It was just past nightfall, five days after the hectic escape from the Imperial prison, when Twilight and the small band of rebels reached the edge of one of Serenno’s many forests. They had trekked a considerable distance through the wilderness, weaving a winding, confusing trail along the way in hopes of throwing off pursuers. Twilight had even thrown in a little magic to obscure their tracks when no one was looking. It was harder to pull off in human form, of course, but certain hand gestures appeared to make a barely-tolerable substitute for a horn.

Now the disheveled former prisoners found themselves near the western edge of Carannia, overlooking a large palatial estate. Surrounded by a plasma fence and patrolled by numerous hovering droids and armed security personnel alike, it looked to Twilight like the exact opposite of where they should be going.

“Don’t you think the Imperials will be locking down the capital?” she had asked. “Won’t they have spies inside all the noble estates?”

But Jason Sylkes had argued in favor of it.

“We need somewhere to rest, get some supplies, and then beat it off the planet. After the raid on our HQ, we have to assume that our cell and all its assets are fatally compromised. But here, blood counts for a lot. It’s a bit of a risk going to a distant cousin, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

Naturally enough, the leader of the group had been more trusted than an outsider. So this way they had come. Twilight watched from the tree-line, Spike safely secured in her pack, as Kylee limped painfully towards the estate’s front gate. A pair of armored guards marched out to meet her, and words were exchanged. The princess couldn’t hear precisely what was said, but some minutes in Kylee turned around and beckoned towards her hidden fellows. Slowly and cautiously, the rebels walked down to meet the estate’s guardians.

Not so far away, in an anonymous cell in one of the Empire’s outposts on Serenno, Agent Kallus stared down at a durasteel interrogation table. A spherical IT-O Interrogation Droid hovered menacingly over his shoulder, fresh from injecting another round of its chemical cocktail into the prisoner. That man was currently in the process of screaming his lungs out and writhing futilely against his restraints as the droid’s chemicals simultaneously activated hundreds of pain receptors throughout his body. Kallus watched nonchalantly, arms folded across his chest and face carefully neutral.

“I repeat,” said the IT-O droid in its mechanical monotone once the man’s shrieks had died down to a series of dull whimpers. “To whom did you sell contraband blaster pistols classed DC-17?”

“I told you,” the unfortunate prisoner managed, sweat pouring down his face. “I only deal in replacement parts for airspeeders. I’ve never sold-”

“You are lying,” the droid cut him off. “You are Titus Kalen, known dealer in black-market weaponry and supplies. You are guilty of receiving stolen Imperial surplus including DC-17 serial number KDY-3912723. We have been watching you for longer than you know. Imperial Security Bureau file SN-47859 contains a full list of your crimes against the Empire. Denial is futile. Falsehood will be met with pain.” It extended another of its many unpleasant-looking needles.

“No! No please!” Kalen tried to beg. The pitiless machine ignored him, hovering closer with injector at the ready. His brown eyes flicked to Kallus, pleading. “Please! Call that thing off!”

“I’m afraid I can only do that if you cooperate,” said the ISB agent, injecting just the slightest hint of sorrow into his voice. “If you persist in lying to the Empire, there’s nothing I can do to stop the droid.”

“Please! PLEASE!!!” Kalen shrieked, but neither man nor droid heeded him. The IT-O droid’s needle plunged into a vein on his neck, and once again he was quickly overwhelmed by the chemicals surging through his bloodstream. This time the thrashing went on for nearly a solid minute. Kallus noted the distinctive sound of bone snapping as Kalen’s left wrist strained against his restraint, and resolved to tighten it if there was a next session. At least, the torment subsided, but Kalen had no chance to rest. The droid saw to that.

“I repeat,” it said again, its monotone unchanged. “To whom did you sell contraband blaster pistols classed DC-17?” When all the prisoner did was breathe heavily for a few seconds, it prodded him with an electrically-charged rod. “Answer or suffer.”

“But…” he half-whispered, voice hoarse from screaming. “I don’t know…”

“You are lying,” the IT-O stuck its needle out again.

“No! NO! NO!” Kalen thrashed again, ignoring his broken wrist. “Call it off!” he pleaded with Kallus. “Call it off!”

“Are you prepared to talk?” Kallus asked him, not doing a thing. “Are you prepared to answer the Empire’s questions honestly?”

Eyeing the approaching needle with naked terror, Kalen still hesitated. “Please… they’ll kill me…”

He still thought that he was getting out of here. That was almost cute. But it would hardly do to allow a man who had so flagrantly violated the Emperor’s laws to go free once he had been taken in. Order had to be maintained, and for that examples must be made of those who went against the Empire. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to lead him on a bit.

