Lightning shatters the sky and strikes the spire atop the cloning complex towering before anyone who steps off their ship and onto the rain-slick landing platform. Kamino, the Planet of Storms, is known for its roiling seas and constant torrential downpour. The fall of the Galactic Empire hit the planet’s primary export of military cloning projects extremely hard, but the Kaminoans remained afloat, both figuratively with contracts to galactic warlords, and literally with the brilliant engineering of their iconic seaborne cities.

The initial landing pad is a wide circle designed to accommodate a variety of ships, and is connected to a series of other platforms as well. Every surface is slick with rain, but avoids flooding due to the sloped edges that allow the water to run off into the sea below and away from the centerpoint.

The cloning facility’s exterior is characterized by similar slopes, and raindrops rapidly transform into steam as they touch against the series of lightning rods around the platform, much like they would if they dripped onto a lightsaber blade.

History tells of the fateful encounter between Obi Wan Kenobi and renowned Bounty Hunter Jango Fett. The doors of the facility are sealed, which means that whatever challenge awaits you, will have to be faced in the heart of the omnipresent rainstorm.

Thank you for warp speed! Now, to get the frak out of here. Zujenia thought between her deep, steady breaths as the shuttle shakily touched down. The force flickered and weaved, writhing around her being as she had commanded it an hour or so ago, hiding her from detection via the Force. She has improved on the feat, it was indeed one of the first powers she had ever accessed, but frankly the Half-Ryn did not wish to test how long she could hide her presence on this craft.

Which lead her to ask herself again, why exactly was she on the House Galeres’ Quaestor’s vessel in the first place. A mission, always a mission.

The Knight had been called into the office of her own House’s leader with Terran Koul sitting there, legs crossed on top of his disarrayed desk. The Kiffar had noted the quickly growing and adapting Shadow, evaluating her as capable for infiltrating Braecen Kaeth’s hanger and reconing any information that may connect the Galeren to the assaults on Arcona. Thus, Zujenia had found herself scrambling into a small compartment, knees scrunched up into her chest, which, by the way, was now a really cramped position, as the owner of the spaceship came waltzing in.

Her ears twitched as footsteps drew her from her thoughts and back into the iron hull of the shuttle. Zujenia peered through the three slits in the compartment’s door with dark amber eyes, watching a pair of heavy boots and dark clothing past by. A moment later, she heard the familiar clunk swoosh of the pressurized hatch, followed by the sounds of howling wind and pouring rain.

...One hundred forty-eight...One hundred forty-nine...One hundred fifty.

Having started her countdown as soon as she heard the large door hiss shut, Zujenia had waited, her stomach clenching slightly in anxiety of her upcoming actions. Pushing against the poor with her left hand, it popped from its magnetic lock, swinging open with a slight squeak. A strand of hair fell in front of her face as she crawled out of the tight space, grimacing as her muscles and joints ached. Turning the latch shut behind her before returning her attention to the realm of the Force, reaching out tendrils of it within a fifty foot radius, searching for any humanoids within the area.

“Errhm,” a clearing of a voice behind her failed to warn her prior to the Force, her mind’s eye in the field affixing upon the glowing energy the possessed the physical body the voice belonged to. The Half-Ryn jumped, twisting around like a spurred Tuskcat, gaze locking onto one Braecen Kaeth, who was standing between her and the ship’s exit.

What? When did he?... Amber eyes trailed past the taller Human, alighting upon two alcoves near either side of the exit. Zujenia slapped herself mentally as she realized the foolish mistake she made, she should've checked for his presence prior to exiting the small compartment.

“You are...Atyiru’s apprentice, correct? Zujenia was it? What are you doing on my ship?” Braecen’s eyes furrowed as he waited for the Knight’s response, arms crossed. Blood pumped behind Zujenia’s ears as she flipped through a thousand things to say, unsure of how this man may act either one, hopefully not with any violence.

