The Old Sith Trials

The metal of the binders was still damp with Jephego’s own sweat as they were clapped once again around her outstretched wrists. With the odd medical exam over, Jephego was ready for the sweet, safe solitude of the ship’s brig and the little snack that likely awaited her there. The helmeted guard gave her skinny frame a once-over before roughly grabbing her shoulder and shoving her back out into the hallway.

Jephego walked with her head held high and chin tipped upward; her gait belied a natural swagger, a smoldering confidence… despite the strangeness of her situation. She never had been one to give in to feelings of doubt, fear, or sadness. Even with a rifle at her back.

But as they walked on and on through the seemingly endless hallways of the ship and entered into the holding cells area, Jephego and her warden were passed by a string of gurneys led by snarling Sith. Atop these gurneys lay the mangled forms of… Jephego counted. Five humanoid figures. She swallowed hard and dry as these forms were paraded by, and as the second to last passed, she saw the pale underside of a green forearm thrust gracelessly off the edge of the gurney that belonged to a body that was barely recognizable as Mikkian; emblazoned on it was the sigil belonging to a syndicate Jephego knew from the old days. Her shoulders slumped. These corpses were pirates.

Suddenly, her heart began to thump uncomfortably in her chest, and a fearful heat began to rise in her cheeks. Pirates. Would that be her fate? The reality of where she was— aboard a Sith-commanded ship— hit her hard and fast, knocking the wind and the small amount of optimism she held clean out of her. Clumsily, she stumbled, tripping over her own boots. Her knees came down on the metal deck hard. "Kark me," she hissed, pushing herself up off the ground—just in time to bump into the guard who was bending to help her up. Spurred by panic, she hurried to straighten, bringing her bound wrists up to tuck a loose lock of black hair behind a decorated ear. She took a wide step back, putting distance between herself and the fidgeting guard.

The guard cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on his rifle. "Move along." He said.

Jephego sucked on her tongue stud, half thoughtfully, half anxiously. She had to get out of custody before she became a Sith plaything.

Gesturing with his rifle for her to continue, Jephego momentarily locked her eyes on the black visor of the guard's helmet—and in it, she saw the wanton gleam of opportunity in its glossy surface.

This could be Jephego's one chance.

She wasn't good at it— being effeminate and flirtatious. Jephego was a lanky and narrow woman, tall and angled; not soft and curvaceous the way most sentients liked their women. But she could play coy if her life depended on it. Which in this case… it just might.

As Jephego turned to continue down the hallway, she rolled her shoulders just enough to make the left shoulder of her purple greatcoat with its gold fringed epaulette begin to slide off her frame. The loose lock of hair had fallen against her cheek again, but this time she made no move to tuck it behind her ear; she left it hanging in her face, stuck slightly by the sheen of sweat that had developed on her tan skin. She hoped that the nervy, hot flush that had risen in her cheeks looked more like a shy blush than it did a fearful one. Starting on down the hallway, the guard's rifle at her back again, Jephego cast a glance through her black eyelashes over her shoulder at the man behind her.

They carried on. They had passed a few doors that seemed to lead to— interrogation rooms…? Judging by the tortured screams from within them, at least— before rounding a corner and at last entering the area where the holding cells were. Jephego was led to the door of the last cell on the left; it seemed that the other guard hadn't arrived with the requested snack from the mess hall, yet. Good. Then the hallway should be relatively clear for just long enough, for Jephego's purposes.

The guard pulled a code cylinder off his belt and slotted it into the lock beside the cell door. It slid open with a noisy whoosh, and with a huff, the guard turned to Jephego. Jephego had backed herself up against the wall of the alcove leading to the cell's door, leaning casually, shoulders canted just so, loose jet-black baby hairs stuck to her flushed face. She flicked her tongue out to wet her lips.

“You know,” she began, pitching her voice low and giving it a rich purr, “That other guy doesn’t have to be the only one to get lucky with a pirate today.” Exaggeratedly, Jephego swung her head to look out into the hallway, making a point to see that no one was coming before returning her amber eyes to the guard.

Following Jephego’s lead, he also poked his head into the hall and looked back and forth, scanning to see if anyone was coming. He seemed to stop and think for a moment before shoving his rifle into its holster on his thigh and reaching up to slip off his white helmet. The guard was a man with mousey, ruffled brown hair and a plain, simple face; not young, but not old, either. “Let’s make it quick,” he said, gesturing towards the open cell door. Jephego grinned wide, revealing her pretty teeth in a sultry smile before ducking into the little room.

