On the fringes of the Outer Rim territories and famous as the one-time location of the Rebel Alliance, Hoth is a frigid world marred with fissures created from the tidal pull of Hoth’s three moons. Blanketed in a frozen ocean, massive oceanic currents beneath the southern hemisphere are the cause of constant seismic activities that result in a constantly shifting landscape of tunnels and caves.

Buried into the side of a fissure reaching hundreds of meters into the core of the planet is a network of tunnels leading into a cave. Its sole entrance is suspended within the wall of the fissure, requiring one to rappel down the dangerous crevasse and into the tunnels; one small miscalculation could send explorers descending the rest of the unmeasured height deep within the planet’s core.

Insulated under several hundred meters of ice in all directions, the cave is protected against the gale force winds and the intense snowstorms that sweep along the planet’s surface. As a result, the cave is warmer than most of Hoth’s unforgiving cold with melting icicles dangling precariously overhead. In turn, this allows for more life to grow in addition to being a promising habitat for the hulking Wampas that have been trapped this far below the surface. Beginning to thaw, it is obvious that this cave will eventually fall victim to seismic activity to disappear into the sheets of ice that surround it. Illuminating the cave’s interior with a dull blue glow, a luminous form of lichen has taken up residence among the bones of the creatures unfortunate enough to be trapped here.

Caution must be exercised if one is to navigate the slippery slopes of the cave as melted icicles drip onto the cavern’s floor surface. In one corner of the cave, the ocean water has accumulated to form a large pool, providing sustenance to the rare lumni-spice growing within the crystalline complex, never to see the blue-white sun.

Cold crept into KUDF Lieutenant Salazar’s bones, frost littered his clothes and a none too comfortable chill went down his spine every time he heard a creak or crack in the ice. It was unnerving how unstable the caverns were, but that was precisely why the General had chosen them. Having a military exercise in, what was most likely a death trap, was something only she would have done. Fear was a mind-killer and she wanted her men to have godly resolve and balls of steel. Deep down he believed that she wouldn’t have ordered them down here without good reason and without a back-up plan. At least he hoped.

“Yo, Lieutenant,” one of Salazar’s peers gave an offhand salute and delighted smirk as he approached from behind, “General wants to see ya in the command tent. Good luck.” Salazar groaned audibly. when the General summoned it usually meant something bad. He walked without delay through the camp their platoon had set up within the cave itself, moving past all other squads — as well as their amused looks — towards the General’s shelter. He stood at attention in front and before he could even announce himself an order came from inside, from Commander Sorenn: “Lieutenant, come in.”

Salazar slipped under the canvas the Commander held out for him and saw that the makeshift table was already set up, seismic data and info datapads littering its surface. There was one small bed in the corner for the Commander — since the General never slept anyway — and not much else except backpacks and climbing gear. The General and the Commander, both Jedi trained, lived a simple life to say the least.

Vorsa stood above the table, glaring at the data, calculating the multitude of outcomes of every action she planned. She wore a somewhat uncharacteristic winter uniform emblazoned with her KUDF rank insignia. Her face was dark and worried, which gave Salazar even worse chills than the cave outside.

“General, ma'am. Reporting as ordered.” Salazar clicked his boots together in a very stiff salute and maintained eye contact with the farthest wall.

“At ease, Lieutenant. Please take these with you.” She handed him a bundle of datapads haphazardly, speaking in a serious and none too friendly tone of voice, “Have them examined and analyzed by your tech. Your squad has spent the most time observing these cavers and you have the best insight and the most data from your sensors. Send me your results by oh-nine-hundred tomorrow. Dismissed.” She smiled weakly, clearly trying and failing to make nice, and turned back to her work.

Salazar gave Turel a confused look as the Guardian simply shrugged, smiled and pointed him towards the exit, again holding the canvas up for the man. As the Lieutenant literally escaped the premises, Turel rolled his eyes and turned to his mentor.

“Will you relax?” he asked with deliberate annoyance. “Most of the squads are already on edge because you are. Making him feel nervous makes it even worse.” He walked up to her right hand side, leaning on the table. Even through his clothes, his very masculine figure popped up at Vorsa like a magnet pulling metal: if she could have blushed, she would. His proximity made her even more jittery and irritated as she moved away from the table, hiding her unbecoming expression.

“I apologize if you feel me incompetent to run this operation, Commander, but the situation is what it is and it is keeping me restless. KUDF Command has no place ordering me and my men into a pit of death like this. What were they thinking? And the fact that you seem to be relaxed disturbs me far more than any of that,” she quipped a him in the same irked tone of voice.