“I...I snuck on your shuttle as a dare.” the Half-Ryn stood while speaking, one hand lightly brushing the steel wall, the other relaxed just behind her, and near the vibroblade on her belt. Her electrostaff hung beside her slugthrower, yet the close quarters in this small hallway would restrict her movement. “I know, it was a childish thing to do especially for, uh, knight, sir. It will not happen again--”

“Enough.” Kaeth’s stern voice cut through her swift-spun lie, leaving the Shadow to stare blankly at him. “I’m well aware you had greater attentions here. Now speak.”

Zujenia’s eyes darted back and forth from their metal surroundings and the Quaestor. Her hand bumped into her vibroblade’s hilt, fingers curling around it, tight, longing, scared. Before she pulled the weapon from her it’s sheath, a realization pinged in her mind. Galeres was a more militia styled unit, perhaps, the Half-Ryn’s eyes narrowed as she soften her hold, he will understand orders.

“I am unable to disclose the reason behind being here.” she flashed her gaze onto his, her resolve to get out of here alive was creeping in over her fear. “I believe you can understand this.”

“Understood.”

The hull was fell into a pregnant silence as the two individuals stood, watching each other, evaluating the other and unwilling to back down. The low lights lining the walls flickered as a strong gust of wind rattled the ship’s frame. Zujenia’s heart jumped, dancing rapidly in the suspense as she wondered whether the Human was going to launch an attack or if she should make a break for it. She put herself into a pattern of deeper breathing, attempting to calm her nerves, calling upon the Force to coax it.

“I may make my leave here.”

“Of course.” Kaeth nodded, stepping behind him and slightly to his side, arm outstretched, gesturing to the door.

The Knight slowly proceeded past him, battling the urge to grab one of her weapons for protection. A wave of warning from the Force flashed through her body, guiding Zujenia to shift her weight in time to react as Braecen launched towards her. She instinctively dropped into a deep stance, left leg swiftly sliding back. Her right hand wrapped around his wrist, left hand grasping on beneath it, she twisted her body into the man as her arms rotated his in a large arc, propelling the larger humanoid to the ground.

Making no haste, Zujenia headed for the door. A sudden jerk on her ankle left her finding herself falling face first onto the decking. She grimaced at the fresh scrape on her cheek, wrenching her torso around to lock onto her assailant. Braecen towered above her, one hand casually wiping dust of his robes, eyes burned into her with fighting intent.

“Impressive, martial arts skills.” he reached into his garbs, pulling out two elongated cylinders. “You may leave, Zujenia, but only after you’ve demonstrated the skills the Shadow Lady saw in you.”

The Half-Ryn swallowed, as two blaring white sabers snapped and hissed to life.

“This is your chance to make your name. A single thrust, and you will send a reputation into the Brotherhood before you. Other Shadesworn, even Elders, will whisper your name as you pass by. ‘Zujenia,’ they all will say. ‘The girl who slew Braecen!’ Is this not what you desire?” His sapphire eyes turned on her as he advanced, his gait martial, and his grip tight on the weapons in hand.

The Half-Ryn looked to her right, then her left, before she made the decision to dash from the Sith Adept’s path into the torrential rain outside. The wind howled a continuous single tone, the rain stung as it pelted down on the combatants, and lightning forked through the night sky – shattering the darkness in its wake. A terrible thunder reverberated throughout the makeshift arena, but whether it was from the tumultuous storm or the roiling seas, one could not tell.

Metal slick with rain stretched across the entire landing platform. The shuttle had been set down on the edge, leaving most of the wide circle open to the rain, wind, and the pair of Shadesworn. Connected to a series of other platforms, the edges roll downward to shed the water from both the seas and the sky. It was not an ideal surface to make an escape on, but it provided the Knight a level playing field – an equalizer. Despite his skill, the Adept would have to tread carefully or risk slipping on the surface and presenting an opportunity for Atyiru’s Apprentice to strike.

Braecen came on then, in a fury Zujenia had never before known. His purpose was not to kill, but to defeat the Knight before him, to utterly shatter her defiance, to steal the deception he sensed in her words with a fighting display too impressive to be anything but obedient. Braecen was brilliant. He followed every move with three others and worked Zujenia high and low, inside and out wide. Zujenia found her heels under her more often than the balls of her feet, too involved was she in staying away from the Elder’s relentless thrusts to even think of taking the offensive. She allowed Braecen to continue the initiative for many minutes, dreading its conclusion, the outcome she had already decided to be the most preferable.