Tossing his helmet carelessly to the side, the guard’s hands were instantly on Jephego’s upper arms, pulling her close for a disgusting, sloppy kiss. Jephego allowed for it to happen, giving way and leaning in just enough for the guard to feel that she wasn’t resisting. His hands went here and there; under her greatcoat, on her neck, up her ribs… when it became clear he was about to cross a line, Jephego lifted her still-cuffed hands and pressed a finger to his wandering lips. She couldn't take much more of these clumsy advances… not when she was beginning to panic. "Not so fast, soldier," she said.

Jephego slid her jeweled fingers down the sides of the unhelmeted guard's face, feigning interest in his cheekbones and lips. Her mind was elsewhere, fervently gnawing on a bone of dread—she needed to get out of here, stat. She was taller than the guard, she passively noticed as his breaths came shorter and quicker. She gazed into his intrigued eyes; though her own merely stared back with a detached disinterest that bordered on disgust. Finally, her palms came to rest firmly on his cheeks, fingers like spider legs over his ears, then—crack! With a sharp twist, Jephego wrenched the guard's head to one side, snapping his neck, killing him. "Jendnouk," she growled in her native tongue as she eased the guard's body to the floor of the cell, lip curled back over her teeth, her one gold tooth and amber eyes flashing with a sinister glint.

As soon as his head hit the floor, Jephego was at the man's belt, crouched and rummaging through the pouches there for the prize she sought; the key to the cuffs still clamped around her wrists. Finding it, she hurriedly fumbled, awkwardly, to contort her hands and free herself. The stuncuffs fell away from her wrists and fell noisily to the ground— swearing silently, she snatched them up and stuffed them under the belt of the now-deceased guard. She also had enough presence of mind to grab the code cylinder that had unlocked the cell but minutes earlier. Glancing out the open door, she rose partially from her crouch and grasped the guard under his arms, lifting him enough to drag him into the far corner of the cell that had been intended for her. His head lolled almost comically as she schlepped him across the small room and dumped him haphazardly on the floor. Delivering a swift kick to his ribs, Jephego swore again.

Stuffing the cell's cylindrical key into her pocket, Jephego shrugged her coat back onto her shoulders all the way and drew her scimitar from its sheath on her right hip, gripping it tightly in her left hand. Stepping outside the cell and pressing herself up against the wall of the alcove again, Jephego waited for the second guard to arrive—the one bringing her snack, which she still had every intention of eating. As she waited, she tried to map out the route they had taken to get from the hangar to the holding cells; and as she did so, she could feel the ship shudder as it dropped into realspace. Kriff. So they would be embarking to planetside soon. Now her escape had become much, much more urgent.

Then, just as she was about to give up the ambush and make a break for it, the second guard carrying a canteen of water and small box of snack foods rounded the corner into the alcove leading into the open cell. In a flash, Jephego wrapped her lanky arms around the guard, covering his mouth with her free hand and drawing the edge of her vibrosword across his neck. The guard gurgled and thrashed, but Jephego's hold was firm. She waited until the struggling had stopped before dragging him into the cell and dumping him on top of his compatriot. Jephego grimaced at the trail of blood she'd left behind and the smears of it on her hands, but there was no time to fuss over it. Sheathing her sword and ducking out of the cell, Jephego scooped up the dropped snack and water canteen, placing them in the pockets of her coat, and closed and locked the cell door behind her.

Giving the hallway a quick sweep, Jephego immediately took off down the corridor at break-neck speed, her panic still nibbling away at her insides. She followed the map she'd drawn up in her mind, hoping she hadn't misremembered the route, ducking into doorways and around corners every time she saw a patrol, an officer, or Sith. Her heart had not stopped banging against her ribcage since it had started, and it was beginning to make her short of breath; she hadn't been this scared since the first time she'd gone on the run from Yana and her cronies. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Her boots continued to pound against durasteel as she made her escape towards the cargo hold she had originally stowed away in— but somewhere, she had made a wrong turn, and things began to look unfamiliar. Chanting obscenities under her breath like a mantra, Jephego searched for somewhere to tuck herself away out of sight, but suddenly— suddenly, there was an extreme aura of sickening malice that dropped on her like a heavy net, churning her stomach and dulling her senses. She slumped against a wall, sweat dripping from her face, before crumpling to the floor. Her head spun like an acid trip gone horribly, horribly wrong. But she couldn't stop here.

Fighting back the urge to vomit and pass out, Jephego pushed herself up from the floor just enough to crawl— only to find herself face-to-face with the group of Sith who had apprehended her just a little bit ago in the hangar, though with the addition of what appeared to be a Miraluka. Weakly, she grinned a sheepish grin.