Run. Fight. Rebel. Run. Fight. Rebel. Run. Fight. Rebel.

The words sang in Ahsoka's soul, resonating, awakening and bolstering the subtle power in her midichlorians cell by cell. She'd forced them to remain dormant for ages, all but the basest of her Jedi senses restricted to the distant corners of her psyche. Now energy flooded through her in a rush till she was almost drunk on it; she wanted nothing more than to reach out, to destroy, to free and be freed in turn...

On silent feet, she stalked away from the private box where Lux and his monster of a father still sat, staring vacantly out at the utter pandemonium in the auction house through a screen of green plasma fire. Soon, the roar of the explosion would fade, and they would realize their guards had fallen dead behind them. She'd have to be long gone before they realized anything was amiss... or anyone else did.

Distantly, she wondered how this would all translate back to Lux. He'd had a rare chance to catch her in a lie, to compromise her entire mission, but he hadn't taken it. And now even the most unskilled of criminals had the perfect opportunity to do him and Zakhan harm. With their guards conveniently dead or close to it, they were the easiest targets one could ask for.

It felt far too much like a betrayal for her liking.

Ahsoka faltered, stopped, and then started moving again, gritting her teeth. She'd already betrayed him once the second she saw a chance to help Barriss. If she'd had any doubt, that was her guide for where her loyalties truly lay. There was no point in second-guessing or overthinking about Lux or Anakin or anything else resembling a plan. Not when freedom and justice were so close at hand.

If Lux was smart, he would run and hide until the storm was through. If not...

She felt a twinge of dread that she quickly swept aside. She was not going to think about that. It wasn't her job to protect him. Her duty lay with the innocents who'd been forced into slavery to appease the greed of cruel overlords.

She hadn't been able to save her Master that day on Felucia, but she could still help these people. She finally recognized her long wait in chains for what it was: helpless indecision. Now energy was surging through her, intoxicating and utterly liberating, and she knew in her bones that would change today.

The door Ahsoka had seen before was unlocked and completely accessible now that she'd removed the guards obstructing it. Beyond was a long, grey hallway. She drew a fraction of her power inward, willing her lekku to better interpret the auditory information that reached her montrals. Conversation and clamorings from the boxes to her right bounced off the stone and back to her, their varying pitch and strength painting a vivid picture of what lay around the bend.

The coast was clear, and a way to the landing platforms on the roof of the auction house was nearby. Ahsoka smiled to herself and set off down the hallway.

Some brigand – a mercenary guarding one of the gangsters attending the auction, she'd guess – stumbled out of a nearby box after her, in a haze of drunken madness and lust rather than conscious realization that she was the cause of all this. She crushed him against the wall as casually as she would have a fly.

A Gotal followed, and died writhing in an invisible chokehold. His bones were tough, and as recompense for the challenge to kill him, she claimed his forest-green cloak and the wicked vibroblade hanging from a sheath at his belt.

"Run. Fight. Rebel," she chanted, hardly above a murmur.

Run. Fight. Rebel, she felt the slaves echo, a chorus of hundreds rising up to match and surpass her.

Their hearts and minds and souls were one with hers. She'd given them hope and returned their long-lost willpower. In return, their rage and insatiable desire for change filled her, and drove her to action.

For a moment, vision overshadowed natural sight, and Ahsoka heard the thundering march of Imperial boots hitting cobblestone, saw flecks of mud and filth hitting white armor too unnaturally pristine to match the scene before them.

Reinforcements. That was something she could not allow. Nothing could be permitted to stand in her way.

"Assemble," she whispered into the minds of her makeshift battalion, and the slaves wove around the tents and pens that had once held them, flocking to the far end of the enormous plaza outside the auction house where it met the road.

Ahsoka pulled the hood of her new cloak up and fastened the front. She'd reached the stairwell up to he landing pads – her way out – and it would do well to conceal. Then, she broke into a run, taking the steps three at a time until she stood in the open air. The edge of the plaza was only a Force-enhanced leap away.

She could feel Lux's fear rising. It jumped out to her amidst the hundreds of other affluent guests as though to remind her of her purpose, her mission. (How delicious it was that the muted aura of fear and suffering that permeated Kyzeron every Auction Week had been turned on its head, rising to fever pitch now that the masters cowered before the slaves that broke and pillaged and killed for their freedom.) She ignored it.

