The rock and the hard place, Satele Shan had been here before.

“EVERYTHING. YOU GIVE US EVERYTHING, OR NO DEAL!”

Grim’s explosive weaponry sent most of the Sith scattering. Most but not all; the two most dangerous went straight for their targets. The brash and aggressive warrior came straight for Satele after deflecting a grenade shot in his direction with the Force. The softer toned speaker for the group went instead for Roana. The other Mandalorians seemed uncertain until Grim started screaming at them to secure the village and protect the Clan.

[i]Protect the Clan.[/i]

The very phrase made Satele grin. The Sith Warrior met her with an impressive array of strikes and feints and hard charges. Satele never rose her lightsaber to meet any of the challenges, she simply dodged each one with a slight movement this way, a turn of her shoulders that way, a quick twirl and a hop back, and on and on. It was a dance of movement and light. For any normal foe, the Sith Warrior would’ve carefully set up a chain reaction of dodges and back-steps that would have left Satele open on multiple vectors of her body.

She even faced him squarely in that moment. His anger against her, his passion for the power exemplified in Revan, his desire to prove himself by besting a famous descendant of the very Revan he worshipped. Seizing his chance he stabbed at her with the tip of his lightsaber. Had she not been planning the counter before the Warrior even swung his first swing at her, she wouldn’t have been so confident, it wouldn’t have worked so well. It was surprise she wanted. And the moment his lightsaber stopped at her open palm and went no further save for sizzle and steam, she saw his body pause as his mind grappled with what he was seeing. In those precious few beats of their hearts, Satele finally used her lightsaber, bringing it up for a single and decisive strike he had no check for. His body staggered back, in the same direction his severed head rolled, falling back and into the dirt and grass.

And then Satele screamed, as a lightsaber sliced across the back of her, her body arching forward and staging in the blood from the Warrior she’d just dispatched. She whirled about, and found the scattered Sith returned. Grim had three of them converging on him as he and Roana used the speeder as their hilltop in which to retreat no further. Flame spewed from wrists, Grim used several blinding grenades, and other Mandalorians started appearing, the battlefield filling with blaster bolts everywhere you turned, every moment you moved.

The fallen Sith Warrior’s purple lightsaber was brought to her hand and activated, as Satele switched to a more aggressive dual lightsaber attack against the three lesser Sith that had circled around and tried to sneak in the kill. Her back burned, she smelled blood and burnt flesh, unsure how much of either was her’s, and how much was just the result of the unfolding maelstrom.

“EVERYTHING THAT BELONGED TO YOUR PEOPLE.”

Satele screamed it louder than she meant to, the pain and adrenaline doing her in. A checked slash, a quick stab with the purple blade, lean left to avoid a heavy overhanded strike. Clumsy as it was she hadn’t the time to make the lesser Sith pay for it, but the THREE of them were so concerned with the attack that she was able to unleash a Force Push that sent two of them flying back. The other seemed to have braced herself, seemed to have saw it coming. That lesser Sith female’s purple lightsaber came straight at her. She dodged, but her right arm seared in pain as the blow glanced off.

Satele had all but forgotten about the very, very Mandalorian negotiation taking place.

“Deal,” was all Roana said before shooting the lesser Sith who’d seen Satele’s Force Push coming in the back of the skull with a blaster bolt aimed with incredible accuracy. Satele caught Roana’s gaze under that visor, and snorted, near snorting as she switched her attention back. Then…something happened. The Sith just broke off. Their speaker had been pushed by Grim and Roana’s flame, and the small rapid blaster canon that extended from the center console of Grim’s speeder. That was the moment Roana had agreed to the deal, before dispatching the Sith who’d gotten Satele’s arm.

Now the lone dangerous Sith on the field was gone. She sensed him nearby, but her focus changed the very next beat: the very moment she felt Brye reach out. Satele felt her heart nearly explode, as images of Aldeeraan and Jace and just getting there in the very last moment. She hadn’t been as tired or injured then, but her mind never seemed to consider that. She just ran. Grim said something to Roana, and Satele heard Grim’s speeder throttle up from what seemed like a distance behind her that grew exponentially foot step by foot step as Satele went straight through thick jungle instead of the long curving road through that dark jungle. The darkness, the humidity of the jungle, the sounds and sights of super predators reacting to the kinetic force ripping through their jungle—it all just blurred. She saw Brye. She saw Sith. She saw a ship.

The images cycled through her mind, one vision after another, until she felt as if her body untether from the very ground of Dxun.

Moonlight and warm air became her reality as her body flew up high enough for the air to move harder and faster and whip open wounds on her body. She never felt it, all she saw was the clearing with the Starshine and the other vessel climbing into the air: she was too late. Her mind raced, her body burned, and her only act was igniting the fallen Sith Warriors’ purple lightsaber she never dropped, and throw it as hard and as accurate as she could right at that Sith Imperial vessel. She was on the Starshine and firing up engines by the time Roana and Grim made it. Grim was talking into a communicator, never ever moving from the passenger seat. Roana was up the ramp and on the Starshine.

“The Sith have my Padawan.”

The Mandalorian woman stopped. Fear, was what Satele sensed. Not for the Padawan, for herself, for her Clan. This time Satele did audibly snort. “Our deal is still on if your Clan helps me here.”

Roana didn’t hesitate. She went straight to her own wrist communicator and hissed commands, “Sith Imperial ship is to be considered a hostile. Ground to air and fighters, now.”

Satele heard the words, but her mind didn’t let them sink. She was too busy with the Starshine’s engine checklist and the communication system on the Starshine. Her tone was flat, but under it’s surface was determination. Single-minded, laser focused, determination. She’d always had it. Her mother said she inherited it from their grandfather, who inherited it from his mother, who said their father had it, who said…it all came from Revan. Flip a coin, in the Shan family, and it was either Bastila or Revan.

Her eyes closed tight, lush lashes flicking and tightening shut, hands flat on the console. She had to calm down. She had to reign her own blood in. A single exhaled sigh, and the communication system was activated, sending.

“Sith Imperial vessel this is Jedi freighter Starshine. I am Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan. You have a squad of Mandalorian fighters scrambling to you,” she said, proving she HAD heard what Roana said a minute before even if she had never acknowledged it, “in addition to my vessel in pursuit. Land and release your prisoner and we will allow you to leave the system unharmed. Do anything else but exactly that, and may the Force be with you.”

The channel died, and the Starshine roared forward even as Roana was left to hang on and close the aft ramp.