Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Orbit of Teth, Teth System

Baxel Sector

“You know, this isn’t even my first time ambushing a Republic fleet like this,” I mused.

“I have no recollection of that event,” Tuff said.

“You weren’t there,” Stelle fired the retrothrusters, starting our deceleration–since our velocity wasn’t quite so high, we didn’t need to flip, “It was during the Sarapin Campaign. You can access the ship’s databanks later.”

“Mh,” I hummed, “It was the last major battle of the campaign, actually. A Republic battlegroup under Jedi General Echuu Shen-Jon had begun their counterattack, retaking Sarapin before tracing us to the Krant System, where General Tann had set up shop.”

“General Tann knew the Jedi would pursue, so she laid a trap,” Stelle’s tone was somehow reminiscent, “She scattered her fleets across the system, and when the enemy fleet was in low orbit, we ambushed them.”

“Not a single enemy warship escaped,” I said as the lights flashed red and the claxons howled–the Republic has noticed us, “The Jedi was planetside by then, so I don’t exactly know what happened… but it seemed General Tann prepared a ground ambush as well. If the Jedi wasn’t struck down by her, then he must have eaten plasma.”

I breathed out slowly, “Alright, enough of that. Fix range on Guarlara.”

“Roger roger,” the gunnery officer tapped his console, “Cycling power to forward turbolasers.”

“Maximum power,” I commanded, “Aim for her engines. I want to crack her deflectors in the first shot. Prep forward ion cannons. Once her shields are down, I want her dead in the water. Are you reading, Renown?”

“Roger roger,” Zenith replied.

Munificent-class frigates boasted one of the largest naval turbolaser batteries in the galaxy, with enough firepower to crack open battleships like eggs, or punch straight through planetary atmospheres for orbital bombardment. When you factor in the frigate’s rather pitiful armour scheme, it was this main battery that evened the playing field against any capital ship.

That was, only if you can shoot first. Because the frigate only had one battery of two barrels, and the entire thing was so fucking large it had to be mounted directly onto the ship. While the mount had some freedom in elevation, the only substantial way to aim them is to rotate the ship itself. Furthermore, firing them at full power reroutes so much energy from the reactors that you can forget having functioning shield projectors, or even main engines.

In the end, the Munificent-class–like all other Separatist warships–was the product of cost-cutting and conscious trade-offs.

It was only in this situation, when you were shooting up the ass end of a Venator–one of the largest blindspots in the history of naval ordnance–that you can be reasonably certain you weren't going to get punished immediately for your lack of deflectors.

As more power was continuously diverted towards the turbolaser mount, the effects on the rest of the ship quickly grew apparent. Console monitors dimmed, and the lighting system started outright flickering. Our rate of retardation slowed dramatically as engine efficiency was essentially cut in half.

“Cut power to life support and artificial gravity in all compartments of the ship excluding the bridge,” I commanded, “We need our engines. We need our sensor suites.”

“That will free up some output,” the engineering droid consulted his readouts, “Should we cycle that back into the engines?”

“Feed the excess into the ion cannons,” I said.

“Roger roger.”

I eyed the sensor repeaters, keeping in mind how Guarlara was hastily cycling her shields to her rear. The reason Guarlara was targeted first is simple–the ship is most likely the escort carrier of the enemy fleet. Acclamators are troopships, and Tranquility is the headquarters of the 41st. I needed to disable the primary carrier before it could get its LACs in the air. If that happens, it’s all over.

Guarlara was halfway through its turn when my gunnery readouts beeped.

“Open fire!”

BOOM. Two heavy thuds reverberated throughout the ship, ringing it like a tuning fork. The tactical holo glowed as two–and then four–massive sources of energy appeared, beaming out like comets. The first two splintered against Guarlara’s deflectors, splitting into scores of daughter beams and ricocheting–but decaying before they could hit anything. Renown had a much better angle on Guarlara, their lasers smashing head-on and overwhelming their ray shields.

