basically committed a crime against all the livers of the Zeltron people!”

“Enough talk,” the Battlelord retorted.

Erinyes shook her head at Dek’s command. “That’s not a good idea. See, when I stop talking, I start putting all of my energy into fighting, and… well, you’re not faring so well as it is.” Beneath her flippant demeanour, the Adept eyed the open space that had formed around her and her opponent. The crowd’s panicked retreat had already started to slow, and a few adventurous souls had even turned back to continue watching the fight.

Then the Sullustan thrust one hand toward her, and Erinyes’ eye twitched at the thought of being subjected to another mind-screw. “You just don’t learn, do you?” Gathering the power of her Marauder’s trance, the Adept darted forward with such speed that, to her eyes, the very environment became a blur. She launched herself skyward as she closed in on Dek, twisting in midair as she prepared to strike from above—but suddenly, she felt an invisible weight unwrap itself from her body and flutter away, as though her cloak had come unfastened mid-flight.

A warning rippled through Erinyes’ mind, quieter and more hurried than usual, and she realised that the sensation of a “weight” fluttering away from her had been the Sullustan interfering with her connection to the Force. Her suspicion was confirmed by a brand-new feeling of exertion—her Marauder’s trance weighing on her energy reserves in a way it hadn’t before—as she slashed down at her opponent’s forehead. Dek raised his own lightsaber in response, but the Sullustan’s divided concentration made his parry sloppy. Even the advance warning granted by the Force only bought Dek enough time to deflect Erinyes’ lightsaber from his forehead to the strap that secured his blaster rifle. The Sullustan grunted in pain as the tip of Erinyes’ weapon grazed his shoulder, carving a smoking hole in his pauldron and revealing a patch of angry red skin beneath the damaged garment.

Erinyes’ world accelerated back into a blur as Dek’s concentration broke and her Force connection returned to full strength. The Adept landed effortlessly on one knee and smirked past her own heavy breathing when she heard the Sullustan’s rifle clatter to the ground. “Getting desperate, are we?”

“You’re really that happy about a scratch?” Dek set his jaw and turned side-on to his opponent, arm and lightsaber extended to keep her as far away as possible from his wounded shoulder.

“Happy? You’ve barely given me a challenge, and the fight’s basically over.” Erinyes sighed.

Dek smirked, then raised his voice to the bystanders clustered behind Erinyes. “She’s going to kill you all!” A murmur of consternation ran through the crowd, who had been pressing ever closer to the fight this entire time, and warnings of dark intentions spilled into the Adept’s mind.

“Not this again…” Erinyes turned to face the addled fools, lightsaber angled to catch a blaster bolt and return it to its origin—a Nikto gunslinger who, judging by how he stood practically still until his own shot bit into his gut, was clearly used to dropping targets before they could return fire. Behind her, Erinyes heard the shwoop of a deactivating lightsaber, and the rest of the weaponised onlookers hesitated when they saw the Nikto collapse with a gurgle. The sounds of footsteps and a clattering object came a moment later, and Erinyes smiled to herself at the mental image of the Sullustan tripping over his blaster rifle as he ran for his life. She even allowed herself to be distracted by a shapely Pantoran woman lurking on the edge of the crowd, until her Marauder’s combat sense growled that something was amiss.

Several paces away, a stream of blaster bolts spewed from the muzzle of Dek’s rifle. The first pair of shots collided with Erinyes’ lightsaber, sending orange and violet sparks in every direction, but the Adept quickly abandoned that strategy in favour of diving for cover behind a nearby vendor cart. She’d never had the patience to learn a lightsaber Form that embraced the “play blaster wallball until your attacker runs out of ammo” mentality, which left her hard-pressed to deflect automatic fire, even with a lightsaber in each hand.

A few more bolts slammed into the opposite side of the vendor cart, but the fusillade stopped as soon as Dek realised his shots would be wasted. Come on, Erin, think this through, the Adept chided herself, her ragged breathing almost drowning out the drumroll of her heartbeat—only to snort out loud a moment later. Why start now? Drawing the Force into her body, the Adept launched herself up and over the vendor stall. She’d barely cleared the top of the cart before she sensed Dek drawing a bead on her with his rifle, intending to time his shot for the apex of her jump, when Erinyes would be suspended in mid-air.