She found that she could delay no longer. She sent one end of her electrostaff too wide in a lazy counter thrust, and Braecen promptly slapped the weapon out of her hands. Even as the Elder came on in anticipation of victory, Zujenia slipped into her preferred stance and reached for the wrist of the Sith.

“Not this time, Knight!” Braecen proclaimed, keeping his attacks under control, remembering well the not so distant moment where she had dumped him on his back. Resolute, she feigned her disadvantage until she could turn it into a clear advantage. She darted backwards, giving ground, as he advanced his attack sequence with a cold precision. The Quaestor pressed her through another sequence. Then another. He came in low and hard with a single thrust – sure of his absolute victory.

Though Zujenia was distracted, from continually surveying her surroundings, she still managed to jump over the oncoming attack. In the same lightning movement, she slipped her left hand outward to grab the over-extended, lunging foe by the back of the neck and assisted him forward. The momentum tipped the scale of Physics, and the Corellian crashed face first into the cold, wet metal flooring beneath their feet. He tumbled perilously close to the edge, but found purchase on a raised lip encircling the landing pad. Had he not, he would have disappeared into the cold, dark waters below.

Her feet came down firmly on the ground, slipped, then recovered in the span of a heartbeat. Her thick, wild white hair was pulled into a braid, but was matted against her skin from the rain. Her tan skin was slick to the touch, but the blue hue underneath appeared polished under the influence of the elements. But the one thing that could not be dulled by Kamino were her dark amber eyes – they burned with a rare vitality. She raced forward to grab her weapon of choice; previously discarded in a gambit to lure the Elder towards the edge and pitch him over the side.

She turned towards the prone Elder, surprised to find him already on his feet, but not advancing on her as he had before. A chill ran down her spine as the power of the Dark Side tickled her senses; the power radiating from the Dark Adept.

He opened himself to the power of the Dark Side of the Force. The power boiled in the pit of his stomach and flooded him with an avalanche of nausea. He felt it pulse through his veins like molten lava and set his skin afire with omnipotent potential. The power was heady and swirled about him like a tempest that could rival the brutal storm that raged about both combatants. A well of Dark Side power, he was an Elder of the Brotherhood in full form.

Zujenia tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

Blood pounded behind Zujenia’s ears as primitive fear flooded over her. She gaped at the nauseating waves of dark energy, backpedaling, gaze darting furiously for an exit. The sound of water splashing and small reverberating thuds on the metal decking shot the Half-Ryn’s focus back onto her opponent. Braecen was advancing quickly at an alarming speed, swift, powerful strides carrying him, white sabers held firmly at his sides.

Ice blue eyes flared connecting to the Knight’s golden ones with a shock, jolting Zujenia into movement. Spinning around, Force energy biting at her heels, she hightailed it away, barely maintaining her balance as the balls of her feet rolled over the slippery platform. Her head whipped around, still desperately searching for an escape. The Half-Ryn’s gaze alighted upon a pair of heavy durasteel blast doors. She veered quickly, beelining beside the Galeres Quaestor’s space vessel.

The hair on her nape rose, tingling with waves of warning sent through the Force as Zujenia neared the end of the shuttle. The half-Ryn twisted towards her right, two blaring lines of light slicing the space she had previously occupied. The soles of her feet skidded across the deck, halting a few meters away. Lightning etched itself across the sky above them, it’s light highlighted their beings, thunder cackling.

I’m not dying here! Zujenia screamed within her mind, her face flighty but hard and focused upon Braecen’s, who was enveloped in pure emotion, dead set determination. She hopped backwards, dodging left, right, right, and left as waves of forewarning hitting her before every swinging trail of saber.

Her knuckles white from the death grip she had on her electrostaff, Zujenia flicked her wrist, sending a sparking end forward, blocking a thrust. Reversing with a swift snap, she parried away a second strike aimed for her midsection. The Half-Ryn snarled with a sort of survival vitality not unlike a cornered animal as she continued to dodge and block the Elder’s heightened advances.