"Go," she commanded, pointing the tip of her blade toward the main entrance, where storm troopers were already streaming in and searching for a staging area for their heavy guns. "Destroy the weapons of those who would do you harm, who would see you back under a master's whip, then destroy them!"

The slaves charged, washing toward the waiting Imperial troops like a tidal wave. Ahsoka leapt down before them, drawing the Force around her to distort her features and mask her aura. It was an ancient technique, one of the very last things Anakin had ever taught her, and allegedly it was an enormous drain on one's energy.

It was funny how easily it came to her. She hardly had to lift a finger.

Her stolen vibroblade bit into plastic, tearing through the durable casing to the soft flesh beneath, and again and again as she spun this way and that to face each opponent that dared to come her way. They were little more than armored beetles to her – and they were just as vulnerable as anyone else to a well-placed attack beneath their protective white exoskeletons.

"They've gone mad! The whole blasted lot of them!" yelled a Zygerrian not far away. Feelings of hate sparked in the Force when the slaves nearby heard her speak. Ahsoka could sense she'd inflicted pain on many of them.

Another slaver's voice rose above the rabble to meet hers. "Gods above, is that a Jedi? I thought they were extin–"

Ahsoka's vibroblade finished his sentence prematurely: she swung around, gaining momentum from a killing blow to an Elite storm trooper to take his head clean off. (Pathetic. How had the Elites ever gotten the better of Anakin Skywalker? Anakin must've been distracted.) As she watched the decapitated body crumple and collapse to the ground, spurting blood, she felt a sudden pang of longing for her lightsabers ­– taking down an enemy had been much simpler and cleaner with them.

She would have to find a pair of crystals worthy of her power. She was only making a mess like this, and she took little pleasure in the sloppiness of the kill.

Ahsoka snapped back to full alertness as a familiar roar filled the air. A moment later, a gunship emblazoned with the Noreino crest streaked through the sky toward the ugly grey auction house. Its nose was pointed at the western side of the building, and the costly private boxes there.

Zakhan and Lux's rescue had arrived quicker than expected.

Before she could think up a new course of action, three other Elites hurried forward to meet her, weapons drawn. They'd worked out her thoughts dwelled on the approaching gunship, and sought to stop her from going after it. What little of their washed-out souls was still able to produce an aura felt dark and foreboding.

Ahsoka studied the leader with interest as the trio moved into formation, watching how his body shifted into a ready position with the sort of easy grace she'd only ever seen in very experienced fighters. The average Elite was unrefined and clumsy, relying on brute strength in the Force to win a fight – but not this one.

"At last," she murmured, grinning broadly, "a challenge."

She didn't bother with a more thorough analysis, or reach into the Force for insight on their abilities, or even to wait and let them attack first. She leapt forward with a fearsome cry, and one of the Elites fell dead where she stood.

Ahsoka's blood was boiling at the prospect of another fight against these Imperial oppressors, and she wasn't about to let her newfound power go to waste. There were so many thrilling ways she could use it to achieve her ends.

The two remaining Elites spun to meet her from where they'd retreated to regroup after the loss of their comrade. Their electrostaffs crackled with enough voltage to fell a rancor. She darted between them and out of reach easily, pushing the less skilled Elite away with the Force and turning to confront her true opponent.

Her true opponent...

The Elites were wasting her time. She could already be off making sure the Lord Imperator never hurt another person again. These measly Imperial dogs' sense of duty to protect that terrible excuse for a Human being only made her contempt for him grow.

Anger sharpening her already finely attuned senses, she swung forward, meeting each blow that came her way and returning it twice over. This particular Elite had some skill for defensive fighting, but not nearly enough to do him real good. It was clear he'd never fought anyone of Ahsoka's caliber before.

Ahsoka stepped around a slash that would've been a killing blow to a lesser fighter. She retaliated with one of her own, and this one found its mark. The Elite stumbled back with a growl of pain, cradling a bleeding, burnt hand. Her blade had caught the power pack on his weapon in the same swipe.

His subordinate chose this moment to jump in to provide a distraction – or to claim the glory of killing a Jedi for herself, perhaps – calling on the Force and sending a wave of energy surging toward Ahsoka.

The blow was surprisingly strong for such a weak connection, strong enough that Ahsoka knew she couldn't hope to hold fast against it on her own. She put her hands together and folded the Force around herself in a protective barrier of her own, sharpened at her fingertips to intercept the attack.

