Sanctuary

The Order had fallen, the Jedi now viewed as criminals who were to be captured or killed.  Most of what Lizvett had seen was in the latter camp, especially when the clone troopers had marched on the Temple and started mowing down anyone in sight.  

If she had been more experienced in combat, she would have held her ground and fought back like the majority of them.  Instead, when the sounds of blaster fire and lightsabers sounded, she’d climbed into an air duct and scrambled her way to the garbage chute on elbows and knees in a blind panic.  The chute dropped her down below the Temple in a pile of trash, which she had half climbed, half swam out to an ingress/egress hatch that spilled her into Coruscant’s underworld.  She had looked a mess, which had helped her to blend in.  Her lightsaber had been ditched in the trash to get rid of any sort of incriminating evidence.  She wasn’t any good when it came to handling it anyways.  Lizvett found some grubby cast-off clothing in a bin that reeked of food gone bad and swapped out some of her robes for them.  She didn’t mind the smell.  At this point, she didn’t mind anything as long as she remained alive.

A few mind tricks and stowing away on freighters got her to her destination a couple of days after the catastrophe.  She kept her head low and didn’t pay too much attention to the HoloNet, but people she was around talked: the Jedi had tried to overthrow The Chancellor and were now enemies of the Republic, which was now The Empire, reorganizing into something that filled her with foreboding as strict rules were implemented.

Lizvett now had no purpose in life with the Order being wiped out, and survivors hunted like womp rats.  She had turned to the only person she could think of and hoped that her harsh refusal of his offer just two years ago wouldn’t taint his thoughts towards her now.  They were family after all, surely he would take that into consideration?

Looking suitably dirty and unrecognizable, she had arrived at his gleaming estate and allowed herself to be seen and apprehended by his guards, acting as though she had been skulking around to steal or spy.  She was brought directly to him.

Duvek Kasteele stood in a gleaming study with its windows facing a lush jungle at his back.  A bank of holoscreens showed various parts of his empire, from the spice mines to the refineries.  Gauzy curtains made the room feel smaller, more cozy, the smell of some sort of soothing incense burning in the background as caged, feathery avians chattering from their spherical hanging cells.

Lizvett’s hands were intertwined in front of her, gripping each other so tightly that she could feel the bones ache.  She had hit rock bottom and then some.  She felt cowed, and the look on Kasteele’s face said he was enjoying this reversal.  She didn’t have it in her to hate him for it.  She was too miserable and desperate.

“Leave us,” Kasteele said to the guards with a wave of the hand.  They left, the massive doors sliding shut behind them.

The way he was looking at her felt like the way a hunted animal must feel in the presence of a predator.  Lizvett quickly dropped her gaze to the tiled floor.

“My daughter, the fugitive,” Kasteele stated with obvious amusement in his voice. “How does it feel to be just like your father now?”

“I need your help,” she replied quietly, her whole demeanor acquiescing.  She kept her eyes aimed at the ground, afraid to look up and see a scowl or gloating smile.

Kasteele took a few steps closer so that Lizvett could see the toes of his boots where she was staring.  A hand laid itself on her shoulder, causing her to jolt her head up.  Kasteele was neither looking ready to shoot her himself or turn her out.  He looked, surprisingly, pitying.

“Of course,” he said, drawing her into an embrace that had Lizvett going stiff with shock.  

Scorn, she expected.  Laughing in her face was to be expected with how she had treated him last time.  This...was not what she had thought would happen.

“How did you escape?” he asked softly.

“Air ducts,” Lizvett said, feeling her composure crumbling as tears pricked at her vision. “They came into the Temple and shot anything that moved.  I was in the Archives--I got to a vent and made it to the trash compactor, and--and it took me to the Underworld.  People didn’t know what was going on down there, or they didn’t care enough.  I was another vagrant to them.  They didn’t even give me a second glance.  I had to sneak onto freighters to come here.  You’re not mad?”

Kasteele drew back so he could see her face, his golden eyes studying her.

“You survived when so many others didn’t.  I think that’s testament to your bloodlines rather than your indoctrination.  You’ve made me proud, Lizvett.”

There were so many conflicting emotions in Lizvett’s chest that she couldn’t even begin to sort out how she felt about that.  A small sense of pride maybe.

“I can help you,” she said, voice trembling. “I can help influence buyers and rivals, and--and get rid of your rivals if you need that too”--she shook her head--”The Order is irrelevant now.  I’ll do what you need me to do.”

A small frown showed on Kasteele’s face.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that now,” he said a little sadly. “Begging is beneath you, Lizvett.  I would have expected negotiating, at least some sign of a backbone instead of groveling.”

He drew back, leaving Lizvett feeling suddenly vulnerable in the middle of the room.  Even the avians had stopped their incessant chittering.

“But--”

“A stronger child of mine would have come here to demand a position, not plead for one.  Consider this a life lesson, My Dear, if you live long enough to remedy your mistake in the future.”

Lizvett reached for a lightsaber that hadn’t hung on her belt in a week as the doors opened and a squad of bounty hunters spilled into the room.  She knew she couldn’t take them, not with her meagre Force skills and her even weaker combat skills.  Her eyes snapped onto the large windows as adrenaline began to flood her veins.  Lizvett took off for the transparisteel just as they began lining up their blasters, her hands outstretched in clawed form.  Something caught her in place, yanking her back.  She recognized her father’s face looking down at her as she struggled in his grip.

“Your choice if you’d rather be brought in dead or alive.  I’m not sure what use the Empire has for live Jedi, but I can only guess that you might prefer to be killed now rather than by their hands.”

Lizvett was breathing hard, a hand still aimed at the windows as they waved ever so slightly.  Something was powering up in her father’s free hand, something that made the ozone smell sharp in the air.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible for you,” he said, his voice soothing. “And that’s more than I can guarantee at the hands of my guards.”

All of the options before her were horrible, save for the one that was taking the longest to work.

“I--I don’t--”

Lizvett threw all of her concentration into the windows, feeling the particles that made them up and focusing on tearing them apart.  A hum had started to permeate in the room that had the bounty hunters looking around.  Even Kasteele’s focus was deterred, enough for Lizvett to make her move.  She wrenched her head to the side, grazing her horns into his chest and turning it into a spin.  The weapon in his hand buzzed by her ear, the sudden smell of burning all around and the weight of her hair that had been bound up in a tail dropping.  Shouting and blaster fire started.

The windows vibrated as if caught up in an earthquake, then started to shake harder so that the view outside grew opaque.  They blew outwards as she made it to them, leaping among the glittering fragments with the heat of bolts singing her clothes.  Her jump arced down towards the ground, where she landed and tumbled, got up and ran headlong for the jungle, her pursuit not far behind.