A frown of concentration creased Xandra Katarn's forehead as she lunged for the shockball. The charged orb deflected neatly off her mitt and landed in her opponent's goal. She allowed herself a small smile. Her Twi'lek opponent never stood a chance, not with the Force assisting Xandra's movements, giving her an almost catlike grace. The Twi'lek stormed off, lekku twitching angrily while Xandra set down her mitt and collected her prize money. Arena Shockball was usually played with two teams but Xandra preferred the independence of playing one on one. Due to her quick temper and somewhat caustic personality, her tolerance of others' mistakes was severely limited. Technically she was an amateur and therefore couldn't receive payment for playing, but there were loopholes in the system that allowed her to make a small living from wagers such as this. She hoped some day to go professional but knew that dream was about as likely as a Hutt going on a diet.
Some hours later, after defeating two more hopefuls, Xandra decided to make her way back to her apartment. It was a cool night and upper Coruscant's plentiful artificial lighting provided a feeling of warmth and security. She thrust her hands deep into her pockets, wishing she had been able to afford to live in the spacious accommodation that surrounded her. As she walked on the lighting became sparser, either broken or never installed, until she was walking in near blackness in the planet's lower, less inviting streets. At last she reached her small, one-room bedsit and opened the door. It grated loudly on worn hinges. Instantly something sharp hit her just below the knee. She flicked on the light, her pulse hammering in her ears. Was somebody in there? Her fear proved to be unfounded as the light revealed nothing more menacing than a low table set too close to the door. Xandra had always been skilled at languages and now she used some of the more colourful expressions she had picked up to verbally dissect the offending furniture. Her brother Morgan had given her endless lectures about such anger-driven behaviour, claiming it led to pain, suffering and the dark side, but could she really take advice from someone whose only ambition in life was to follow the family tradition of farming on a small, isolated moon? The only pain that concerned Xandra right now was the throbbing under her kneecap and she took it out on the table by landing it a solid kick. She sighed, realising the futility of the exercise, and flopped down heavily on her bed. She heard the cheap wood splinter slightly but it didn't break. Running a hand through her short, auburn hair, dyed black at the ends, she reached over to a pile of datacards left on the floor and picked up the top one. It was a description of her homeworld, Sulon. A world she had left to pursue her dreams. A world torn by civil war. A world she may never see again. Not bothering to change out of her clothes, Xandra flicked the light off and went to sleep, images of home flicking through her mind like Sulon's native flatwings.
She was woken halfway through the night by a loud pounding sound coming from the floor below. Wearily she rubbed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to order her thoughts. It took her several minutes to realise this was what the occupants of the room under hers considered to be music. She tried pounding on the floor a few times but all that achieved was a sore hand (exactly what she didn't need for playing Arena Shockball in the morning) so she decided her best option would be to wander off to the nearest tapcafe and drown her sorrows in a mug of Juri Juice. It wouldn't improve her game either but it might help her forget her recent run of bad luck and stop her pining for life back on the dirt farm on Sulon. She quickly brushed her hair and grabbed a black jacket that was lying on the floor near the datacards. The door creaked more loudly than usual as she closed it.
Walking alone through the seamier parts of Coruscant was never pleasant, and the enveloping darkness made the countless dangers lurking in shadowed corners even more threatening. Xandra quickened her step. Maybe coming out hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe she could even have joined in the noisy festivities downstairs. Anything would be better than this. Xandra's hand drifted down to the knife in her belt. She wished she had been given some sort of instruction in the ways of the Force, had been able to build a lightsaber and master the energy she felt flowing around her, but the chances of that happening either here or back on Sulon were slim to nil. A growing feeling of unrest built up around her and somewhere in the distance something grunted, squealed then fell silent. Ahead of her a gaudy neon light flickered then winked out. By now Xandra felt genuinely afraid. She gripped the handle of her knife tightly, her knuckles turning white and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Suddenly she realised she was in unfamiliar territory. Her preoccupation with her fear had caused her to take a wrong turn. How far back she was not sure but without recognising any of her surroundings it would be impossible to retrace her footsteps. Adrenaline coursing through her veins she shut her eyes in a last ditch attempt to attain clarity. She felt a cold hand grip her throat and tighten. She struggled to breathe as the icy clasp tightened like a vice. She couldn't hold on and her world was engulfed by blackness.
