Force Bound (a SWTOR DiD Story)

The battered Corellian freighter glided through space, powered on by heavily modified ion engines as it flew towards its destination.  Christened the Troublemaker, the freighter consisted of a saucer-like hull with a tapered cockpit protruding from its centre, with an off-set cargo module on the hull.  It was currently flying on a familiar course, making its approach towards the infamous moon in the galaxy: Nar Shaddaa, the Smuggler’s Moon.

Sitting in the pilot’s chair, Tria “Troubelle” Tzanti grinned as she watched the moon grow closer, always happy to be returning to that neon nightmare.  Young, slender and fully of mischievous energy, Troubelle whistled to herself as she piloted the Troublemaker into orbit.  As a zabrak, she sported short, torn-like horns than protruded through her short wavy hair, and her pretty heart-shaped face was segmented by traditional line tattoos.  A smuggler by trade, she was dressed in a revealing yellow tube top and tight synth-leather pants, and a heavily customized blaster was strapped to her thigh.  She liked to brag that the gun was the right size; big enough to ward off trouble, but small enough not to attract it, and she was skilled enough in its use for those who didn’t take the hint.

“We’ll be arriving at Deucalon Spaceport in ten,” Troubelle said, spinning her chair around to face her sole passenger.  “Then the fun really begins.”


“Fun is not the word I would use, young one,” Saskia Sundar replied dryly, much to the zabrak smuggler’s amusement.  Despite her words, Saskia was not much older than Troubelle, though she certainly cut a more impressive figure.  Tall, broad shouldered and athletically built, Saskia had short red hair, piercing green eyes and a pretty, freckled face.  She was dressed in a golden high-collared tunic with tan pants, studded vambraces on her forearms and sturdy high boots adorned her feet.  Hanging from her belt was an immaculately crafted lightsaber, marking her as Jedi Knight, one of the legendary defenders of the Galactic Republic.  

Saskia stood stoically, her hands clasped behind her back as she studied the planet with the Force, sensing the swirling chaos that was life on Nar Shaddaa.  It was almost the complete opposite of the more tranquil Tython, where Saskia had trained in the ways of the Jedi, and she had no doubts she would stand out like a lightsaber in a darkened room when navigating the moon’s city streets, but that is why she had enlisted the aid of Troubelle.  The feisty zabrak knew the lay of the land, and despite her reputable profession she was as trustworthy as they come.  

“I sense much darkness down there,” Saskia sighed, studying the moon carefully.

“You worry too much,” Troubelle laughed as she guided the ship towards the spaceport.  “Trust me, Nar Shaddaa is the closest I have to a home, other than this rust bucket of course.  We’ll have your old box back in no time.”

“That old box, as you eloquently put it, is the lost holocron of Master Magah Fan,” Saskia said with a wry smile, shaking her head.  “She was once a great Jedi in ancient times, but was tragically corrupted after experimenting with the dark side of the Force.  She obtained great personal power, but it also drove her insane and in the end she destroyed herself.  But before she did so, she imparted her knowledge into that holocron, and for centuries that knowledge had remained lost.  But now it has resurfaced, and we must ensure that information does not fall into the wrong hands.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Troubelle chuckled, “but usually my only question is how much is it worth.  And thankfully, it seems to be worth a lot to you Jedi types, so I am happy to play chauffeur and tour guide why you save the universe.  Still, keep your eyes open once we are surface-side.  Nar Shaddaa may look pretty but she has some very ugly people.”

“I am well aware of the Smuggler Moon’s reputation,” Saskia said, her eyes focusing on the spaceport ahead.  Or more importantly, one of the other ships docked there.  A Harbinger-class dreadnaught, a warship of the Sith Empire.  “My concerns lay with others who may be hunting the holocron for themselves.”

“Don’t worry, Nar Shaddaa is neutral ground,” Troubelle said, noticing the warship too.  “The Sith have no power here, at least no more than the Republic does.  That’s the thing about the Hutts; they don’t care about politics, only money.”

Troubelle signalled the control tower of the spaceport and arranged a birth for them.  After landing a activating the security systems aboard the Troublemaker, the pair headed off into Deucalon Spaceport.  It was hive of activity, with members of every race moving about their business, with bright neon signs illuminated everything as a gaudy contrast to the shady deals that were happening all around.  Saskia cast her gaze about and tried not to judge, but it was difficult with so much corruption being so openly displayed.  Troubelle paid it no mind; this was everyday stuff for her.  They made their way to a taxi stand and rented a speeder to take them to the Red Light District, where they would meet their contact to obtain the holocron.  But they needed to hurry.