Our ion cannons didn’t wait to unleash fury on the hapless star destroyer, ripping into Guarlara electronically. Arcs of lightning danced across her engine block, frying her ion drives, hyperdrive, and primary inertial compensator. Their sublight thrusters wound down, fading to black and lifeless. In a single strike, the ship was made a dead fish.

As soon as all that power was discharged, the ship’s internal systems gradually roared back to life. The consoles burst back to their horrid green, while the lighting flickered back on.

“Tranquility is opening its dorsal doors,” Tuff observed.

Unduli’s flagship was violently swinging around to bring its gun to bear, red-marked hangar doors groaning open to reveal its deadly complement of starfighters. Behind it, the sole troopship manoeuvred away, fastidiously keeping Tranquility between us and her.

“Where’s the other Acclamator?” I demanded.

“Low atmosphere,” Stelle answered.

My tablet vibrated, prompting me to look at it. I glanced at Tuff. He looked back at me impassively.

“Fine,” I muttered, slating over my annoyance with cold rationality, “Renown, deploy all your vultures. The Commander needs air support. Tuff, get our fighters and C-nines in the air.”

“Roger roger.”

There was a warning: large object approaching at dangerous velocity. It usually only appears when there was an approaching interstellar body–like a sizable asteroid–that our passive deflectors couldn’t brush off. I checked our perimeter, and then my chrono. Resistance was closing in quickly, her velocity capping at 18,000 KPS before she flipped on her axis and fired up her sublight thrusters in a very last minute burn and violent attempt to slow down. ETA: seventeen standard minutes.

“Seal blast hatches,” my gazed skipped to another readout, “And cycle deflectors to dorsal–concentrate around the bridge. Clone pilots only know how to attack from above.”

“Roger roger.”

Clunk, clunk, clunk–duralloy plating tiled over the transparisteel viewports, darkening the pilothouse. The lighting was purposefully dimmed, and the custom holoemitters were toggled, projecting a near-duplicate holoscape of the pitch outside onto the screened viewports. It was all in shades of blue and red–I didn’t have enough clout, or cash, to order full-colour projectors–but colour was an unnecessary affectation.

The holoemitters were directly fed data from the repeaters–superimposing vectors, 3D bearings, and sensor data onto the display. Along with internal data from Repulse itself, such as power levels and operational capabilities, it was like a bastard hybrid of a RTS and FPS heads-up display. I no longer had to juggle half a dozen readouts–I could just look at an enemy ship on the projection and figure their shield levels, or which guns were reloading.

Originally, the blast hatches were an emergency system meant to seal the bridge should the viewport be undermined in any way–such as, say, perforated–but I think this purpose is much more useful. After all, windows in a space battle are liabilities. I’m still not sure why this galaxy liked them so much–you should really keep the sightseeing to pleasure cruises.

But that was a bit disingenuous, coming from me.

Pointers popped up all around the periphery as our vultures swarmed out of the hangars, escorting the C-9799s planetside. Just under a hundred of them, orbiting around the transports as they converged and stuck precariously close to the ventral side of Guarlara, smartly using the disabled cruiser as cover.

“Fighter contacts!” the sensor engineer announced.

Hundreds of LACs poured out of Tranquility, zipping out of the hangar approach and banking hard on their etheric rudders to sweep back around. It took only a moment for our scanners to identify the make and feed it into the tactical holo. V-19 Torrents.

I could sigh in relief. Those were starfighters, not bombers.

Renown reacted quickly, driving hard into the wedge between Guarlara and Tranquility and rolling portside to angle its armour scheme against the LACs. If the V-19s wanted to get to the transports, they were going to have to go through them. Sparks darted across the display as Renown’s point-defence turrets howled, spewing out veritable curtains of anti-fighter fire. Republic pilots were getting downed by the dozen.

Tranquility and Renown soon devolved into a brutal broadside exchange, casemates roaring as both ships pumped the other full of superheated tibanna. In a prolonged engagement, however, the Tranquility will come out on top–Separatist frigates were simply too fragile. My chrono read nine standard minutes.

“Forward turbolasers are thirty percent charged,” the gunnery droid said.

“Fix range on Guarlara’s bridges,” I ordered, “Light them up.”