“What can I say, Master? I have faith in your abilities, despite what you may think. I feel very comfortable in your company.” He smiled and bit down on an apple he took from his rations not a minute earlier. “Besides it is Command’s job to make our lives harder, though I must say spending time on a mission with you again has me all giddy.” He chewed on the apple with delight, making her even more flustered and annoyed. Everything about the man attracted her and drove her insane to the point of losing her focus, especially that sassy smirk. Had she the courage, she would have told him long ago, but this was neither the place nor time to do that.

The Neti groaned and trudged around the tent, frustration kicking in. Frustration at the current situation they were in, but also frustration that she was on a mission with Turel again, after a very long time, and that they were almost alone in the middle of nowhere. It was maddening. In fact she would have screamed were she allowed to, but she simply contained herself long enough to regain control of her feelings.

“It is also unnervingly cold in here. I can feel the frost crawl over my skin and this winter uniform does me little good,” she commented, trying at least to move onto another topic and keep herself focused on the moment.

Turel walked over to her and put his left hand on her shoulder. Usually she would feel at ease at his touch, calmed and serene just like so many times when they meditated and rested in the Glade of Meditation in the Praxeum. But today it only made matters worse. His touch was too intoxicating for her as it sparked their Force connection in ways telepathy never could. Her feelings would certainly skip across the ethereal bridge that joined them so strongly. He would know.

She moved away from him, rubbing the spot he touched with vigour. “Cold. Your hands are cold,” she lied, badly.

“If you’re that cold, I’ll keep you warm. Here.” he inched closer, unzipping his coat, wanting to share his body heat with her, to at least keep her leaves from withering. They had shared personal spaces before, many times. Never in a fashion she desired, but they did nonetheless.

“What are you doing?” she yelled out, clearly misunderstanding his intent. Inadvertently pushed beyond her own limit by her own imagination, Vorsa shoved the Guardian forcibly away. Turel stumbled backwards over the table and onto the icy floor behind it.

“The hell was that for?” he yelped, picking himself up and dusting his clothes off. “I just wanted to—” Vorsa’s punch to his jaw silenced him momentarily.

“That was for calling me incompetent earlier,” she replied with a raised eyebrow, rubbing her fist. “The push was for being too close.” She realized then that this might have been just what she needed: a small fist fight to get her soul burning. She always did her best work in combat or right after it.

The Neti moved back, giving her protege enough space to recuperate, and spread her feet and arms, readying for the confrontation. The Guardian stood up, clenching his aching jaw. “What the kark?! I won’t fight you.”

“You will,” she replied. “Honor demands it, as does my need to teach you some respect, my very young apprentice.” Her legs shifted closer to him, arms ready to snap at the slightest movement, but the Commander just stood there perplexed.

“If you will not fight me, I will fight you,” she lashed out with a jab which the Guardian easily deflected away. The follow up punch he could not deflect. Her uppercut landed squarely in his gut, followed closely by an elbow jab to his defending arm. The Neti pushed her apprentice back and smiled. It was a spar more than a fight: a friendly match between companions to loosen stress and pressure. They just had to make sure it didn’t spread outside the tent.

Confusion gave way to reflex as the adrenaline began to take its hold on Turel. The throbbing pain in his jaw and abdomen had triggered his primal instinct to defend himself. This fight, whatever it was, made no logical sense at the moment. It was, however, a fight and that's all the Human needed to know. Turel wasn't in the business of losing fights. The logical part of his brain took a back seat as he immersed himself in the Force and let muscle memory do the rest.

The command tent was probably not the best venue for an impromptu sparring match, it was just over seven meters by seven meters. Between the climbing gear, Turel's Spartan cot and the cluttered table in the center of the room, there was not much space to maneuver. A modest heating unit that never quite seemed to adequately warm the space hummed outside as it labored to push not-as-cold air through a ventilation flap on tent's side. Tube-shaped lighting fixtures were strung along the ceiling of the makeshift structure providing harsh artificial light.

Vorsa resumed her assault with a series of jabs from either side which Turel blocked or quickly deflected. As she pushed forward, he shifted back or to the side in an elaborate dance of unarmed combat. The Neti never pressed a barrage too hard, clearly probing the Human's defenses and provoking him to take the offensive. The master's provocations were successful as the student slowly began to stand his ground and take more risks to gain the upper hand. Turel rooted his feet in a wide stance to halt Vorsa's advance and prepped for a counter-attack.