Xandra awoke in a small, damp room. It smelled stale and musty, as if something was festering quietly in a corner. The bare plaster walls were unpleasantly stained with something she didn't care to contemplate. Her hands were secured behind her back with energy binders and when she attempted to stand she found her feet similarly confined, making escape impossible. She turned sharply as she heard a sound approaching. It was a strange, metallic sound accompanied by a soft whine of servos. A droid? That would certainly explain the cold hand. The sound ceased momentarily and the door swung open with a rough creak, not unlike the one her own door made. Suddenly filled with apprehension, she debated whether it might be better to feign unconsciousness than to face her captor but her train of thought was abruptly cut short when a figure emerged through the doorway. Xandra had seen some horrific things in her life, but none that compared to the monstrosity before her. She assumed it had once been a man but due to some terrible accident its body had been horrendously mutilated and replaced in several places with crude mechanical devices. She couldn't bring herself to look at it directly in the eyes - if there were eyes in what was left of its skull - so she started at the feet and worked her way up. The feet and legs were covered in a tarnished metal that appeared to be durasteel and could have been either mechanical or encased in some sort of armour. As her eyes moved up the hideous figure she found that mounted on its chest was some sort of life-support apparatus. Blood could be seen flowing through tubes and the device emitted a steady humming sound. Her eyes followed the tubes and she saw that they also ran part way down the being's arms, which were encased in a similar fashion to the legs, before vanishing into the metal. She finally gathered together all her courage and made eye contact with the creature. Its head appeared to be a 50-50 mix of flesh and durasteel. The skin that was visible in the dim light was an unhealthy grey colour, as though it was dead or dying, and peeled slightly around the metallic implants. Blue veins were visible through this thin covering, as well as several deep scars slashing across the forehead. One eye had been replaced with an imaging scanner that whirred as it focused in on Xandra while the other was unpleasantly bloodshot and strangely clouded. The mouth opened with a grating sound of metal on bone that made her wince. The voice was harsh and loud, as though being broadcast through an amplifier. "Morgan Katarn," it grated. "Where?" Xandra gasped. How did this cyborg know about her brother and what did it want with him? "Jedi Katarn. Where?" it demanded again, taking a step towards her and swivelling its optical implant. Jedi Katarn? Morgan had rejected the Force, believing himself incapable of using it responsibly after an incident when he had used it to push a school bully off balance, sending him plunging over a cliff to his death. Then it struck her. This creature before her must be that boy, seeking revenge for his disfigurement. He took another step forward as Xandra reached for her knife. He reached out a durasteel-clawed hand and she found the blade was missing. She panicked, almost paralysed by fear and reached out to block the attack. Suddenly, electricity surged through her fingers. Realising this was her only means of self-defence she embraced the new power and released herself to it. The cyborg froze for a moment, stunned, as servos overheated and metal melted to slag. He collapsed on the floor, twitching slightly as the life support mechanism failed and his eye closed.
Xandra leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. She hadn't thought she was capable of such a feat but the power she had just commanded felt indescribably good. She tried to summon it again to release herself from the energy binders and at her will small sparks shot from her hand and destroyed the circuitry holding her captive. Getting up she saw something lying on the floor near the body of her captor, something that shone slightly in the dim illumination and gave her hope in the midst of the carnage. It was her knife. She picked it up and twirled it in her hand, watching the light play across the surface of the metal. She'd never realised how beautiful a weapon could be before, how the serrated edge could shine with such brilliance and yet be so deadly. Smiling to herself she pushed the blade back into her belt, stepped over the body and left. The door closed heavily and the room was sealed in heavy darkness.
DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction written in appreciation of Star Wars; to promote the Star Wars franchise and to keep it alive. All characters and settings original to the Star Wars movies and/or novelizations are copyright to Lucasfilm, Ltd. The rest is copyright to the story's author. No profit was gained from this story.