Others were on the hunt as well.

* * *

Lady Malice snarled as she paced back and forth across the floor of the governor’s office, seething with anger as her impatience grew.  She had come to Shadow Town, a sector of Nar Shaddaa that they Sith Empire used to lock away its most despicable dissidents, on the orders of the Dark Council themselves.  She should not have to wait for a mere governess to find time to see her.  Especially when the lost knowledge of Magah Fan was so close.

Malice grimaced and flexed her shoulders in irritation.  She was a tall and muscular woman, the peak of human conditioning and the perfect example of a Sith warrior.  She kept her head shaved and her eyes were amber in colour, and a web of scars marred the right cheek of her chiselled face.  She was adorned in her well-worn black and red armour, and her hand constantly brushed against the wicked looking lightsaber hilt hanging from her belt.  She loved action, the rush of battle, and all this standing around was wearing on her nerves.  The governess would be in mortal danger if the reason for this delay was not to Malice’s liking.  But before Malice could reach breaking point, the door to the office opened and the governess walked in accompanied by another woman.

“Lady Malice,” said Governess Dalenn, a short, round woman who carried herself with unearned pride.  She was dressed in a crisp black and grey Imperial uniform, and over her left breast were several medals.  All for diplomatic service, Malice noted with disgust.  Dalenn was no fighter.  “It is a honour to have you here.  I am sorry for the delay, but it was unavoidable I am afraid.”

“And afraid you should be,” Malice snarled, glaring at the woman.  “I am on a mission for the Dark Council, and I will not tolerate any delays.  Give me your reasons, and make them good or I will terminate your position … permanently.”

“Certainly, Lady Malice,” Dalenn replied, showing the appropriate amount of terror.  “We needed to get this woman into Shadow Town undetected, and it proved difficult due to Republic Intelligence’s constant surveillance.  She will be essential for your mission, I can assure you.”

Malice took a moment to inspect the other woman.  She was about Malice’s height and only slightly less built, and had short wavy brown brushed back from her scalp.  She was dressed in a black jacket with a large metallic open-neck collar and red piling, plain pants and scuffed high boots.  An electronic targeter covered her right eye, displaying a constant stream of updating information, and she had a sawn-off blaster rifle slung over her shoulder.

“I do not need the aid of this bounty hunter,” Malice said with loathing.  

“I am no bounty hunter,” the woman replied with a sly smile.

“This is Cipher Nine, of Imperial Intelligence,” Dalenn hastily said.  “She is a deep cover operative with extensive knowledge of the Hutts and the Nar Shaddaa underworld.  She will be invaluable to you.”

“You can call me Banshee,” Cipher Nine said.  “It will be an honour to serve you and the Dark Council.  But we need to be quick; the Jedi have sent one of their own knights to gain the holocron you seek.”

“Very well,” Malice said, carefully studying Banshee.  “If you prove useful, I will forgive this delay.”

Dalenn sighed with relief.  

“Well then, we should head off,” Banshee said.  “But as hard as it is, you will need to follow my lead on this.  If you wish to charge in, lightsaber blazing, you will find yourself up against every armed criminal and bounty hunter on this moon.”

“I would take them all.”

“No doubt,” Banshee said, bowing her head slightly in respect.  “But it would not serve the council’s goals.  Trust me, and you will not be disappointed.”

“Very well,” Lady Malice said.  “Let us go.  The holocron of Magah Fan awaits us!”

* * *

Saskia stood at the back of the cantina, watching Troubelle as she animatedly conversed with a horn-headed devaronian.  According to the petit smuggler, he was the person would be able direct them to the current owner of Magah Fan’s holocron, though his information was never free.  Credit would not be an issue, but Saskia was concerned with what other “costs” that it might entail.  She reached out with the force and tried to get a sense on how the negotiations were going, but found that both the smuggler and the informant both had minds too slippery for her to get a true reading.  Saskia shrugged to herself; the mental abilities were not her strong point, and she at least got a good enough sense that the pair was in agreement.  And sure enough, Troubelle and the devaronian shook hands, and then the young zabrak returned to the waiting Jedi.

“Okay, so I’ve got good news and bad news,” Troubelle said.  “The box is in the possession of Celepha Vass, a local gang leader here in the district and collector of many ancient relics.  The bad news is that he said he gave the same information to a bounty hunter that he suspects is working for the Sith Empire.”