She leapt forward again as soon as the danger was past. Her vibroblade slid as easily through the woman's chest plating as her power had cut through the blast. The will of disjointed midichlorians was no match for Ahsoka's strength.

She withdrew the blade a second later and threw it at the remaining Elite. The man raised a metal-plated arm and knocked it away, and escaped with only a glancing blow and another bleeding cut. He charged her before she had the time to summon her weapon back into her hand.

His punches had force and direction, and Ahsoka was hard-pressed to match them with blocks and answering jabs. Still, this was exhilarating – the subordinate had been strong with the Force, and the leader was strong of body. This was more exercise than Ahsoka had gotten in ages, and she was glad for it... but not that glad.

Time is still wasting, she thought. Time to finish this. She pushed the man away to a safe distance and hoisted him up in an unbreakable Force choke.

"Or perhaps not so much of a challenge," Ahsoka murmured as he fell dead at her feet, and called her sword back to her side. Then, she took off running back toward the auction house, deflecting any blaster bolts that happened to come her way with a wave of her hand.

The slaves she'd freed could handle the rest of the assault on their own while she re-entered the layer of the beast to bring back its head.

Ahsoka heard a crash as she jumped back up to her perch. She crouched low when she landed, watching the stained glass ceiling above the auction house buckle and fall down into the arena in pieces. At the other end of the building's westward wall, Noreino guards and storm troopers were rappelling through the opening to reach the Noreino's private box.

A snarl found its way to her lips. Not on my watch... I'll make the bastard pay. I'll make them both pay for what they've allowed to happen under their rule. The son doesn't deserve mercy because he claims to have a conscience.

Another wave of gangsters and slavers desperate to escape to their ships stampeded up the stairs. She wasted precious seconds there, half-hidden behind the decorative lip of the roof, her face and eyes burning in the afternoon heat. She could've cut them down if she'd wanted to, but really, what was the point? It would take less time to get downstairs if she didn't have to wade through bodies to do it.

Noiselessly she moved down the hallway toward the private box. She could just barely hear Lux's voice in the distance, begging his father to call of the Imperial troops and stop all this bloodshed. The desperation in his voice made her insides prickle with a feeling she couldn't name, but she did not break her stride.

When she was about to reach the door that led to the box, Ahsoka stopped, taking a moment to prepare for the coming fight; she was so warm suddenly, and it felt like she had coals for eyes. Then, she raised her blade, stepped forward, and...

The bloodstained grey surface of the weapon caught a sliver of her face, the reflection shimmering and trembling with the rapid motion of the blade but visible nonetheless. And as she turned it to see more, the eyes staring back at her were far more yellow and red than blue. The colors of the dark side.

The reality of what she'd done hit her in a flash. The multitudes she'd been linked to, that she'd spurned into an uprising, vanished from her conscious awareness in an instant. It was a bond formed of anger and force rather than the calm connection of thousands of Jedi in the Force around her, but without it, Ahsoka suddenly felt crushingly alone.

"Anakin," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes, "what have I done?"

The ray shield generator Lux had hauled from its cubby in the wall of their box spluttered and gave an encouraging whirr as he connected the last few wires he could think of. The color of the shield beyond dimmed from an overheated orange-red back to a faint yellow, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It wasn't the ideal transparent color, but it also wasn't an explosion waiting to happen.

Zakhan's retinue of sycophants had fled – not that Lux thought any of them had a mind for tech, anyway – and their guards were dead. That had left Lux and his limited understanding of wires and hardware as their only means for keeping their defenses online. His father was too busy barking orders into his comm to help.

Gingerly Lux set the jumble of wires he'd connected to bypass the worse of the generator's two ailing power packs down inside the metal casing and closed the panel. Instantly, the shield phased back to red, bathing the box in a deep glow that made the pair of ornate chairs at its center look like they were drenched in blood.

There goes the second power pack, Lux thought with a grimace and scrambled to his feet. Maybe that will be excuse enough to let me go find Alynna. If anything's happened to her when I dragged her into this mess...

Zakhan whirled, jabbing an accusing finger in Lux's direction, and a fresh panic rose within him strong enough to eclipse his fear for Alynna. "I thought you had this fixed!"

"I did everything I could, Father," Lux said. "I was banking on the second power pack holding until help arrived, but it's in worse shape than I thought."

