Trap.
A second later, and my mind was once again securely encoded in German, and the Jedi Master in front of me flinched minutely.
...
"Your mental attacks will not work on me, Sith," she warned. "I shall give you this one opportunity to confess your crimes and meet death with some dignity."
"Mental attacks?" A balding man in green and purple asked, the alarm in his voice very apparent. Curiously, despite his losing battle with baldness, he looked to be the youngest of all the delegates in attendance.
"Not all assassins use real weapons, Rist," a man in brown and white robes commented. "I thought you of all people should realize that."
"There is no need for that Master Jedi," I said as calmly as I could, holding my hands out in front of me, palms forward. "Although I suspect I will need to rework my sales pitch. Asking this assembled group who here would like to see at least one Sith Lord dead would only invite injury."
Off to the side, someone chuckled, but I did not see who it was.
"Attempts at humor will not save you," the Jedi muttered. "The darkness is coming, and I will not allow you to bring it here."
Hang on, those words sounded familiar…
Further thoughts on the subject had to wait, though, as that yellow lightsaber swung up towards my head, forcing me to rapidly back away. The humming cylinder of death only narrowly missed my neck, and the backswing very nearly turned my chest cavity into a scorched cave of flesh.
Fortunately, I was very good at running away, even in a space as confined as this.
Weighing my options in a split second, I decided that I could not run away forever in the hope that someone else would solve my problems for me and finally drew my lightsaber. The blue blade sprang to life in my hands and knocked away a blow that would have gutted me.
The next blow came from above, aimed at my collarbone. I managed to deflect it away just in time, only to be forced to swing my weapon low to keep the follow-up blow from cleaving up through my ribs.
Unable to even dare to launch an attack of my own, I kept giving ground, stopping blows to my arm, chest, throat, and gut in a desperate defense.
Needless to say, it was not a good situation to be in.
After a worryingly close block that almost sent my weapon careening into my neck, an invisible wave of force slammed into my opponent, sending her flying a few feet away before recovering smoothly. The familiar feeling of the Little Jedi by my side was all the explanation I needed, and I lowered my guard.
With a hiss, my lightsaber deactivated and my most trusted ally stepped in front of me, her weapon raised in a high guard.
"Corrupting a Jedi?" the Jedi Master asked, letting the tip of her weapon bounce a few times in anticipation. Or perhaps to loosen up her wrist. "I was right to oppose you. You bring nothing but darkness to this place!"
"Master Sidonie, do you sense any darkness here?" the Little Jedi asked calmly. "I sense nothing of the sort."
The Jedi Master gave a mirthless laugh.
"There is always darkness, child," she said. "Where else would it come from? It must always flow from somewhere. And the darkness is coming. It is always coming."
"The only darkness I'm seeing is a Jedi Master picking fights," one of the delegates shouted back.
"Step aside, child." The Jedi Master did not acknowledge the peanut gallery, instead directing her gaze at the Little Jedi. "While you might still be redeemed, your corruptor must be removed first."
"Unfortunately, I want him alive," she answered.
"Unfortunate for you," came the retort, and the Jedi Master assumed a low guard. She looked ready to try and skewer the Little Jedi and me in one go. The Little Jedi shifted her guard in response, angling the blade across her body to knock any thrust to the side.
Presumably.
I was still standing behind her, after all.
Eh, she could take her. I had confidence in the Little Jedi.
That was when a new presence slammed into my mind, as radiant and overpowering as the Jedi Knight who was helping me hunt down Darth Angral. Accompanying the presence was the sound of two pairs of footsteps on stone and snow.
I turned my head slightly to reveal a tall woman in Jedi robes rushing in, tailed by a one-eyed humanoid lizard in combat armor. A Trandoshan, I corrected myself. Given the obvious hints, I identified the woman as the Jedi Consular and her companion as Qyzen Fess.
"Stop this at once!" the new Jedi called out.
"The peace talks?" I asked, unable to help myself.
"The fighting!" she said. "Master Sidonie, put your weapon down. I can help you!"
"Help me?" she asked. "Unless you plan on helping me bathe this world in fire to free it of the coming darkness, there is nothing you can do to help me."
"Honored delegates, if you would be so kind as to step to the far side of the table?" I asked. "I have a feeling this situation might escalate."
"It already escalated!" the Thul delegate shouted. "How can it escalate any further?"
"You really want to find out?" I asked.
The Trandoshan growled something in that unintelligible tongue of his and drew his weapon - a metal staff with arcs of electricity playing around the ends. The Jedi he accompanied likewise drew her weapon - a green lightsaber.
And I, deciding not to let a perfectly good PR opportunity go to waste, took up position between the Jedi Master and the table that now sheltered the gaggle of delegates. For the second time that day, my lightsaber sprang to life. For the first time that day, I liked my chances while wielding it.
"Master Sidonie, you are sick," the Jedi said calmly. "I can cure you."
"Please. I've suppressed my illness. My body has never been stronger, my mind never clearer."
Yeah, the time for talking had passed. Or rather, the time for constructive results following talking had passed. This was just wasting time.
Fortunately, I had a great way of resolving this problem.
Reaching out with the Force, I got a sense of the bottom part of the Jedi Master's lightsaber, and pictured an invisible ring in the space between her hands.
Then I crushed.
As expected, the cylinder buckled slightly - not as much as when I had pulled a similar trick of blaster power packs, of course, but still an appreciable amount. Unfortunately for the Jedi Master, power cells in lightsabers were most certainly not compressible, and the yellow blade sputtered out as a jet of flame erupted from the hilt.
Reaching out with the Force, I drew the fire to me, gathering it behind me to keep it from accidentally harming the Jedi Master or the delegates. I trusted everyone else to stay safe.
The Jedi Master's eyes went wide as she was suddenly disarmed.
Taking advantage of the moment of surprise, the Jedi Consular sent her flying back before charging after her, the Trandoshan hot on her heels.
"I love it when things take care of themselves," I said lightly, putting away my lightsaber. "So as I was saying, who here would like to see at least one Sith Lord dead?"
"... Lord Nestor, shouldn't you be focusing on Master Sidonie?" Green and Purple - the Rist delegate, if a comment from one of the other delegates earlier were to be believed - asked. He had taken the extra step of cowering behind his seat.
"The Jedi and her companion have the matter well in hand," I said lightly. "I have every confidence that they will resolve this matter between themselves."
"You're not afraid, are you?" the Little Jedi asked, having sidled up beside me.
"At this point, I would only get in the way," I said, glancing over in the direction of the remaining Jedi. The Jedi Master had collapsed while the Consular was meditating over her, the Force swirling in a veritable hurricane of might. I wanted no part of that. "And I could ask you the same question."
"The same, as it happens," she said, straight-faced. Naturally, the Little Jedi was not one to blindly carve her way through other Jedi.
"Anyway," I said, turning back to the assembled delegates. "Who would like to help turn a Harrower-class dreadnought into a debris field?"
The Ulgo delegate raised his hand with unseemly relish. The others moved far more sedately, with a speed that seemed far more appropriate for their stations. All except for the Thul delegate. He looked on with obvious doubt.
"Why are you asking for our help?" he asked at last. "Get the Empire to help."
"Simple," I said, dropping the imperial accent for my natural one. The one that, in this galaxy, would identify someone as being from the Republic. "I am tired of civil strife and neighbor killing neighbor and proxy wars when we can all stand together to fight our true enemy. This ceasefire will give us the opportunity to use the fleets of Alderaan for their intended purpose: killing Sith."
Judging by the excited smiles that grew on the faces of half of the delegates, that message seemed to resonate.
...
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