“I take it this information did not bankrupt the Republic?” Saskia asked.

“No, nothing that bad,” Troubelle said.  “I just had to promise him a ride off Nar Shaddaa if he ever needs to make a quick getaway.  Sometimes things like that are more valuable than cash.”

“Fair enough,” Saskia said.  “Then we should waste no more time.  Let’s us find this Celepha and convince her to hand off the holocron before the Sith can get their hands on it.”

They headed out of the cantina and then rented a pair of speeder bikes to aid them in traversing the busy streets of the Red Light District more efficiently.  Troubelle led the way, being eminently more familiar with the lay of the land, and they avoided any really attention to the arrived at the entrance to Celepha Vass’s hideout.  Guarding the hideout were a pair of heavily armed battle droids, who raised their weapons as the pair approached.

“Halt!” the droids ordered in unison.  “State your business or be destroyed!”

“I am Jedi Knight Saskia Sundar,” Saskia said, bowing before the droids.  “I wish to discuss a business opportunity with Celepha Vass.  She has an artefact of great importance to the Jedi Order, in her possession, and we are willing to pay her handsomely for its return.  May my companion and I enter and parlay with Madam Vass?”

“Hold,” the droids said in unison.  A short time later, a blue hologram sprang to life between the droids, depicting the image of a twi’lek woman.  She was dressed in worn battle armour and had a cybernetic right arm and leg.  Her face was screwed up in a perpetual scowl, and her two long, tapered head tentacles, called lekku, twitched with irritation.  

“I’m Vass,” the hologram said.  “Wadda ya want?”

“Greetings, Madam Vass,” Saskia said.  “The Jedi Order wishes to purchase of an ancient box you have in your possession.  I can promise you a fair offer for the item in question, if you are willing to bargain in good faith.”

“Not interested,” Celepha’s hologram replied with a contemptuous huff.  “I know what ya want and it ain’t for sale.  Take a hike or take a blaster bolt.  I ain’t too fussed which one ya pick.”

“Is that your final word?” Saskia asked, disappointed.

“Nope,” Celapha said.  “My final word is ‘Sod off’.”

“That’s two words,” Troubelle quipped with a lopsided grin, but the hologram’s only reply was an unimpressed scowl before flickering off.  The droids then raised their blasters, and Troubelle’s hand brushed against the butt of her own weapon, but Saskia stopped her.

“We’ll try another tactic,” Saskia said calmly, carefully inspecting the outside of the hideout, then led the young smuggler away from the entrance.  Once they were out of line of sight of the droids, Saskia pointed up to a series of large pipes that ran along the street walls.  “I can use those to sneak into the base,” she said.  “If the Force is with me, I can get in and out with Magah Fann’s holocron withouth Vass being any the wiser.”

“And what about me?” Troubelle asked, itching for some action.  

“I need you to keep an eye on the hideout, and let me know if anyone from the Sith arrives,” Saskia said.  “I know you would rather be involved, but I can move more quickly on my own.”

“Fine,” Troubelle sighed, “but don’t come crying to me if things go bad, Freckles.”

Saskia stopped and raised an eyebrow at the young smuggler.  Troubelle shrugged, and Saskia shook her head with a smile and headed off.  She found an area in which she was out of sight, then leaped upwards, propelling herself with the force up onto the pipes.  From there, she crouched down and used the pipes to navigate to the roof of Celepha’s hideout.  Once there, she found an air vent, and a quick slice from her lightsaber gave her a way in.  

Now all she had to do was find Celepha’s treasure room.

* * *

Troubelle leaned up against the wall, watching the hideout and feeling bored.  Though she did not like the idea of following Saskia into the base where no doubt Celepha and a small army of thugs awaited, she hated waiting around doing nothing.  She had never been one for patience, and would often do things when bored that would get her into deep strife; hence her nickname.  But Saskia was counting on her to watch her back, so Troubelle was doing her best not to let the freckled Jedi down.

Unfortunately though, no one was watching her back, which was why she was taken by surprise when Banshee came up behind her and clamped a hand over Troubelle’s mouth.  “Not a sound,” Banshee whispered into her ear, pressing a blaster to slender zabrak’s temple.  When Troubelle nodded, Banshee took away her hand from her mouth and used it to relieve her of her blaster.

“Young fool,” Malice said, emerging from the shadows.  “You are lucky we do not destroy you now!”

“Calm yourself,” Banshee said, shaking her head at her perpetually angry ally.  “A prisoner is always more useful than a corpse.  Now, let us get her secured so you can go after her Jedi friend.”