Sensing that her opponent was no longer evading her onslaught of blows, the General shifted her body to place all her power into a right haymaker. The Human had feigned like he was going for a left body shot to tempt his opponent into attempting the risky haymaker. Calling on the Force to boost the speed and power of his muscles, Turel shifted to his right away from the incoming blow, quickly spun counter-clockwise to place his back to Vorsa while grabbing her wrist with his right hand to keep her arm extended. Once he had the leverage, he used his master's own momentum against her and executed a flawless hip toss sending her careening into the table.

Vorsa's impact with the field expedient folding table knocked it over and send maps and datapads flying all over the front half of the command tent. "You've been practicing I see." She spat as she slowly rose to her feet.

Turel beamed with pride in the light of his master's praise. "What can I say? I have a good teacher." His cocksure smile only served to inflame the Neti's passions even further.

The Human's display of competence and confidence just made him that much more desirable to the Neti which in turn raised her frustration at her own lack of emotional control. She continued to channel that frustration outward into the physical altercation. Vorsa wasn't fighting Turel as much as she was fighting to maintain control over how she felt about him. She could never slip up and let those emotions out, not even for a second. The deep bond the master and student shared through the Force made that task harder and harder by the day.

A female KUDF commando peeked her head through the flap and froze for a second unable to process the scene before her. "Is everything alright General? I heard a crash."

"Fine!" Vorsa snapped uncharacteristically before returning to a more conversational, yet authoritative tone. "Everything is fine Sergeant, return to your post." The confused commando saluted and promptly vacated the premises. Her duty officer wouldn't believe her if she told him what she had witnessed.

Turel visibly relaxed and frowned with deep concern for his master and closest friend. This wasn’t like her; something was very wrong. He caught glimpses through the Force of the turmoil she desperately was trying to hide. There was no other being in the universe, even his flesh and blood sister, that he had a deeper connection with than Vorsa. Twice he had come to her alone and utterly broken, once when he first joined Odan-Urr and again when he left Arcona after the horrors of Korriban. Both times she helped heal his wounded spirit, believed in him, and gave him the strength to stand and be the leader she knew he could be. He wanted so much to hold her in this moment and take whatever was causing her anguish away. It never occurred to him that he was the source of her frustration. She was more a near immortal goddess to him than a woman, a bright shining paragon of everything he wanted to be. The idea that she was just as imperfect and prone to surges of inconvenient emotion as he was simply eluded him. The thought she could love him as an equal seemed preposterous.

“Everything isn’t fine Master, and you know it. What’s really going on?” The Human inquired, his emerald eyes pleading.

Vorsa closed her eyes and lowered her head, she couldn't bare to see that look on his face. She involuntarily clenched her fist as she pondered a response.

She took a mere moment and seemed to relax, shoulders limping slightly, almost imitating a sigh. She could barely control herself in his presence, and she hated the feeling as much as she loved it. It was exciting, exhilarating and new, yet still somehow wrong in her mind. A vortex of emotions took over, and she could barely contain it, but she had to. And it was infuriating. Like an itch she could never scratch.

So she breathed, as Neti could only breathe, and took in the world around her, took in the Force to try calm her nerves and lash her feelings and tie them down. It was all she could do. It was all she could ever do.

Then she looked up, and his worried expression shattered the fragile glass walls that held everything down, deep inside. She could barely contain herself again. But no! She had to fight it. she had to fight him. She had to banish him from her system so that tranquility and clearness of mind could retake control, not this mess of feelings. So she smiled, like only he ever saw her smile: mischievously, playfully. It was unnerving for him. He took half a step back, unsure what she wanted to do.

“I will tell you, apprentice. I will tell you anything you want, but first you must overcome me in close combat.” Her smirk widened slightly, baiting him to accept her tempting offer.

Turel bit his lower lip, still unsure of what exactly was going on, but interested to continue. His signature smirk caressed his lips, making her skip a beat. “Anything?”

“Anything,” she replied with determination, but no less mischievously. She observed him ponder the choice, but she already knew his answer: it was bleeding through their connection all too clearly.

“Alrigh-” he managed before he felt a strong force against his chest. Vorsa’s mental shove unbalanced the Guardian enough to send him stumbling backwards and through the tent’s side. With a loud ripping sound, both he and the small electric heater he desperately tried to hold onto fell to the floor several feet from the guards. Already on alert from before, the Sergeants leveled their blasters at their Commander, only lowering them when they realized it was him.

Confused looks and accompanying shrugs were shared as the General departed the tent through the same hole Turel’s body had only just created. She was smiling, smirking even. The Sergeants looked at her then each other in bewilderment.