The spray of automatic fire came precisely on schedule—and slammed into the Force-field that Erinyes had raised around herself while she let her momentum carry her through the air. The invisible aegis lasted just long enough under the ping-ping-ping-ping of Dek’s blaster shots for Erinyes to ignite her second lightsaber and unleash her Marauder’s battle-trance. The Adept threw herself into a corkscrew spin, and the shimmer in the air in front of her was replaced by a brilliant violet glow as she brought her lightsabers up to shield herself.

Even Erinyes’ preternatural agility could only do so much against such a high volume of fire, though, and she bit back a cry when two of Dek’s shots grazed her side and her thigh. Unbalanced by building fatigue and fresh injuries, the graceful landing Erinyes had planned was transformed into an awkward somersault, but her flight had done its job: she was within lightsaber range of her opponent. Alarm spread across Dek’s features as he backpedalled away from the Adept, but not before Erinyes lunged forward and slashed his blaster rifle in half.

The Sullustan growled and threw the pieces of his ruined weapon at his opponent in a desperate attempt to buy himself enough time to draw his lightsaber. Luckily for him, it had taken Erinyes a moment to re-compose herself and banish the pain of her injuries, which gave Dek the opportunity to conjure his jade-green blade. Erinyes darted forward, visibly slower than before but still faster than Dek could hope to match, thanks to her Marauder’s trance. The Adept chopped downward with her main-hand lightsaber, and the Sullustan raised his weapon to parry by reflex. The blades crashed against each other, and the resignation in Dek’s features turned to suspicion when Erinyes didn’t pull the same Tràkata bypassing-his-guard trick he’d come to expect.

That split-second of hesitation was all the time Erinyes needed to flip her off-hand lightsaber into a reverse grip and slam the hilt into Dek’s armpit with all the Force-enhanced strength she could muster. The Sullustan’s beady eyes went even wider, and something like a cry of pain escaped his throat as his upper arm moved in a direction that a Sullustan’s upper arms weren’t supposed to move. His lightsaber dropped from the fingers of his now-useless hand, and with far more concentration than should’ve been necessary, Erinyes used the Force to fling the weapon off the edge of a nearby catwalk.

With a sigh of relief and exhaustion, Erinyes deactivated her lightsabers and took a step back, allowing Dek to collapse in pain. Truth be told, collapsing sounded like a damn good idea to Erinyes; the only thing stopping the Adept from taking a nap right then and there was the fact that she’d probably be robbed the second she closed her eyes. For several seconds, neither Dark Jedi moved, as Erinyes tried to catch her breath and Dek struggled to block out the pain of his injuries.

Finally, the Sullustan managed to growl a sentence out. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I’m tempted, but no. Cleaning up the diplomatic incident I’d cause by killing a member of another Clan would take far more effort than I’m willing to spend. Besides, I can respect someone who charges into a situation headfirst with no regard for the odds.” Erinyes slid her lightsabers back into their wrist slings as she turned to leave. “If you’re smart, you won’t give me a reason to regret that.”

“There’s never enough talk.” By this point Erinyes was quite tired, and Dek looked like he could go for at least ten more rounds of this.

Her sweat had pooled near her brow. She could smell a slight stench waft over them. Sniffing, she immediately knew it had come from her. While Dek awaited the first move, clearly deciding to take a moment to discuss strategy with himself, she let the sweat pool in place. As her body cooled down, her mind slowed pace and was allowed to recoup itself ever so slightly.

A speeder swooped past them, kicking up multiples scents towards Dek. Blood. Death. A unique scent. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Dek,” the Proconsul was first to speak, “We don’t have to do this.” She slowed her speech to fit a tired tone, groaning along with the semantics, “You want...information. I want to,” she thought about her words for a split second, “...have fun.” She stood up straight and slumped her hip to the side, resting her body on one leg, jutting out her waist ever so slightly. She placed one hand on the jutting hip and her other hand twirling her lightsaber in her hand.