Malice sneered at her, but did not say anything more.  Banshee quickly used a pair of binders to lock Troubelle’s hands behind her back, then strapped over her mouth an electronic muzzle.  It consisted of a rectangular metallic mouthpiece that fitted over the lips, held in place by segmented straps, and suppressed all vocalization of the wearer when activated.  This allowed Banshee to interrogate her prisoners without removing the gag, merely activating it and deactivating when needed.  It was an ingenious device, though Troubelle did not seem too impressed by it.

“Now, let us go get her friend,” Banshee said.  

“Wait here and guard the prisoner,” Malice sneered.  “The Jedi is mine!”

“As you wish, Lady Malice,” Banshee said, bowing her head.  “Come prisoner, let us sit back and enjoy the show.”

Malice wasted no time, leaping up into the air and onto the overhead pipes.  She retraced Saskia’s path to the air vent on top of the hide out, unclipped her lightsaber and crawled inside.

* * *

Saskia moved quickly through the venting system of the base, stretching out with her senses through the Force.  She could feel the holocron, a dull, dark throbbing in the middle of the complex.  Even dormant, the holocron radiated an evil power, which heightened Saskia’s resolve to recover it and move it to somewhere it would not cause any harm.  

She headed around a corner and found a vent leading down into the treasure room.  She could sense no beings nearby, so she risked activating her lightsaber to remove the vent grate.  Saskia dropped down, landing softly on the pads of her boots.  The room was filled with ancient works of art, holo-paintings and statuettes of alien design, all no doubt stolen from their rightful owners by Celepha and her cronies.  As much as it galled her, Saskia could not return these ill-gotten gains, as her mission took precedence.  She cast her eyes about the room, and soon found what she was looking for.  

The holocron of Magah Fan sat upon a pedestal.  It was a small cube, covered in ancient ruins that glowed with purple light, and visually it seemed rather innocuous, but Saskia could sense the darkness within.  Steadying herself, she approached the pedestal and reached for the holocron, but before she could take it into her possession, and figure dropped into the room behind her.

“I claim that holocron in the name of the Sith Empire!” Lady Malice hissed, igniting her lightsaber and charging forward.  Her blood red energy blade swung at Saskia, and was met by Saskia’s own green lightsaber.  

Their blades hissed and crackled upon contact, the two women locked in mortal combat, until Saskia pushed Malice backwards.  She followed up with a spinning kick to Malice’s side, knocking her off balance momentarily, but the Sith warrior soon reclaimed her footing and continued her attack.  Saskia skilfully parried her attacks, looking for an opening to disarm her opponent, but Malice was obviously a mistress of battle.  They crossed blades again and again, with neither giving any ground.  But before either could gain an advantage, a small metal canister bounced between them and exploded.

Both women were encased in a thin layer of carbonite, freezing them in place.  

“Well, well, well,” Celepha Vass said, tossing another carbonite grenade up and down in her left hand.  She was packed up by her gang, who were all armed to the teeth.  “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of interlopers!  Move them to the cells, and bind them once they thaw out!”

* * *


Banshee sat down upon a crate and continued to watch the base, wondering what was taking Malice so long.  The Sith warrior had a great reputation, but so did most Jedi, so she hoped Malice had not underestimated her opponent.  But that said, there had been no sign of Saskia either, so she was worried that something may have gone terribly wrong.  Perhaps they had destroyed each other?

No, Banshee did not believe that was the case.  She threw a glance at Troubelle, who knelt beside her and glared hatefully back at Banshee.  She could see the young zabrak’s jaw working behind the electronic muzzle that covered her mouth, but the device perfectly rendered her mute.  Banshee was sure that Troubelle was coming up with inventive new insults for her, but the Imperial Agent had no intention of deactivating the muzzle to listen to them.

“Something must be wrong,” Banshee said, grimacing.  She took out a datapad and began tapping away, slicing her way into Celepha’s security system.  It was not easy, as the gang leader had spent a small fortune on securing her computer systems, but it was no match for an agent from Imperial Intelligence.  Banshee allowed herself a self-satisfied grin as she gained access, but the smile soon faded when she discovered that Lady Malice and Saskia had been captured.