“The Empire can protect you,” said Kallus. He raised one hand, and the droid stopped where it was, needle inches from Kalen’s neck. “But it can only do so if you will tell us what we want to know. Otherwise…” Kallus let that word hang in the air. “Please,” he said, long practice giving his voice a faint undertone of sympathy. “Help me to help you.”

The sweating, shivering, panting man looked back and forth from Kallus to the IT-O, then back to Kallus again. He said nothing for some seconds. Just as Kallus was getting ready to give the droid the signal to proceed with the injection, Kalen answered him.

“Alright…” he said. “I’ll talk. I’ll talk. Just call that… thing off.”

Kallus smiled and nodded at the droid. “Give him some truth serum and then some distance.”

The IT-O stuck a different needle into the prisoner’s neck, then obediently backed off to float behind Kallus.

“Now,” Kallus continued after the chemicals had had a chance to take effect. “You sold a DC-17 blaster pistol with the serial number KDY-3912723 to someone in the month since it was stolen from Imperial surplus. I want to know who, and when.”

“Only… two weeks ago…” Kalen was still breathing heavily. “To a woman... Didn’t look like… she was from around here…”

“Oh really?” Kallus stroked his chin. “Tell me more about this woman.”

In the Imperial Academy of Korriban, Princess Luna was admiring her freshly-constructed lightsaber. Deactivated, it was a slim, silvery cylinder with an elegant design lacking in any clunky or obvious mechanical parts. Even its activation stud was little more than a circle cut into the hilt, difficult to spot at first glance. Lacking any need to fit the weapon to any particular set of hands, Luna had made the hilt as small as she possibly could, to minimize target profile. Small, thin, refined, and deadly, it was a weapon the princess could be proud of.

“Pay attention,” said a deep voice in her head. “Observe your fellows in action.”

“Oh, fie on thee!” Luna’s thoughts snapped back irritably. Having a ghost whisper to her randomly was far from enjoyable.

Nonetheless, she did look up from her lightsaber and at the training ring. Encircled by the bulk of the class and presided over by Inquisitor Cia, the indoor sparring ring was the proving ground for the Inquisitorial initiates and their new weapons. The lightsaber-wielding men and women of the class were pitted against the IG-100 MagnaGuards and their electrostaffs without the benefit of Force powers, to test both their own personal competence and the quality of their weaponry. So far it had gone relatively well. Only one Gran woman had sliced her arm off with her own weapon.

At that moment, one of the former Separatist bodyguard droids was engaged in a heated bout with a tan-skinned human male of above average height. Luna watched as the red-eyed droid spun its wrist, double-ended electrostaff and all, around fast enough to create a blurry storm of images as it advanced. The man was focused on the staff, but with Dooku’s instruction Luna recognized it for the distraction that it was. Sure enough, the instant the man lunged for a perceived gap in the machine’s defenses, the droid kicked nimbly out with its right foot. It connected with his shin, and duranium armor shattered bone.

The acolyte fell flat on his face, but did not cry out. Instead, he swept his crimson lightsaber along the floor, trying to cut the droid down by its ankles. The MagnaGuard caught the blow with one electrified phrik end of its staff, then stamped down brutally on the man’s wrist. Once again, the machine’s strength was easily enough to break bone. His lightsaber deactivated almost as soon as it tumbled from his grip, and the droid kicked it out of the ring. Then it spun its electrostaff once before bringing it down on the acolyte’s back. He finally screamed as thousands of volts flooded through his system, sending his body into spasms.

“Enough!” Inquisitor Cia called out after handful of seconds, holding up her hand.

Obediently, the MagnaGuard ceased its attack and backed away from the man’s twitching, smoking form.

“You, droid!” Cia clicked her fingers at a waiting medical droid. “See that he’s stabilized and get him to the infirmary!”

“Yes mistress,” it said, hovering forward and injecting something into the downed acolyte. A few seconds later, the twitching stopped and his body began to visibly relax.

“Now she cares what happens to her students,” Luna thought bitterly.

“Before you were merely untested adepts, numerous and disposable,” Dooku’s voice answered her. “Now that she has invested considerable time and effort into your training, she is not so cavalier about losing an acolyte.”

“We didn’t- I didn’t ask your opinion.”

“But you would do well to listen regardless.”

“Next, we’ll have…” Cia called out, interrupting their conversation. She pointed at Luna with a slight smile. “Why don’t you take your turn?” She jerked a thumb towards the MagnaGuard.

Luna nodded, keeping her face neutral, and took a few steps into the ring, carefully avoiding the medical droids extracting the limp form of the last acolyte. She had taken on two MagnaGuards before, but without the ability to use Force lightning against their vulnerable circuits this one would be more of a challenge. Now she would be purely testing her blade-work against a machine built to face and kill Jedi.

Luna’s lightsaber erupted into life, vicious crimson blade at the ready. She welcomed the challenge.