The entire ship pitched itself upwards, almost like breathing in before a great scream. Then a flash of red–energy readouts on the sensor repeater spiking–and Guarlara’s primary conning tower disappeared in a massive explosion. Just like a game–I smiled in satisfaction.

“Hard right hard over,” I called, “We’ll come around and support Renown from the other side–”

The tactical holo flashed, and the network of system readings orbiting Renown’s marker, glared baleful red. Relief turned to ash in my mouth.

The enemy starfighter wing had pivoted, unleashing a torrent of concussion missiles down the frigate’s spine and detonating her power cells, before sweeping down her hull and pursuing the transports. Explosions rocked the warship–which I could only see as warning symbols popping up all around Renown’s icon–before our shared feed desynchronised. That could only mean one thing; her command bridge had lost all power.

In an impressive display of tenacity, Renown continued to brawl with Tranquility, as if the ship itself was defiant even in the face of her lost command. Her automated turrets continued to barrage the Jedi cruiser with plasma unceasingly, determined to carry out their last received orders to the bitter end.

My chrono beeped– ETA: one standard minute.

Resistance shot out of the abyss like a bullet, abruptly appearing right beneath Tranquility with thrusters faced forward and ventral guns faced up–and all hell broke loose. Fuelled by the voracity to avenge her sister, the frigate clawed into the cruiser’s belly, slagging the ventral hangar bay until it was melted shut and tearing out chunks of doonium plating. Caught at unawares, Tranquility didn’t have the shields to stop her.

A second wing of starfighters swarmed out of the cruiser’s flight deck–ARC-170s–veering up and then over Tranquility’s portside wing like some kind of fountain. They streaked down, S-foils setting into attack position–and then I understood what they were doing. Repulse was hardly in the position to support, so we could only watch as the ARC-170s fired off barrage after barrage of proton torpedoes into Resistance’s lightly armoured ventral surface.

The first volley was shattered against concentrated deflectors, as was the second. The third was a deluge of purple spells that finally overwhelmed the particle shielding– and then Resistance was consumed by inferno. The torpedoes smashed straight through the flimsy armour and mauled everything inside to hell. Fuel bunkers ruptured, gas lines fractured, and a series of chain reactions shredded the entire ship to scrap from the inside.

In less than a heartbeat, there was nothing identifiable left of the ship once named Resistance.

For a second, I thought we would soon join them, but the ARCs didn’t press their momentum after recovering from the dive. They instead took defensive formations around their mothership while she maneuvred away, apparently attempting to rendezvous with the Acclamator that had already withdrawn.

“Tranquility is retreating,” Stelle said softly, “Should we pursue?”

“...No,” I said after a long moment, “Hang back.”

I may have not had a direct hand in their programming, but I had personally and painstakingly cultivated each and every droid of officer value on my ships. I gave them names, personalities–I made sure they were programmed with the ambition to succeed–and when you do that, there was little between a droid officer and an organic one, except for one. Droids thought solely in numbers. They are cognitively incapable of being more incompetent than what you had programmed into them.

Three-One had pulled off that manoeuvre spectacularly, even ending it right beneath an enemy ship. In another world, he could have pulled that off. Zenith’s sacrifice allowed our transports and vultures to slip right past the enemy and reinforce Ventress on the surface, but Three-One’s?

In another world, I didn’t allow him to take that risk.

“Damage report for Renown,” I said.

“Power cells were struck,” Stelle reported, “But it was a contained detonation. The ship is disabled because the power feeds were severed. Once the crew recycles auxiliary, Renown should be capable of limited operations.”

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I breathed through my nose, “That’s good. We have a hundred-thousand deactivated droids in the hold. Activate them all and bring us over the Guarlara– I will give them only one chance to surrender.”

“Roger roger.”

I leaned back, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Sir,” Tuff’s flat voice was even more irritating than usual, “Enemy jamming has ceased. We have reestablished contact with air control. The airspace is heavily contested between our vultures and enemy fighters, but all the transports have landed. The Jedi are retreating.”

“That better be,” I snarled, “I lost two fucking ships for this.”