“Arrogant fool,” Banshee sighed, putting away the datapad.  Her instincts were to cut and run, to declare the mission a failure and move on, but this assignment was for the Dark Council itself, so failure was not an option.  But she also knew she could not go alone, which left her only one unappealing option.  “It seems our friends have gotten themselves into a spot of bother,” Banshee said to Troubelle.  “And getting them out will take more than my skills alone.  So I am willing to offer a truce; you help me free Lady Malice, and I allow you and your Jedi friend to go free  We keep the holocron, of course, but at least you do not end up in an Imperial brig.”

Troubelle’s jaw moved, but the muzzle swallowed her reply.

“Sorry,” Banshee said with a smirk, and raised the remote control for the muzzle and pressed the button on the top.

“What makes you think I would trust you?” Troubelle said, her voice coming out with a metallic echo through the muzzle.

“You can’t,” Banshee said.  “But this is the only deal on offer, so take it or leave it.”

“Fine,” Troubelle said.  “Take off my restraints and give me my blaster back.”

“No dice,” Banshee said.  “I remove the cuffs, the muzzle stays.  And you get your gun back when we are ready to attack not before.  I am no fool, so do not treat me as one.”

“Like I have any other choice,” Troubelle said.  As promised, Banshee removed the binders from Troubelle’s wrists but left the muzzle over her mouth.  Banshee then gestured with her blaster for Troubelle to lead the way.  The young smuggler looked up at the overhead piping, and quietly regretted not having the Force-enhanced abilities of Saskia.  Letting out an exasperated sigh, she began to climb.

* * *
Saskia blinked as she came back into the conscious world.  It took her a moment to realize where she was, due to the cloudiness of her mind, but she was able to push away from the confusion and focus on her here and now.  She had been moved into a small cell since she and Malice had been caught by the carbonite grenade, and Celepha Vass had taken no chances once the Jedi had thawed out.  Saskia’s hands were locked behind her back by thick binders, and an electronic muzzle covered her mouth, rendering her silent.  Her lightsaber was gone, as was any equipment she could use to escape.  So rather than waste energy on futile struggling, Saskia sat herself up and assumed a cross-legged position so she could meditate.

She did not get much time to do so, as the door to cell opened and a pair of armed droids walked in.  Silently, they hauled her to her feet and led her out of the cell to were another pair of droids where fetching Malice.  The bald Sith warrior was struggling fiercely, but her hands were also securely bound behind her back and the electronic muzzle covering her mouth muted her every threat and insult.  

Malice glared at Saskia as they were forced down the corridor to a large room where Celepha Vass awaited.  The twi’lek crime boss was sitting upon an elegant chair, obviously stylized to give the impression of a thrown, and she was holding the holocron of Magah Fan in her left hand.  On the right armrest of the chair were the two lightsaber hilts she had taken from her prisoners, and she was flanked by several battle droids.  

“So much fuss for such a little box,” Celepha mussed, inspecting the holocron.  “I knew it was valuable when I picked it up, but I never expected to have by a Jedi and a Sith drop into my lap because of it.  So, my question is, how much do ya think ya respective governments will pay to have it returned?  And how much will they’ll pay for ya?”

Celepha awaited a reply, but then smirked at her prisoners.  “Silly me,” she said, and hit the controller for the electronic muzzles over her prisoners’ mouths.  

“I am going to destroy you!” Malice snarled, her face red with rage.  “I will tear you a-”

Celepha yawned and reactivated Malice’s muzzle, cutting off her rant.

“Now, Jedi, are you going to be more polite?”

“I implore you, reconsider this course of action,” Saskia said.  “I was willing to buy the holocron in good faith, so there is no need for any of this.  I promise you, your payment will be fair and prompt if you release us now and do not go through with your ransom demands.”

“I don’t really care for fair,” Celepha chuckled.  “All I see is piles upon piles of credits, and those piles are only going to get larger once the powers that be start a bidding war.  So nope, I will not reconsider.  Ya are all worth too much for that.”

“Is that you final word?” Saskia asked, sensing something familiar.  She  was glad the electronic muzzle covered her mouth, otherwise her smile might have given it away.

“No, but it was yours,” Celepha said with a yawn, and reactivated Saskia’s gag.  “Droids, take them down to the carbonite chamber.  Let’s put them in stasis so they cannot cause any trouble.”

“Speaking of which…” a voice said from above, and a vent cover over head came crashing down, followed by a smoke grenade.  Troubelle dropped down from the vent, weapon draw, and quickly began shooting the droids that guarded Celepha.  She was followed by Banshee, firing her own weapon, and the Imperial Agent quickly raced to the entrance of the room, shutting the door and locking it to prevent any more of Celepha’s allies getting in.  