The Sullustan scrunched his face together. He felt good, slightly more relaxed, and agreeable. He still desperately wanted that information, but seemingly was caught off guard. He could sense what he thought were her open thoughts. The Zeltron did want to have fun, but that could simply be a surface emotion and a reminder of the drink. The swinging hips, the twirling of a long, silver cylinder, and the smell. Such a unique smell. He had to find out where it came from.

“Is that...you?” Iron’yikut said softly.

“I am me, yes,” the Adept responded with a laugh. She breathed in and let out a heavy sigh.

“No...uhh...what I meant,” the Sullustan relaxed his form ever so slightly, stumbling over his own words.

“You’re right, sir,” Seraine smiled and tilted her head to Dek, letting some of the sweat drain off of her hair onto the bodies below them.

Dek squinted, but responded, “Right? I’m right? Right about wh...umm...what?”

“Enough talk, is what I believe you said. More action. But it doesn’t have to be here.”

Dek fought back an urge he hadn’t felt in months. It was uncomfortable. It was new. The war with the Collective had left little time for doing things of a more carnal pursuit. Yet he remained focused, if only ever so distracted.

“You aren’t going to teach me?” She moaned.

“You aren’t going to,” she sighed again, “dominate me?”

Dek simply couldn’t take it any longer, he needed to act now. “If this is true, then let me inside of your mind.”

She tsk'ed, “You know I can’t do that, Dekkie. Not yet at least.” The Zeltron lowered her head to the ground and looked up at Dek, bringing a smirk of her own lips.

“Fwec!” Dek cursed to himself.

“No...the information...the Selen Incident!” He stepped to the side, but a form of himself remained. He stepped to the side again, leaving another form. He continued to do this as Erinyes’ smirked disappeared.

“I was willing to work with you Dek, not against you. But I see that you’re more impotent than I thought.”

By now, six Dek’s had surrounded her and walked in similar patterns.

“Clearly, there’s only one of you,” Erinyes laughed.

She called her other saber to her hand, and activated both of them. She looked at every Dek. One had a bead of sweat on his brow. She swung both blades at him, “Not you, sweaty Dek! You wouldn’t be that tired!” The form disappeared into a colorful mist.

Five remained.

One lunged at her and instead of dodging she let that one simply fall through her.

“The direct attack? Unlikely,” she chuckled.

Four were left. Erinyes noticed two were shaking and two were not. However, one had a bronze hilt and one had a black hilt. The other two had a bronze hilt.

The black hilted Dek dissipated. She eyed the rest of the three, “You’re catching on, Dek.”

At that moment all three Dek’s attacked. Seraine launched one of her sabers out through the air towards one Dek, forcing him to disappear. The other was sliced into oblivion, leaving one Dek remaining. He thought he saw an opening when he sense immediate danger and tried to duck. The telekinetic saber had grazed him along the shoulder and returned to her hand. She immediately swung the saber towards his neck, but stopped just short.

She spared no anger. “Deactivate your saber, or your head comes off.”

“Please don’t behead me,” he begged.

“Who said anything about your skull?” She grinned, nostrils flaring and eyebrows pointed towards her nose.

Fearing for his well-being, he deactivated the saber.

“Give me your palm, outstretched,” she commanded.

He did so reluctantly.

She then took her other saber and set it to a lower setting, slowly moving it closer to his hand.

“Come after me again and I will turn you into the decaying Togrutan next to you. Move, and your hand with be lost.”

His eyes darted down to the lifeless body that lay beside him. With intense warmth, he felt the pain of the lightsaber grinding into the top layer of his palm. He started to breath heavily, looking down at the searing flesh in his hand. A lone tear appeared at the edge of his eye.

She lifted the saber from the edge of his skin, admiring the black dot that remained. Dek’s hand was shaking.

She deactivated both sabers and placed them on her belt.

“Now give me 400 credits,” she demanded.

“For what?” Dek blurted out clumsily.

“I need to be satiated,” she lied to him.

He put his hand in his pocket and threw around 30 credit chits into her face and bolted in the opposite direction. Erinyes chuckled, not having any desire to chase him down. He got the picture, she thought to herself.

By this point the barkeep brought the table and chair back out, and placed a new drink on the table. Erinyes schlepped over and sat at the stool, dropping all 30 chits into his hand.

“Keep ‘em coming,” she demanded.