?

“I have the evidence, ma’am. Did some simple splicing and editing to make the holocam recording quite… convincing. It was harder than usual–these two don’t give much to work with,” 4A-7 said, audibly self-satisfied, “Oh– and, the Jedi are approaching the main vault now.”

“Good work,” she whispered, “Transmit it to Count Dooku and warm up the junker.”

“Can do, Mistress,” the espionage droid replied, “And, ma’am, target the young one. She’s their weakness.”

Ventress preferred droids to organics, generally. Programmed well, you can be certain they will be the most trustworthy and competent individuals you have ever worked with. To her, 4A-7 was more of a real being than most organics she had to endure. When he had a duty, he would do it–and do it well. She could ask nothing more from a subordinate, and a partner.

She sprinted to the main vault and planted explosive charges on every exit, before sliding behind a column. As she waited, Ventress arranged each charge to different sequences on her detonator. Just as 4A-7 had said, she soon heard a multitude of footsteps coming through a nearby hallway.

The softer steps of Jedi, and the hard clacking of clonetrooper boots. She waited until the rustling of their robes were right next to her.

Ventress sprung out like a Rattataki redjacket, twin lightsabers springing to life.

In a few seconds, the squad of accompanying clones were scythed down before the Jedi could react, before she pivoted to deal with them as well.

One saber swung down in a bloody arc, humming with eagerness to kill. Red clashed against green, and for a brief moment she saw a terrified surprise illuminated against the Jedi Padawan’s face. Ventress grinned at that sight.

The Padawan pushed back, and Ventress transferred that momentum to bring in her other saber in a lightning arc, employing careful restraint to not hit the wailing Huttlet slung over her shoulder. Ventress’ blade missed her head by a fraction of an inch as the Padawan ducked.

“Barriss!” it was Unduli’s turn to leap at her.

Ventress pirouetted, hastily parrying with a saber and bringing the other around for a simultaneous strike. Their blades sparked in parry and thrust as Ventress kept an eye out for the Padawan–Barriss. The sound of hasty footsteps echoed down a dark corridor. Clones.

“Barriss, get Rotta out of here!” Unduli shouted.

“But Master–!”

“Go!” the Jedi Master gritted her teeth as Ventress pushed hard.

Barriss hesitated for a split second, before deciding to obey her master’s wishes. That hesitation would cost her.

Ventress summoned her strength to shove Unduli with the Force, before leaping backwards. With the breathing room, she toggled her detonator–boom! The corridor Barriss was trying to escape through–the same one the clones were coming from–collapsed in a shower of dust and masonry, blocking her escape.

With little other choice, the Padawan raced to attack her again from the rear, and for a harrying moment Ventress had to fend off both Jedi. Thirty seconds in, and she came to understand their technique. Luminara Unduli utilised smooth and flowing–yet rapid–motions, each swing connecting into the other until her lightsaber blurred into a blinding river of bright green.

With each consecutive parry, Unduli’s form grew harder and harder to keep up with, sustaining her momentum in an impressive display of stamina–until Ventress found herself relying more on her instincts and the Force than her eyes to fend her off. Barriss, on the other hand, simply used a more sloppy version of Unduli’s technique, like a kitten trying–and failing–to mimic its mother.

Together, they drove her back against a wall. Ventress snarled, mustering all her anger to Force push them back before hacking at them with all the strength and rage she had. It wasn’t hard to access, all she had to do was imagine Ky’s lifeless form in her arms, and it made her want to crush this unjust world in vengeance.

“General Unduli,” the Jedi’s comlink beeped, “Enemy reinforcements are arriving. Is the Huttlet secure? We need to leave!”

Ventress pressed the offensive, exploiting the distraction– but with the Padawan in the way, she couldn’t hone in on the openings in Unduli’s stance. The longer this fight goes on, the smaller the chances of her winning. Ventress could feel her assault sapping the strength from her arms, and her breathing growing heavy. She had to finish this quickly.

“What’s the situation!?” the Jedi Master demanded.