As blaster bolts flew, Saskia took her chance.  She spun on her heel and called to her lightsaber with the Force.  The hilt leaped from its place on Celepha’s chair and into Saskia’s hand, and the Jedi quickly ignited the blade and sliced through her binders.  Not to be outdone, Malice did the same, but instead of attacking the droids she swung her blade at Saskia.

“Don’t be a fool!” Saskia cried as she parried the blow, but her words were silenced by her muzzle.  The Sith warrior seemed more intent on destroying her than their mutual enemies, and only struck at Celepha’s droids when one got too close to her.  Saskia continued to her defend against the attack, but also kept an eye on Celepha, who was hiding behind her chair with her weapon drawn.  She drew a bead on Malice, but as she fired, Saskia knocked Malice out of the way with a Force push, saving the enraged woman’s life.  Saskia then leaped across the room to Celepha and with a quick twirl of her lightsaber sliced the twi’lek’s blaster in two.  She then snatched the holocron from Celepha’s hand and tucked it into her tunic.  

Malice had recovered quickly from the Force push, and marched towards Saskia, absently striking down droids as she stalked forward.  Troubelle saw this, and took aim at Malice, setting her blaster to stun.  But before she could fire, Banshee appeared behind her and pressed the muzzle of her own gun to Troubelle’s head.

“Let’s not get between them, eh?” Banshee said with an evil grin.  But before she could do anything, her gun was ripped from her hand, flying across the room into Saskia’s waiting hand.  Troubelle spun and shot Banshee, the blue stun bolt dropping the Imperial Agent instantly.  She then dropped into a crouch and fired a Malice, but the Sith warrior was ready, deflecting the shots with her lightsaber.

But in doing so, Malice took her attention from Saskia, who leaped towards her, lightsaber blazing.  Malice spun to riposte the attack, but Saskia’s blade was not meant for her.  Instead, it cut throw the ceiling panels, causing a mass of cables to drop upon the Sith warrior.  Saskia then reached out with Force, using it to control the cables, wrapping them around Malice’s arms to bind her in place.  Malice screamed with rage behind her electronic muzzle, but no sound came out.  Troubelle then put her out of her misery with a well-placed stun bolt.

“Thank you for the rescue,” Saskia said with a grin, pulling the muzzle from her mouth as Troubelle did the same for hers.  She then turned her attention Celepha, who was covering behind her chair.  “Now, Madam Vass, do wish to reconsider my offer?”

* * *

Governess Dalenn paced across her office, worried about the lack of word from Banshee and Malice.  They had been gone for some time now, and she feared the worst.  It was not out of concern for the agent or the warrior, but more for herself.  She could only imagine the Dark Council’s reaction if two of their top operatives disappeared under her command.  Dalenn shuddered at the thought.

“Ma’am,” said one of her aides, coming into her office.  “We have had a package delivered.”

“I don’t recall ordering anything,” Dalenn muttered absently, not paying attention.  The aide did not respond, instead signalled for a cargo droid to bring the package in.  It was a large metal crate, and it was addressed to the Sith Empire.  The droid opened the crate, and two figures rolled out.

Malice and Banshee glared up at the governess, their eyes filled with rage as they screamed uselessly into the electronic muzzles covering their mouths.

“Oh dear,” Dalenn muttered, and reluctantly gave the order to free them.

* * *

Troubelle piloted her ship out of Nar Shaddaa, grinning to herself as she thought of the look on the Imperial’s faces when they unboxed Banshee and Malice.  Saskia had not been fond of the idea of sending them back in the crate, but the Jedi had been forced to admit it was better than what they would have done to them if they had been victorious.  Still, they had not waited around to see the results, as Saskia wanted to get the holocron back to the Jedi Council as soon as possible.

“Well, that was fun,” Troubelle said as she programmed in the co-ordinates for Tython.  “Remind me to ask for hazard pay on this job.”

“I’d say you earned it,” Saskia said with a smile, carefully inspecting the holocron that had caused them so much trouble.  “I will be glad when this is locked away, safe and sound.   Who knows what would have happened if Malice had gotten her hands on it.  Thanks again for your assistance.”

“Meh, I had fun, Freckles,” Troubelle said with a wink.  “Save for the whole getting captured bit.  Still, I think we made a good team today, so if you ever have need of a sassy smuggler, you know who to call.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Saskia said with a smile.  “Just in future, please don’t call me Freckles.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Troubelle laughed, and then jumped the ship to hyperspeed.