As soon as the unconscious human was removed from the ring, the MagnaGuard went into action. It began, as its type were wont to do, by spinning its electrostaff in a dizzying array of patterns – a display meant to confuse, distract, and intimidate foes. Luna was too knowledgeable to fall for the ruse, held her ground, lightsaber perched defensively above her head. When the machine’s processor realized that psychological warfare wasn’t going to do the job, it switched to offensive mode and the duel began.

The MagnaGuard surged forward without warning, jabbing one end of its electrostaff at Luna’s face. She caught it on her lightsaber, but almost simultaneously the droid’s right performed a sweeping kick. The alicorn reared up onto her hind legs to avoid the low sweep, and then kicked the droid in the chest. The MagnaGuard staggered backwards, but its duranium plating was more than enough to prevent any serious damage. Luna immediately fell on it with a series of slashes and stabs, her lightsaber almost a blur of red. Still, it caught or batted aside each blow, then pushed Luna’s saber back with a particularly powerful swing of its staff. She retreated a few steps.

The two opponents circled one another warily, evaluating as best they could the other’s fighting style. Luna had some experience with droids of this type, but each one was equipped with a heuristic processor that enabled it to learn from experience and develop its own unique fighting style. The MagnaGuard, for its part, had considerable experience against both Jedi and Inquisitorial acolytes alike, but had never encountered a creature like Luna before.

This time, it was Luna who made the first move. She burst into motion with a powerful overhand blow aimed at the MagnaGuard’s chest. The droid caught the strike in non-electrified center of its staff – just as the princess had hoped. Luna pressed down as hard as she could manage, making it a contest of strength. And, she knew, the phrik of the droid’s electrostaff could withstand contact with a lightsaber for some time, but not forever. She pressed her advantage, and the MagnaGuard pressed back.

It was during that moment that Luna felt a new presence.

One moment, all her focus was on the duel and crushing the droid publicly. The next, she felt the currents of the Force shifting around her. The tides of the dark side receded briefly, as if being drawn into something, and then surged outwards tsunami-like and stronger than before. Luna could feel more darkness emanating from the newcomer than she ever before sensed in one being. Even the ghosts of the Valley of the Dark Lords paled in comparison to the sheer weight and overpowering intensity of this new presence.

Luna reeled back, some part of her instinctively seeking to cower and hide herself away somewhere in the face of overwhelming darkness. All around her, she could see and feel acolytes doing exactly that. Inquisitor Cia, for the first time since Luna had set eyes on her, looked surprised and more than a little fearful. Even the presence of the ghost that seemed to hang perpetually over her shoulder was gone, as if the dead themselves were intimidated.

The MagnaGuard alone of the room’s occupants was blissfully oblivious, having no connection to the Force. It took advantage of Luna’s slackening grip to shove her lightsaber back and launch into a twirling series of offensive sequences of its own. She blocked or dodged them with her own weapon, but the princess’ mind was only halfway there. She felt more than watched as Inquisitor Cia turned and hurriedly shoved her way through the acolytes towards the entry hall, muttering to herself as she went. Above the humming plasma of her blade and the crackling staff of the droid, Luna could only catch a few words.

“…shouldn’t be here… too soon…”

The painful impact of electrostaff against skin brought Luna fully back into the moment. Thousands of volts blossomed out from the spot on her wing where the droid had jabbed her. Luna retreated, batting wildly at the MagnaGuard and struggling to surpass the spasms wracking her wings and chest. Taking one of Dooku’s lessons to heart, she grabbed hold of her pain and allowed herself to fully experience every mite of it, slowly. The sensation fed her anger at machine, and the anger fed her power.

With a sound that was half-snarl, half-roar Luna burst into her own offensive frenzy. Quickened by the surging darkness, her lightsaber became nothing more than a crimson blur in the air. It struck at the MagnaGuard from every conceivable angle without pause or hesitation. The agile machine’s quick reflexes blocked the first few attacks, but then it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blade nicked its right shoulder. It shifted easily to a one-handed fighting style of compensate, but the damage was done. Luna was on it, and she rained blow after blow with lightsaber and hooves alike.

She ignored the pain when the droid thrust the staff into her stomach, wrapping her Force-empowered forelegs around the weapon and simply wrenching it from the machine’s hands in a display of overwhelming strength. Luna hurled the electrostaff aside and mercilessly cut the MagnaGuard to pieces.

As the princess stood victorious over the smoking ruin of her opponents, her ears perked up. Over the sounds of the still-active weapons, the frantic beating of her heart, and the chatter of her fellow students, Luna could hear another sound. It was echoing easily, seeming almost unnaturally loud even in the relatively confined space. Though she knew not why, the sound of it instantly made her fur stand on end.

Deep, rhythmic, mechanical breathing.