Bravado

Notes: If I make any mistakes in regards to the 'Star Wars' universe, my apologies. It is unintentional.


Chapter 1

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Amid the confusion, a cloaked figure moved with single-minded precision towards his new goal. Eedu was dispatched, quite dead but not forgotten. The Hutt merchant had somehow managed to set off a series of explosions from his chambers that was burning out of control across the upper quarters of the port. The fire engulfed the primary docking bay . . . and Maul's transportation. He was only momentarily annoyed at the inconvenience. There were a number of ships in the lower bays and any of them would serve to get him out of the system unnoticed. Chaos was his cover. The panic around him served a purpose, and even if he hadn't directly caused it, it pleased him. No one would remember he had ever been here.

Pausing at a window, he could see the smaller ships, many already making hasty departures. It had only been a matter of perhaps three minutes since the detonations began. Several ships had opened fire on each other and the amount of debris was going to be a hazard in itself. Another obstacle, another test. There was one good prospect, a transport that looked Corellian made. Well-armed and fast, not too big. The engines weren't powering up, so he had the few moments he needed to board. The crew . . if they were lucky, they weren't there yet.

The mob of people fighting for a berth on any ship grew more intense. The noise level had risen past deafening and smoke rolled in the air, polluting it, making it hard to see and harder to breathe. The small and weak had no chance. Some ill-concieved human made a move to stop him near the rampway. For a heartbeat, the man looked at him, looked into his eyes and knew the mistake he had made would cost him his life. Maul left him decapitated with one fluid motion before he had a chance to make his challenge verbal. The flash of his lightsabre was brief and brilliant, and a tiny flicker of a smile passed over his face as he surveyed the quick, clean result.

There was a fight in progress for his new ship. The walls along the ramp were scorched black from blaster fire and a dead humanoid lay on the catwalk a deck below. Five more were grappling over which of them would get aboard first. None of them struck Maul as being crewmembers, or even capable of flying the craft. He surged forward at them, leaving two dead, cleaved apart with his lightsabre. The third was close enough to grab and he threw him off the walkway, a brief scream cut short. The remaining pair were grappling for a blade. He let them. A moment after he stepped onboard, the ship's engines fired, vibrating the entire walkway in an obvious overload of its cells.

With the hatch closed behind him, Maul could see the way to the cockpit was shut. Very likely locked or jammed, the pilot well-aware of what was happening outside. The ship jolted as another explosion ripped through the station.

"If you are going to depart, you should do it right now." Maul spoke calmly on the intercom to the pilot, careful with the use of his voice. There was no indication of The Force within the human pilot on the other side of the ship.

"I know," a very young-sounding voice spoke back, tense but not panicked. "The moorings are jammed." A metallic clang outside the ship verified this to him. "My pilot is dead, and we will be if you don't maunally release us."

Maul ripped the cover from the keypad. "Command code."

"Seven-six, seven-five, five-nine, zero-nine, nine."

"Go!" He barked the order and grabbed for a safety rail as the ship dropped out of dock for two full seconds before it recovered, shuddering, and began to pull away from the station.

"Lightspeed in five . . ."

"You are too close. The gravity will rip us apart."

"Three. Two. Now."

Maul watched the stars blur and turn black, wondering for a moment if they were about to fly into a nearby star. The pilot . . . no, the pilot was dead . . . the co-pilot was brave, brash or foolish. He meant to find out which.

Stalking forward, Maul demanded "Open the door." There was no reply. He slammed a gloved fist into it twice. When there was still no response, he concentrated his focus, his Force to a fine pinpoint, dragging the door back more easily than he could have opened it physically.

The figure slumped over the controls had not gotten aboard unscathed. Maul pushed the small human back in the seat. The scent of it alone told him female. She was bleeding from her shoulder and forehead. Tiny, intricate markings curved from the corner of her left eye onto her cheekbone, not natural nor an injury but an indication of her status in her clan. Aurian. Primative, tribal humans that had ventured off their homeworld only a handful of generations ago, and still tended to keep to themselves. As far as he could remember, and his memory was very good, they weren't even part of the Republic. He had never seen a hologram of an Aurian, let alone crossed pathes with one.

The configurations of the controls were unknown to Maul, and that in itself surprised him. If he had to fly it himself, he would be guessing and they had already made a jump to lightspeed without any calculations. Sighing, he picked her up, making his way down the short corridor and depositing her in the nearest bunk. "If there is a medical droid on board, your co-pilot is in need of repair." He only had to wait a moment as a small mechanical eye peered around the corner and beeped a question at him. He pointed at the female. He needed her alive. Besides the fact killing her was pointless - it lent nothing to his training nor his cause. His curiosity was piqued.