Zakhan's gaze found a spot in the shield that was weakening faster than the others. Lux swallowed hard when his expression turned livid. "We need to get out of here," he continued. "We only have a minute or two before it goes down!"

"I will not leave a strong defensible position!"

Was he insane? The shield was collapsing around them, about to open them up for blaster fire and aerial bombardment, and he wanted to stay? "Father, please! I need to find Alynna!"

"Your bed warmer? That's the cause of your flightiness?" Zakhan laughed incredulously, but Lux could hear the poison in it. There was danger here, and Lux had to step carefully to avoid it. "Ridiculous. Reinforcements will be here shortly to blast the miserable lot of insurgents to oblivion, and we'll be on our way. If you're so worried about something as inconsequential as a slave girl, I'll get you another one."

"She's not inconsequential," Lux gritted, too low for Zakhan to hear.

"What did you say, boy?" All right, almost too low.

"People are dying out there!"

"Slaves who struck first. This was obviously a coordinated attack, perhaps accomplished by hacking the slaves' trackers and implanting commands," Zakhan mused, unperturbed. How could his father be so callous? Alynna was in danger!

Then maybe, Master, you need to learn how to be brave.

Lux squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. Alynna had no idea how much that hurt. He'd known how to be brave, once. He'd been on top of the world – so rash and impulsive and wonderfully short-tempered nothing could stand in his way. But the Empire and his life as Heir-Designate had stolen that years ago.

It was painfully obvious now that Alynna was willing to lie, berate and cheat her way to victory. He should've been angry she'd thrown him under the speeder, but how could he be? That was how to make change happen. He would accomplish nothing sitting here and hoping his father deigned to be merciful.

"No," Lux growled, turning to face Zakhan again.

"What?" Zakhan growled back, a warning in his voice and a tension in his shoulders like he was ready to strike at any moment.

"Not slaves, people. It doesn't matter who started it and who ends it. This can be resolved without blasting anyone to oblivion, as you're so keen on doing."

Zakhan scoffed.

"Don't you see? This is an uprising against poor conditions – one I think is long overdue, with how we've been treating those we see as less than us. It doesn't matter if the fight was hastened by an outside source or not, Father. This is a problem, and we have to find their leader and hear their terms to fix it."

His father said nothing for a long moment. Lux did not break his father's gaze, though he knew a slap – or worse – was probably imminent. There was a chance here for Lux to change his father's mind. He would not back down now.

Then, Zakhan raised his arm. Lux tensed, but the purpose of the gesture was only to raise his wrist comm to his mouth; he wasn't about to land a blow.

"Send a second gunship for me. The first will take the Heir-Designate to the villa by the Inland Sea. I will issue a public statement within the hour."

Lux's eyes widened. "No, let me stay by your side," he gasped. "Father, this is what I was trained to do. Let me show you, let me resolve this without more senseless bloodshed!"

A silence stretched between them as Lux waited for a reply. When none came, he continued on with an excuse he hoped would be speaking his father's language. "How will the people perceive this, then?" A little desperation crept into his voice. "That House Noreino does not stand united against potential threats?"

"Enough," Zakhan thundered. "You have made your points, and I have heard them. But you are my Heir-Designate, and as such you must be kept safe. If your blasted girl Alynna returns, you have my word I will alter her tracker to match your biorhythms so you can bring her along. But you will not go looking for her." His comm began to flash, a spot of brighter red in the hellish glow of the failing shield, and he smiled grimly. "It's too late for that now, anyway."

Lux opened his mouth to demand to know why. The cacophony of breaking glass cut him off, made him jump away from the front of the box instinctively. As the shield failed and evaporated, a squadron of storm troopers led by Noreino guards rappelled down from above.

"Sir," the leader called as she landed, offering Zakhan a sharp salute. Her forces fanned out as they landed, forming a protective ring around father and son. "The slaves have broken off the attack, and many of them are fleeing. They won't put up any kind of a fight that would hinder you. Is the young lord ready to depart?"

"Yes," Zakhan said.

"No, he's not," Lux yelped. "I won't go without Alynna! Father, you have a datapad that can track where she is. Let me see it! We can go after her!"

"Ah, well..." Zakhan shrugged, an oddly casual gesture at the best of times and one that made Lux's stomach turn now. "I must have left it at home."