The Human spun, raising both sabers high above him, and brought them down heavily upon the Knight. Zujenia wedged the leading end of her staff firmly against the blades, energy crackled and bit at the other weapons. Her breath grew shallow, fatigue wrapping its arms across her lungs, coaxing her to desire a break, a rest. The Shadow’s forearms shook from the strenuous activity, trying to match his strength with no avail, white lightsabers inching closer and closer towards her tan skin.

This...this is it, the dreaded realization passed over her, inviting with it tendrils of sinister power The dark side whispering into her mind, smooth and seductive, tempting the Half-Ryn to dip into it’s wondrous reserves. Zujenia glared into the cold eyes of Braecen, contemplating, tasting the power. It rolled on her tongue with a bitter taste, one that was quickly shoved away when the voice of a certain Miraluka danced inside.

A roar of a yell bubbled its way out of her throat as she dropped onto her rear, using the might and momentum of her opponent to slide her over the slick surface. She yanked her arm around in a manner that shot a scream of protest from her shoulder, attempting to whip her electrostaff against his leg as she passed under him.. His iron solid stance wrenched it from Zujenia’s grip, detonating a short inhale through her teeth as her shoulder dislocated, over extended past its limits.

Through one unclenched eye, Zujenia watched as the edge of the platform approached rapidly. She scrambled around with her legs, her right arm, uninjured, dug into the decking attempting, and finally, finding purchase, halting what would have been an ugly descent. The Knight pulled herself onto her knees and hand, left arm cradled gingerly against her chest. Her body rocked with vicious shivering, the high of adrenaline cooling down, exposing her to the temperature of the elements.

The Half-Ryn’s breath caught with every splish thud of a heavy footstep placed strong and sure against the rain-drenched steel. She slid her left knee forward, attempting to gather herself into an upright position. Zujenia hadn’t even drawn herself to kneel when Braecen’s hand clasped her chin roughly, lifting it gruffly for her amber gaze to meet his.

“Now then, tell me what you were doing on my ship.” His ice blue ice bit into her and she gasped at his firm hold, “...or you may depart from this world with your locked tongue.”

Images flashed through her mind, pain or fear induced, she didn’t know. Scenes of Mother and her sparring in their home’s yard, picnics with Father and her adopted sister Xerra in sun-lit fields. Tears welled in her eyes as she bit down on her lip. She would rather die than to betray her new loyalties, than to allow such an ugly man to put an end to those who may one day stop him. Zujenia swallowed before spitting into his face a few mere centimeters away.

A growl fled from his clenched teeth and he yanked her head down, throwing her off balance and onto the decking, her jaw crashing against the metal. Zujenia grimaced looking up to give one last defiant look before the blunt end of a brass and black colored saber hilt contacted with her skull.

Braecen Kaeth straightened up, lifting his palm above his forehead, watching yet another tendril of lightning snake across the sky. A sigh escaped him and he bent down, gathering the unconscious Half-Ryn in his arms. The Galeres Quaestor made his way back to his ship, eyes brimming with annoyance of this hindrance, unable just to leave the Knight lying on the ground. There would be too many questions if she was missing.

And the hatch closed with a hiss and bang.

“I want no fight,” Zujenia offered firmly. “Take your shuttle and be gone, on your word alone that you will not pursue this matter futher.”

Braecen’s mocking laughter sent a shudder up the Half-Ryn’s spine. “I’ll chase you to the ends of the galaxy, Knight!” Braecen roared. “And I will find you every time. No hole is deep enough to keep me from you. No sea is wide enough. I’ll have you, Ryn. I’ll have you now or, if you run, I’ll have you later!” He hoped his manic speech would force her to stop holding back – to demonstrate what she had learned as the Shadow Lady’s prodigy.

Resigned there was no alternative, Atyiru’s pupil cautiously stalked toward Braecen. A sudden rush brought her close and her electrostaff swiped wildly. Braecen hopped back. A second strike promised similar results, but Zujenia, instead of following through, came with a deceptively quick backhand that glanced Braecen’s chin.