“Everything is alright,” Vorsa said in a calm voice, easing the situation. “The Commander and I simply have a squabble to finish.” She stepped closer as Turel picked himself up, other soldiers and officers gathering around to see what was going on.

Vorsa raised her hands slightly, making a ‘come at me’ gesture with her index finger, to which Turel gladly replied. He maneuvered closer to her in small, springy jumps. His movement was unusual but not unknown to the Neti and she caught his first jab. It was a faint, as was the second, and third. Vorsa caught on fairly easily, her apprentice clearly testing for weaknesses in her defense. An uppercut, a knee jab, a haymaker: all blocked or deflected safely away. A misstep caused Turel to lose his momentum, and Vorsa took the charge.

Suddenly, every man and woman in their unit stood around them, observing the bout. Some wore expressions of surprise or confusion, others smiled and chuckled as the punches flew. One Private laughed out loud when Vorsa slapped Turel across the cheek none too lightly.

Sweat made Turel’s clothes wet and sticky as he moved against his Master’s relentless attacks. He blocked a kick and a jab before he grabbed her arm and, once again tossed her, towards the gathered soldiers with a perfect hip toss. Panting, he approached again, ready for ‘round two’ as Vorsa picked herself up once more.

“I’m getting that truth from you, Master,” he said with that ever-handsome smirk on his lips. “You can bet on it.”

The energy of the growing throng of onlookers surged with Turel’s defiance. Some cheered the charming Commander while most pulled for their beloved General who had led them for so many years. The senior officers present were still perplexed but welcomed the distraction from the frigid conditions provided by the impromptu contest between the two ranking Jedi. Turel fed off the enthusiasm of his new audience and the prospect of a public challenge. He did not back down from a challenge.

The Human hopped from side to side on the balls of his feet as the Neti stood and dusted herself off. He had seen that look in her eye before in their countless sparring matches as master and student. It was a look that usually followed a successful blow or maneuver and said “don’t get cocky,” clearer than words ever could. Often the look preceded a dazzling display of combat prowess on Vorsa’s part with an extra helping of humility forcibly served. Turel knew what was coming next and intended on beating her to the punch.

The Neti was momentarily puzzled when the Human raised his left hand high in the air for no apparent reason. A scheming smirk crept across the student’s face, one that the master had seen countless times herself. Turel was up to something, she just knew it. There just wasn’t enough time to figure it out, she felt no warning through the Force so he wasn’t throwing an object at her. Surely he wasn’t foolish enough to try to conjure up one of his illusions.

Once he had eye contact with Vorsa, Turel lifted his left hand high into the air and turned his head with one swift motion, closing his eyes tight. A burst of intense light emanated from the Human’s left palm like a small sun he had plucked from the noon sky. The Neti and the entire crowd found themselves momentarily blinded. The General relied on her hearing and other senses to maintain her defenses but no attack came. She heard Turel’s footsteps as she called on the Force to enhance her vision. The bright red afterglow in her eyes faded within seconds and she saw not one but three Turels hopping around her in a circle. “Nicely done,” she thought to herself as her eyes darted from target to target trying to determine which was her true opponent.

The members of the crowd gasped in awe at the Commander’s impressive display. Sporadic “whoa” and “how’d he do that?” began to emanate from the mundane soldiers. Vorsa remained calm in her defensive stance as she analyzed the situation. Using the Force to affect that many minds required intense concentration, Turel’s attack would have to be simple. Knowing him like she did, the Neti was certain he would attack from behind. Vorsa smiled ever so slightly as she could feel the Human’s presence move around her in a circle. His little trick was impressive, but her spatial awareness with the ambient Force was second to none.

The Neti waited until the real Turel shifted behind her then lunged forward like she was attacking one of the dopplegangers. Just as she predicted, the Human took the bait and charged her from behind. She was more than ready for him. Channeling Force energy into her muscles for extra speed, she quickly spun around with her left hand placed on her right fist to leverage all her power into a single elbow strike. The General’s right elbow found it’s mark on the real Turel’s right cheek and sent the Guardian spinning to the ground. The clones dissipated as the Human lost his concentration.

The crowd erupted into a raucous round of cheering and applause as Vorsa placed her boot on her student’s back. “Do you yield?”

Turel spit blood into the packed snow on the cave floor. “Don’t have much of a choice now do I?”

Vorsa pressed harder into the Guardians back with a smile. “No, you do not.”

“I yield.”

The Neti lifted her boot from the Human’s back and helped him to his feet. He rubbed the fresh bruise on the side of his face. “So, how did you know which one was the real me?”

Without missing a beat Vorsa replied, “If you had won the fight, I would have told you the answer to that question.”