Turnabout

Emily still didn't feel good about having to leave someone with these pirates, but if the Alliance were going to get their position, that was something. It didn't make everthing seem quite so final. In any case, there wasn't much else Emily herself could do at this point; and she did want to get this over with, desperately.

"Thanks, Nasiri", she said, and tried to smile, only with partial success - she was much too tense right now, it seemed to have actually become worse now that the end was so clearly in sight.

She opened the door, looked out, and found the corridor empty. Doing as told, she walked down it swiftly and hoped intensely that Nasiri would direct her safely.

Char only nodded at the Sith's promise, eyes flinty. He was not particularly impressed with her fury - but the fact that she'd controlled it meant she got to live a little longer. Her continual raging was beginning to wear on his patience.

"I can too fight," Zei'ira said as they walked up to the door.

"But I'd rather you two didn't," Char grumbled, interposing himself between the Twi'lek and the Zabrak.

"Why does she szeenk I'm a slut?" Zei'ira asked Char in an undertone.

"You're half-dressed," Char pointed out.

Zei'ira snorted derisively, though she uncomfortably crossed her arms over her chest. Humans were so weird about clothes. "So are you!"

"Oh, aye." Char grinned toothily, completely unashamed to be walking around wearing little more than a pair of pants. He was also not afraid; unlike many who habitually wore heavy armor, Char had learned to function just fine without it. He had, after all, learned something when he studied with the Jedi. "Wanted to lull 'em into a false sense of security, I did."

Zei'ira fell silent, though not without grumbling under her breath about double standards, crazy Jedi, and petty jealous red-skinned bitches.

"We already know the path to the exit, Miss Poletja," Phoenix said through the Dark Eye droid's vocabulator after the Sith made her announcement. "Torture would be imprudent."

"What my ship means to say is," Char said, "it's a waste a' time an' it makes ya no better'n them what sent ya to die on my blade. Kill 'em clean." He gestured with his lightsaber, reaching out with the Force to squeeze their hearts, dropping them in seconds - they never suspected an attack. He cast a stern glare at the Zabrak while the two pirates slumped to the ground. Her lack of empathy and complete lack of compassion was not a surprise, of course, but it still galled him. He wasn't sure whether he was more irate at the people who would raise a child like that, or at the woman who refused to grow past her upbringing. "Don' worry, Red. We'll get you spun up on how not to blow an op yet." He glanced at Zei'ira. "Can see how they lost the war, eh?"

"You are a very strange person," the Twi'lek girl replied, mystified. Was he taunting the Sith? He was no Jedi, that much was clear to her - Jedi didn't kill, not like that.

Char merely chuckled as he motioned for the Zabrak to resume the lead. "They ought t' have some pistols," he said to the Sith. "At the least, they'd have a blade or two. I doubt it's anything so fancy as cortosis-weave, but it'll do for our purposes. Keep goin' 'til we hit that there T-intersection, then take a left. We're headin' for the stern, an' right now we're in the middle of the ship."

---

Nasiri glided silently alongside Emily, her footsteps silenced by the sonic dampeners on her boots. She was silently grateful that thus far they had managed to elude detection and a raised alarm; if things managed to keep going so smoothly, they'd be aboard the Phoenix before anyone knew what was going on.

"Up ahead, take a right," Phoenix said over Nasiri's internal comlink. "You will find yourself nearing the access hatches to the maintenance shafts. You should evade detection by our enemies - both yourself and Miss Sodhrin are petite enough to maneuver through them."

"You do love me," Nasiri commed back.

"Ours must remain a forbidden love," Phoenix deadpanned.

Nasiri giggled, covering her mouth to stifle it. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the AI was just a computer.

"Fi suggests the maintenance shafts," Nasiri said in an undertone to Emily, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning in close enough that her lips almost touched her ear. In part it was because she didn't want to be overheard but also because she knew Emily just didn't like to be touched. Nasiri simply didn't have it in her to pass up the opportunity for mischief. "Open it up, hon. I'll keep an eye out here while you do, and then I'll go in first. Okay?"

A light snort was the only indication that Vrag had heard the Twi'Lekk's remark, but for once she chose not to respond verbally. Instead she just shot a nasty look Jensaarai's way, regarding him with cold contempt. Sooner or later, she'd find a way to get back at the man who had bested her in combat. With grudging respect for her former captor she turned away, muttering intelligible expletives in guttural Sith. She was, however, not beyond rolling her eyes excessively at the banter behind her back. How on Eriadu did I manage to get myself into this? she bemoaned in her mind, all too happy to put a few preciously long meters between herself and the irritating pair.