She was on Braecen in an instant, her weapon whipping furiously every which way. “Stand still!” Zujenia cried as Braecen deftly sidestepped, hopped over, or ducked under each blow. Braecen knew that he was taking a dangerous chance in not countering the wicked blows, but he hoped that if he could tire the feisty woman, he might still find a permanent resolution to their issue.

Zujenia was agile and quick for a Half-Ryn, but Braecen was far quicker with the Force as an ally, and the Corellian believed that he could play the game a good while longer. The polearm came in a side swipe, diving across at Braecen’s chest. The attack was a feint, with Zujenia wanting Braecen to duck under so that she might kick the Elder in the face.

Braecen saw through the deception. He leaped instead of ducked, turned a somersault above the driving staff, and came down heavily, even closer to the Journeyman. Now Braecen did wade in, punching with both lightsaber pommels straight into Zujenia’s face. She staggered backward, feeling warm blood rolling out of her nose.

“Surrender,” Braecen said sincerely. “Go back to your Master and tell her you failed. Tell her you have much more to learn.”

If Braecen believed that Zujenia would surrender in the face of further humiliation, he was badly mistaken. She bellowed in rage and charged straight in, dipping her shoulder in an attempt to bury her opponent. Braecen pounded the hilts of his blades down onto Zujenia’s dipped head and launched himself into a forward roll right over her back. She went down hard but came quickly to her knees, drawing and firing her vibroblade at Braecen even as he turned back.

Braecen saw the flicker at the last instant and snapped his head to the right. Two quick steps brought her right up to Braecen and her staff again arced in. Braecen dove into a sidelong roll and came up a few feet away. Her continuing confidence began to unnerve Braecen; he had hit the Knight with blows that would have dropped most opponents, and he wondered how much damage the Half-Ryn could withstand. That thought led Braecen to the inevitable conclusion that he might have to start hitting her with more than his lightsaber hilts.

Again the electrostaff came from the side. This time, Braecen did not dodge. He stepped within the arc of the polearm and stiffened his resolve through the Dark Side. The weapon bounced harmlessly off the Juggernaut, leaving Zujenia open for a strike with the blunt end of Braecen’s weapon once more. Three quick jabs closed one of Zujenia’s eyes, but she only grinned and charged, catching hold of Braecen and bearing her combatant to the ground. Braecen squirmed and slapped, understanding that his conscience had betrayed him. In such close quarters, he could not match her proficiency hand-to-hand, and his limited movements destroyed his advantage. Zujenia held her position on top and maneuvered one arm to chop down to the Elder’s throat.

The Sith Adept countered with incredible Force-infused speed, catching her wrist as it arced downward, before expending the energy he had built up within. His anger manifested in violet lightning that exploded over the young female. The shock, in such close proximity, drove her from atop her opponent and tumbling across the wet, metal surface of the landing pad. In opposition to the driving, cold winds, the rain droplets sizzled as they drove down onto her burning skin.

“Enough!” Braecen raged. “It is clear that what you lack in skill, you attempt to make up in determination. You can go back to your Master and report that you were not entirely unsuccessful.” The Corellian tossed a casual grin in Zujenia’s direction. “You can even tell her you got in a few good shots,” he joked. He saw the relief in her eyes as his words trailed off.

“So, you will give me a ride back to Selen?” she inquired hopefully.

“Oh, no,” Braecen laughed, “you are on your own for that. I spared your life, I will not, also, be your chauffeur.” He turned on his heel and marched back towards the shuttle’s opening without looking back.

As the shuttle pushed itself from the landing platform, the engines strained against the gravity, and Atyiru’s Apprentice grinned like a fool. She had been beaten on, manhandled, and fried with Force Lightning – she had also succeeded. During the altercation, she had planted several recording devices on the Adept’s robes. The devices would only activate when he talked, but from those recordings her and the Consul might determine if Braecen had been responsible for the recent attacks on Selen.

“Now,” she sighed, “I have to get off this backwater planet.” She mused that this part of the mission might at least be easier than retrieving the listening devices from the Elder’s robes.