Lux spun on one heel and tried to get through the circle of storm troopers. They pushed him firmly back with the hands not holding their blasters. Lux winced, glancing down at the guns. He had no idea if they were set to stun or not.

"Father, please, just–"

"Master?"

Lux's head shot up, and he nearly wept in relief when he caught sight of the slim Togruta girl standing at the door, tears on her cheeks and blood spattered on her skirt. "Alynna! Thank the gods!"

He shoved at the guards more forcefully, and this time, they let him through. He ran toward her, drawing her into a tight hug. Real, solid, warm, breathing.

Alynna was safe. She was safe...

Alynna tensed beneath him for a heartbeat before relaxing and nestling close. "I–I'm sorry if I worried you. The explosion frightened me, so I ran away."

"You're safe now," he said automatically. He shot a glance back at his father, at the disdainful way he looked at Alynna, and felt a rush of shame at his selfishness. If this had been a coordinated attack using the slave trackers, perhaps Alynna would've had a chance at escape when the battle was won. Anyone could freeze up in fear, but someone who was unfazed by fights with lowlifes and even commando droids wasn't the type to run from a burning ray shield.

Alynna could fight, even if she denied it. She was calculating and smart, even if she tried to hide it. She would've been better off not coming back, fleeing with her brothers and sisters. Instead she was right back in the thick of things, the same as him – the eye of a storm that was only growing smaller and smaller as time went on.

Lux called himself back to the present. Blood on Alynna's skirt. Tears in her eyes. He was no medic, but if she was hurt, he could use some of the stronger liquor from the cabinet as a disinfectant, and the hem on his shirt was clean enough to serve as a makeshift bandage.

"Are you injured?" he asked, gently maneuvering her back to arm's length.

She shook her head.

"Your skirt–"

"I don't want to talk about it, Master," she whispered, her blue eyes meeting his with strength and fervor that disarmed him. Then, loudly enough that everyone present could hear, she said, "I'm in one piece."

"Aluxsidrian," Zakhan called. His tone brooked no argument or hesitation.

Lux nodded to him and took Alynna's hand, leading her to the gunship the pilot had since flown down through the ruined ceiling to the outer side of the box. "We're going to the villa until the dust settles here in Kyzeron," he told her, keeping his voice light even when the words soured in his mouth. This wasn't over, and it wasn't a retreat. He wouldn't be sent away like a child without some retribution.

"I think some time away will be good for you," she replied softly. "And good for me, too."

Lux helped her up into the gunship – a repurposed old Republic model, if he wasn't mistaken. Half the troopers filed in after them as an honor guard while the rest stayed with Zakhan to await the second gunship. Alynna touched a reverent hand to the blast doors as they slid shut and the emergency lights came on (red like the blood on her skirt she insisted wasn't hers, red like the ray shield Lux had failed to fix) before joining him on a pile of munitions crates at the far end of the craft.

She said nothing else to him for the three hours it took to reach the villa, and Lux didn't press her. He didn't need all the answers from her just yet. She'd betrayed him and used him, true, but she'd also come back to him when she might have had a chance to get away for good. For now, that was enough.

After a narrow brush with the dark side, Ahsoka seems to have chosen to return to Lux and her mission to find Anakin. But did a wise Jedi Master not once say that once you start down the dark path, it will dominate your destiny forever? Is there still a chance she'll sacrifice Lux for the sake of finding Anakin, or even her own personal freedom, as she nearly did here? He's already suspicious of her as is, as much as he wants to trust her. Will his faith in her persist? And more importantly, will he continue to follow his father after yet another betrayal? Only time will tell...

Lux in chapter nine: oh boy I hope Alynna doesn't betray me when I've done my best to be good to her

Ahsoka, literally three chapters later: hello burn in the fires of my wrath

... which is just one of the reasons why this chapter was as wild to rewrite as it was going through it the first time. That, and Ahsoka levels up in badassery by using Battle Meditation to link herself to every enslaved person in the auction house. Fun times!

We're also up to date with the content I'd originally posted, with a few additions and a few omissions – and finished this arc of the story. After a brief interlude to give some additional context on the extra twists and turns this universe takes away from canon, the next one will begin! And for those of you here for the Luxsoka, which I assume is the majority, you'll probably like those chapters quite a lot. Already Lux is starting to realize he doesn't want to lose Ahsoka, and with luck, she might realize the same...

I'll talk to you guys in the next chapter!