“The Seps ambushed the fleet, sir! Guarlara is out of action, and the Tranquility has taken heavy damage while retreating. They’ve sent three droid transports down here, we can’t hold them off for much longer!”

“Identify my coords from the comm signal,” Unduli grunted as she parried, “We have the Huttlet. Get us an evac and a medic!”

“–Looks like there’s a landing pad to your south, sir!”

Almost comically, all three heads snapped to the south exit of the chamber. Ventress immediately backstepped to detonate the tunnel, but Unduli lunged forward and swung down on her hand. Ventress barely caught it, only for the Jedi to catch her saber in a disadvantaged angle and whipping it out of her grip with a violent twist. Barriss outstretched a hand, and wrenched the detonator from her wrist with the Force.

Ventress snatched her saber back with a Force pull, but before she could counterattack, she felt a presence behind her. Twirling, she raised her lightsabers just in time to deflect a blaster bolt.

Clones were rushing towards the vault from the south tunnel, from the landing pad. The gunship must have already arrived. As Ventress batted away bolt after bolt, she extended her senses to take stock of her situation.

Unduli and the clones were nearer to the exit, while the Padawan and Huttlet were closer to the holding cells they came from. She was between them and the exit. Should she seek the Jedi dead, or take the Hutt and the Padawan? Ventress couldn’t do both. Adrenaline and endorphins flooding her bloodstream were keeping her afloat, but it wouldn’t last. The only choice was now between a bad result and a worse one.

Dooku can rage at her later.

With a roar, Ventress shoved Unduli away with all the Force she could muster, sending her flat against the far wall.

“Master!” Barriss shouted.

Ventress deflected a bolt back into a clone before twirling around and pouncing on the Padawan, intent on pushing her further towards the holding cells. A distant explosion rocked the volcanic rock of the plateau. Ventress thought it sounded like a Republic gunship crashing. She allowed herself a small, victorious smile–so Bonteri had come through.

“General!” a clone shouted, “They’re cutting us off! We need to go, now!”

Luminara Unduli was already back on her feet, tense and ready to attack her rear. Ventress gritted her teeth, drawing on the Dark Side to buoy her exhaustion for just a little longer, hacking and slashing at the Padawan’s crumbling defence.

“They’re on the platform!” a clone shouted from further down the corridor.

“General!”

Unduli looked about ready to ignore the clone’s desperate plea and help her apprentice, until something dark flashed through the Padawan’s otherwise bright blue eyes. Ventress was shoved back by a weak Force push, but the Padawan used that opening nonetheless–slinging the Hutt around and hurling the screaming slug across the chamber.

“No!” Ventress snarled.

She swivelled to grab the Huttlet with the Force, only for Unduli to contest her. Ventress was just about ready to rip the slug in half–she could still pin its death on the Jedi–but Barriss lunged at her rear, shattering her concentration.

“Go, Master!” she shouted, “I’ll hold her off!”

“Barriss!”

For the first time since encountering her, Ventress could feel Unduli’s controlled panic in the Force for a split second–and then it chilled into cold steel. She screamed in frustration, tossing aside a saber to directly snag Barriss’ off-hand, twisting it open with a crack and catching the detonator as it fell. With the last of her energy, Ventress threw the girl into the tunnel with the Force as far as she could, before squeezing the device and collapsing it on top of her.

There was a shriek– and then silence.

She only allowed herself a heartbeat to catch her breath, then heeled around to pursue.

Ventress chased them through the passages and up a flight of ancient stone stairs, mercilessly cutting down any clone who dared to think they could slow her down for more than a fraction of a second. The walls lightened as sunlight reached them, and the tunnel opened into a landing platform.

She arrived just in time to see the gunship taking off, Luminara Unduli staring down at her with icy blue eyes, the Huttlet already in the arms of a medic.

“So you are just going to leave her!?” Ventress screamed, half in frustration and half in derision.

Unduli didn’t answer her, all the way until the blast hatches of the gunship closed. Ventress watched in helpless rage as the Jedi escaped with the Huttlet. Dozens of gunships were retreating back to the Acclamator, which was pulling out of the atmosphere as well. Already she couldn’t differentiate the Jedi’s ride from the rest.