"This should be interesting." He thought out loud, surveying the armaments hidden carefully in the center of the load of prefabricated building materials. Maul doubted she was living within the Republic. He remembered a brief mention of her kind, from ancient texts he had read years ago. The original Aurians were said to kept intricate histories of the Jedi - bloodlines, alliances, every bit of information that could be gleened from vast resources. He was the second Sith in four thousand years, and he had found her . . . or had she found him? What exactly she was, he would certainly discover.

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After he had finished inspecting the ship, Maul peered in where he had deposited the female. The medic-droid was sitting in a corner next to the bunk, humming quietly. It had stripped off her flightsuit, sealed the nasty cut over her eye and left her shoulder neatly bandaged. A blanket covered her from the waist down and she was sleeping, albeit restlessly.

Apparently, she wasn't the child he had first thought. Her pale skin drew his gaze more than he was comfortable with. Unmarred, too, with soft curves and a scent that could drive him to distraction. He didn't need distraction. Similar markings to those on her face continued, a spiral pattern across her left breast and collarbone that terminated somewhere on her back. As relentless as his training was, Maul had to stop to think when the last time was he had been with a female. Quite some time.

The medic-droid reached over and drew the blanket up to her chin, chirpping its annoyance at his intrusion. Maul was amused. It seemed to be standing guard over her.

Taking the quarters across the hall, he dropped his cloak over the end of the bunk and stripped out of his robes. Any change in the speed of the ship, or any movement from her would immediately awaken him. Placing his lightsabre against the bulkhead, he closed his eyes. It had been a long day. It had been a good day. Lord Sidious' enemy was no longer.

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Something in the Force moved, shifted, just a breath. Just enough to wake Maul from a light sleep. Nothing on the ship had changed, he observed without moving. He waited. Still nothing. And then . . . the ship emitted a quiet signal, one that someone in these quarters would not easily detect unless they were listening for it. Smugglers invented some interesting security devices. He certainly wouldn't make the mistake of assuming the female had no knowledge of the ship's contents or capabilities. He rose and dressed, meaning to check the bridge before he went in search of food.

There was a timer flashing on the navigational board. It indicated less than an hour standard time until . . . something. Probably when they would drop out of light speed. "Aurian" he spoke on the intercom.

"On my way." Indeed, a few moments later she appeared, clothed but obviously just awakening.

Maul waited for her reaction to his appearance. He had purposely left his hood down.

The Aurian stared at him. He was only a hand's width taller than her. And the horns - he was both more and less frightening than she expected. He was certainly real to her, now that she faced him. Despite the fact he wasn't the immense figure she had imagined, his presence was more imposing than she could have been prepared for. Breaking her gaze, she looked past him to the board. No panic or fear, or anything.

"She's practiced at hiding her emotions", he thought. Interesting. "Where did you plot the course to?"

"The computer picked up the nearest clear field. I don't know where. I don't know how long it will take us to get back to a traffic lane. My cells weren't charged when we made the jump. They could die the moment we leave hyperspace."

"You are not the co-pilot, you are the pilot." Maul stated. "I could see that, from the way you handled the ship. Why did you attempt to decieve me?"

She regarded him carefully, and he did see fear. "I have lost my crew. I have no authority in the Republic, only in the few systems ruled by my homeworld."

"And this is not one of them," Maul smirked.

"No." She couldn't help but stare at his eyes. The Elders had been right. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. "Wh . . . what do I call you?"

"Sarin."

"Da'Kota."

"Is that your name or your rank?" he leered, testing the limits of her false bravado.

"My name. Is 'Sarin' your real name or just the one you use when you aren't sure if you'll end up in Republic space or not?" She wished she hadn't said it the second the words left her mouth, wished common sense would prevail just once.

Darth Maul smiled, and it was a predatory look, nothing of kindness or amusement.

"I'd like to send a message to our caravan fleet, to let them know I survived the attack on the staton." Da'Kota regarded him cautiously. "I . . . did survive the attack?"

He considered it. "You did. You will accompany me until I see fit to release you. A week's time, no more." If anyone was looking for him, he reasoned, they would be looking for a single assasin, not a Lord and his slave. In these backward, semi-civilized systems, they would believe any story he told them.

"If I don't agree?"

"You gave me your command code. I was led to believe you wanted to survive, but I can fly this without your assistance. Now, agree and cooperate, or not."

She knew a threat when she heard one. "Whatever you want. I agree."

"We shall see," Maul told her.

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