She almost jumped out of her skin at the sudden metallic voice that came from the droid floating behind the Jensaarai's back. She swallowed a squeal that would've ruined all of the reputation she'd spent so many years amassing, and poured her surprise into the angry tone of her voice. "How does that schutta of a droid know my name?" she sneered, eyes two red, enraged slits. Dread she was loathe to show was spreading quickly through her veins; everything was falling in place. Was there really any other explanation for the Jensaarai's state of readiness, let alone his knowledge about her? How he overcame the assault she'd spent months preparing, planning and calculating? The damned ease with which he dismissed her? What was left of her heart hitched with the unimaginable, unconceivable thought.

Would father really send me off to die like this? Her throat was suddenly dry and her mind so blank that she barely flinched when the pair of thugs crumbled to the floor like marionettes whose strings had been cut. "Hmm?" she jerked her head to face the man who had addressed her, blinking in confusion. Her response was weak when her befuddled brain finally provided her with the necessary data: "We didn't lose. It was a…tactical retreat," the Sith grumbled, annoyed by her own lack of proper anger. She ought to have cast him into the deep space for what his claims. Alas, she was left with little other choice but to follow the grinning man, waiting for the right opportunity to take the reins of the situation for herself.

With the nauseating epiphany pushed way back into the dark recesses of her mind, she was free to plough on. "Very well," she murmured more to herself than to the Jensaarai, dropping into a low guard. When she passed by the dead pirates, she rummaged around their utility belts for anything useful and emerged with a wicked leer on her face and a short vibroblade in her hand. Better than nothing, she smirked at the small victory and rounded the corner.

Now armed and therefore in a tangibly better mood, the Sith trod happily on, the sound of her feet on the metal floor barely audible to the humanoid ear. She was still flexing her wrists, warming up for the impending fighting, when the sound of lively rapport amongst crass men floated down the corridor. "Well?" she lifted an eyebrow and directed a mock inquisitive look at the Jensaarai. "Would it be too imprudent to kill these," she tilted her head to the side in an effort to listen to the men, "four? Five? Or do I have permission to smash their skulls in?"

[yeah, really sorry for the lack of reply. It's sorta busy down here, but I replied as quickly as I was able.]

Her head jerked around so fast she could swear she heard something snap in the back of her neck. "Dossiers?!" the outraged woman exclaimed, a look of disbelief crossing her face. "Like hell they have!" with a guttural growl, the Zabrak turned on her heels muttering about lying electronic constructs under her breath. Had she been less immersed in her own grumbling, she might've overheard the calm words the Jensaarai uttered to the blue-skinned Twi'Lekk, but the sound of her own denial obscured everything else. His chuckle, however, did reach her ears. A derisive snort was all that came from the Sith in lieu of response, and she sent the man a single chilling glance. "Mayhap," the cold word rang icily in the tense atmosphere.

His approval was never necessary for the red woman to throw herself into the fight; it was merely a mockery of the Jensaarai's apparent need to control everything. What's life without a little chaos? she mused, entertained, just as the slobbering monsters bolted from around the corner and into the corridor they were in. Her body sang in joy as her muscles flexed to avoid the felled body of the first garral, propelling her over the skidding carcass and straight onto the back of the next charging beast. She fought with her natural born fury, with the stunning force of her ancestry and with the sheer strength of the wicked and the fallen. Despite being armed only with a short-issue vibroblade, she looked akin to a war goddess, completely devoted to reining death where at all possible.

There was a rising presence beside her, rushing across the bulk of the pirate ship like a grand tidal wave, sweeping everything in its path and leaving only scarred, panting mortals in its wake. A smug smile drifted on the Sith's face as she came to a measured halt, her battle-fury surprisingly disciplined. There were bound to be much more and it would be…imprudent, of all things, to waste precious energy on mere hounds. And how right she was.

The first shot grazed her right bicep and the Zabrak hissed in sudden pain; she'd been a pile of charred meat and charcoal bone if it weren't for her sharp reflexes. Vrag threw herself aside, landing hard and fast on her left side. Momentarily out of breath, the Sith fought off the glancing laser bolts with gestures of her left hand, altering the shots' trajectory ever so slightly; just enough for them to miss her. She bit down on her lip, hard, and leapt to her feet, catching the blade in the firm grip of her left hand, while the other continued to fend off the pirates' laser bullets. "Come on, you schuttas!" she roared to the released prisoners behind her back, not bothering to look over her shoulder; it could very well cost her her life. Instead she kept tight focus on the incoming shots, inching slowly towards the first two thugs whose face grew increasingly worried over the next seconds.

And then she was upon them with a single powerful lounge, killing those last few meters and lopping the first one's head clean off. The surprise attack wore of quickly, though, and with grace becoming a Sith of Poletja heritage, she danced with the men again, avoiding the shots as well as jabs of their knives.