Distantly, Ventress heard the uniform clanking of battle droids. Above, vulture droids and Republic fighters were engaged in a dogged airborne battle, each side struggling to come out over the other. The mangled and eviscerated parts of droids littered the ground in grotesque fashion, shot to pieces and cut apart by a lightsaber. She resisted the urge to kick a decapitated head.

It was childish, and they didn't deserve it. They did their duty, which is more than she can say for herself.

Ventress closed her eyes, stowing away her lightsabers.

“Ventress to air control,” she spoke to her comlink, “Do you read me? Pursue the gunships and destroy them– don’t let them reach the troopship!”

The vultures chirped back, immediately breaking from their dogfights.

“Mistress,” 4A-7 contacted her, “I’m arriving at your location now.”

Ventress shifted her gaze, noticing the stale grey of Ziro the Hutt’s spice freighter skimming over the mist below. As she impatiently waited, shifting from foot to foot, she suddenly felt a spike of pain and confusion in the Force.

Her lips thinned. The Padawan is still alive.

?

Barriss wasn’t sure when the weight on her chest lifted, only that she could suddenly breathe again. Keeping her body extremely still, she blearily opened an eye by a fraction. After the blur subsided, she realised everything was alarmingly grey, and that her body ached to all hells and back.

Either she was dead, which felt remarkably like being alive, or she somehow survived a castle falling on her head. It took some time to work out her situation; she was leaning against the wall of a starship–apparently on the floor, considering how her bottom ached with the vibrations–and her hands and legs were bound together by stuncuffs. She couldn’t feel her saber on her hip, leaving the space naked and cold.

They took me prisoner, Barriss realised.

Master Luminara… did you manage to escape with the Huttlet? She tentatively reached out with the Force to find out– a stupid mistake, she soon berated herself.

“So you’re awake–” Barris recognised that rasping drawl, “–Be a dear and stay where you are.”

Barriss finally opened her eyes, knowing there was no way she could fool a Sith Assassin like Asajj Ventress. She deigned not to answer, instead taking her time observing her surroundings. They had put her in the pilot cabin of a small starship–a spice freighter, from the smell–and left her on the floor just behind the two pilot seats. Probably so they can keep an eye on her. And by they– there was Ventress, and a familiar droid.

“You’re that ‘caretaker droid,’” her gut twisted.

“And you are Barriss Offee,” the droid did even look at her, “A Jedi Padawan.”

We trusted you, she wanted to say, but kept it inside of her. For now, she had to find a way to escape.

“Don’t try,” Ventress read her mind, standing up, “Take it from here, Four-Ei. Barriss Offee, was it? You were half dead when I found you–don’t make me waste all that effort keeping you alive.”

“You should’ve just killed me,” Barriss sniped, “You’ll regret this.”

The assassin’s lips twisted, “Your Master certainly thinks so… killing you, that is. Not sure about the regret part… after all, she seems to think the life of a Hutt is worth much more than yours.”

“The lives of millions,” Barriss retorted, “The war effort is more important than me. You’ve failed, assassin. Master Luminara has Rotta, and you can’t catch her. You’ve failed.”

Ventress’ lips parted, baring her teeth, “So you understand that I want to… even the score. I hear your Master will be on Christophsis for your little counterattack, and I want to know exactly on which front I can find her.”

Barriss immediately flooded her mind with white noise, “There will be dozens of Jedi on Christophsis. You won’t even reach her.”

“At least you’re not lying about the first part.”

“I won’t tell you anything either,” she mustered what bravado she had, “Why not just kill me? You get to kill a Jedi, and I won’t have to suffer your face any longer.”

If Barriss couldn’t escape, then she had to die. She mustn't let the Separatists get anything out of her. She had to protect Master Luminara, and everyone on Christophsis. Barriss stiffened her resolve. I am one with the Force, death doesn’t scare me. She tried to stamp down on the niggling hesitation still inside.

Ventress released an amused snort, “Jedi, you? I can kill you with my eyes closed, girl. Do not flatter yourself.”

Barriss felt a rush of indignation welling up in her breast, but mercilessly crushed it. Ventress was trying to get a reaction out of her, and she mustn’t give her the satisfaction. She drew on Master Luminara’s teachings, emptying her mind and distancing her emotions. Her face flattened–just the thought of Master Luminara gave her calm and control. And by the Force, she needed control right now.

“Why do you even try, Barriss?” Ventress’ voice lightened, putting her off, “Why do you bother serving the Jedi? They don’t care what happens to you– even your precious Master left you for dead. They don’t care about anything other than their pleasant, comfortable Coruscanti lives with their high towers and soft cushions.”

Ignore her, Barriss, she told herself, this is the seduction of the Dark Side. Ignore her!

“Don’t you see?” Ventress knelt in front of her, “You are nothing but a tool for your Master’s ego. She won’t try to save you, and she doesn’t want to feel guilty for abandoning you, so she’ll prefer to think you're dead. You’re a tool, one to be discarded and replaced at pleasure. Your Master will waltz back into the Jedi Temple and request a new Padawan without a second thought.”

“We’re fighting to free the galaxy from your and Count Dooku’s tyranny,” Barriss looked away, focusing on ignoring her cajoling, “Sacrifice is necessary. I won’t give you anything, so you should just kill me.”

“Sacrifice?” Ventress laughed mockinly, “Is this what you call sacrifice? You’ll serve them, fight for them, and when you’ve served your purpose they’ll leave you to rot and die like they left my Master!”

Ventress gripped her chin to force her to look at her, “And then they’ll call it ‘sacrifice.’ You’ll be lucky if one of them sheds a tear at your ‘sacrifice,’ but mark my words in a week from now they’ll have already forgotten all about you. The Jedi do not deserve your servitude, nor your loyalty, don’t you see?”

This is personal for her, Barriss realised. Ventress wasn’t even pretending to mask the tidal waves of loathing and hatred she had for the Jedi. No– Barriss didn’t even have to sense it through the Force, her emotions were plainly written all over her face. Ventress meant every single word as if she had seen what she spoke of firsthand, converting all her pain into deep, focused rage.

Barriss stared into the Sith’s eyes. They were pale, blue, obsessive, and so disturbingly full of life.

We made her our enemy somehow, she realised. Ventress wasn’t just an assassin-for-hire, or some mindless Sith drone, she did what she did out of personal principle. Did she say Master? Was Ventress once a Jedi? The thought sickened her to the bone.

What if her words– no, stop. It was her words that were dangerous, more dangerous than her lightsabers could ever be. This is all part of her trick, her game. Focus, this is all the game of the Dark Side. She’s trying to bait me, so just ignore her. Distance your emotions. Distance. Master Luminara made it look all so easy.

“Twilight, this is Repulse,” the ship’s comms broke the tension, “You are cleared for landing through starboard hangar.”

“Copy that,” the spy droid said.

Ventress’ grip tightened for a brief moment, then disappeared, pulling away.

“They’ll abandon their morals when it suits them, Barriss,” Ventress softened, as if consoling her, “You know this, isn’t that why you came all the way to Teth? They’ll abandon you when it suits them– they did abandon you, like they did my Master. Both of us, we are the same. It doesn’t matter who we are, we’re all expendable. I decided they didn’t deserve my loyalty… so how about you forget all those Jedi teachings and think for yourself? Why not decide for yourself whether they deserve your loyalty, your sacrifice?”

Ventress pulled away and returned to her seat, leaving Barriss alone to stew in her thoughts. It was the most harrowing experience of her life, and she didn’t even see a single lightsaber. Barriss closed her eyes, seeking comfort in Master Luminara’s wisdom. Master Luminara would know what to do in this situation… so what would she do?

Barriss knew; stay calm, stay resolved, stay quiet. Don’t give them anything. Play for time, and wait for rescue.

Ventress was lying, she had to be. Master Luminara wasn't like that, she will rescue her, she knows it… but a part of her was still disturbed about how easily Ventress’ words struck an unwelcome chord.