Spectre-5


Hoth was a cold planet. It was the entire gig that the planet had going for it. That was it, as far as anyone knew.

Sabine Wren hated Hoth. It wasn't important, in the long run, but if you controlled the space around it, and the planet itself, you could use it to launch attacks and ambushes. Which was something both the Republic and Separatists wanted and Clan Wren didn't care about, although why they were on the planet, in a crappy outpost, Sabine didn't know. She didn't tend to get that information, despite being the eldest child of Ursa Wren, and the wielder of the Darksabre won through combat.

What Sabine did know was that they'd had a pair of people in their camp who weren't supposed to be there, and said people had stolen one of the repurposed speeders and were now escaping. And it was her job to go after them.

Sabine jumped into the air, activating her jetpack. The propulsion boosted her into the air, and she took off after the pair, drawing both pistols as she flew forwards, aiming at the speeder.

She fired several rounds from the get-go, testing the pair, seeing how good they were at dodging attacks. She wasn't expecting the kid to jump out of his seat and land on the back of the speeder, deflecting the first six shots with smooth, fluid precision, the green beam of light that connected with each shot something she hadn't seen in months.

He was a Jedi.

Sabine swerved out of the way of the reflected shots, just like her family members did, thankful for the training she'd gone through, and dove through the air, speeding up. She holstered both pistols, and landed on the back of the speeder beside the kid, drawing the Darksabre, and slashing at him. The two lightsabers connected, electricity sparking where they touched, and she leaned in, leaning her weight down on the kid, who glared back at her, confident.

They started to fight, blades clashing, and Sabine realized something that she really should have figured out before attacking the Jedi Padawan—for he had to be a Padawan, there was no way he was old enough to be a Jedi Knight. The kid was trained to fight with a lightsaber, against any weapons, but mainly against another lightsaber. She wasn't trained for that, she was trained to be a warrior.

He had the advantage, she had to admit. This fourteen-year-old kid—no way was he older than her—had the advantage on her, Sabine Wren, of Clan Wren. But there was no way she was about to lose to this kid. Not in front of her younger brother and mother.

She started to fight dirty, sliding the Darksabre's blade down towards his hands every time they connected. His fighting style was something she hadn't seen before, acrobatic and offensive, which... they were on the back of a speeder. Sabine was impressed.

"Where'd you get that?" the kid snapped, their blades locking again, both of them pushing against each other with all their strength. "It's not yours!"

"It's a relic of my people!" she spat, breaking the hold and kicking at him. He ducked, rolling under the strike, and she twisted, feet moving, so that they'd switched places. The driver of the speeder seemed to be more focused on driving then the deadly battle behind him. "It's mine to wield!"

The speeder swerved, and both she and the kid stumbled, losing their balance. She grabbed onto the kid's non-lightsaber arm for balance, and he cried out, falling backwards. Pulling her with him.

They both hit the snow, and she heard sizzling as their lightsabers melted through the substance. Before the speeder could even turn around for them, she'd drawn a pistol, rising to one knee and aiming. She started to fire, holding down the trigger, trying to clip something. She got nothing, and the speeder kept going, vanishing into the snow, the sound of blasters and jetpacks muffled by the thick flakes.

Sabine turned and barely managed to block the kid's strike. He was furious, she could tell, leaning his weight down on her, eyes narrowed. "What did you do!"

She grunted, pushing him off, and kicked into the air, activating her pack for a few moments, giving herself space. Twisting in the air, Darksabre still in her right hand, pistol in her left, she aimed at the kid, blasting. He twisted, flipping backwards over one hand, green blade humming through the air as he avoided most of the shots, deflecting the ones he couldn't dodge. She landed on the snow, feet sinking in, the snow reaching her waist, the chill digging past her armour and into her skin and muscles and bones.

They faced off. Two teenagers, forced into war. Two teenagers, with powerful weapons. Two teenagers, who didn't even know each other's names.

"This is stupid," Sabine muttered, to herself, even as she holstered her pistol, holding the Darksabre in both hands, feet planted and ready for the kid to attack. He didn't, just waiting for her. So Sabine jumped into the air, boosting herself with her pack, jumping towards the kid. She landed beside him, and switched the Darksabre off, ducking under the green-tinted slash that melted flakes of white.

"Kid! Stop attacking!" she ordered, and he reached out a hand, towards the hand that held the ancient lightsaber. The hilt of the Darksabre shuttered and then flew from her grip, slamming into his palm. It switched on, and he spun the two blades around, taking up a new stance. Sabine swore silently, and dove out of the way, diving into the snow. She rolled up to her feet, sending the white powder flying. He had a strange expression on his face as he jumped, flipping through the air and bringing both sabres down at her face. Sabine threw herself backward and stumbled through the snow, trying to get away from the black and green that could cut her head off in a moment.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" she shouted, and he slashed at her head again. He had a reverse grip on his lightsaber, she noted absently, which seemed slightly odd. But in any case, she needed to get the fight to stop. "I was just putting on a show!"

"Some show." he scoffed, blades humming through the air. The Blacksabre's tip nearly clipped the front of her helmet, and Sabine sneered, anger pounding in her chest.

"That's enough." She snarled, and drew both pistols, aiming at him. She started to fire, backing up. Like she'd expected, he didn't try to aim the bolts back at her with the intent to kill, but they peppered the snow around her feet, the melting holes steaming. "Kid, I don't want to hurt you!"

"You shot at us!"

"I want to end this fight!" Sabine screamed, leaning to the side as a bolt was aimed at her shoulder. She held up one pistol, and aimed again, throwing two bolts back at him. "I don't want to fight you!"

Both sabres cut through the air, blazing, and Sabine gritted her teeth. She holstered both of her guns and knelt. The kid froze, clearly confused as to why a Mandalorian warrior was kneeling to him. Sabine bowed her head, biting her lip hard and then letting out a careful breath.

She schooled her expression, and lifted her hands, removing her helmet. She wasn't about to fight this kid anymore. Setting her helmet on the snow beside her, she looked up at the kid, who was panting, just like she was, his eyes wide like she was sure hers were. It was the first time she'd looked at him, and the first time he'd seen her face.

He had dark hair that came out from the fringe of his hood. It almost looked blue, although she was fairly certain that was a trick of the light. His breath came out in puffs before his face, and he wore the style of parka that she'd seen most non-combatants wear on planets like Hoth. She couldn't see much of him, hidden by the parka and cold-weather clothing he wore, but he seemed human enough. He wasn't twi'lek or togruta, that was for sure. Maybe a subset of humans, if not human.

"You're a kid."

She bristled at that. "I'm fifteen! How old are you, huh‽"

He didn't answer. Sabine let out a breath, and it fogged up in the air before her face. Stars, she hated Hoth. It was no good for anything but snow, and she wasn't the biggest fan of snow in the first place. Her lashes were already white, she knew, even though she could only barely see them, and every time they closed, she had to force them apart afterwards.

"Kid, we're going to freeze if we stay out here. We gotta find shelter."

It was his turn to bristle. "Why would you want to help me? You guys were trying to kill us two seconds ago!"

"I'm not trying to kill you," she promised, standing up, and picking up her helmet. She shook the snow that had gathered inside it out and set it back down on her head. It was freezing, and she half-regretted taking it off. Although, if she hadn't, they might still be fighting, and she wasn't sure who'd win. Mandalorian teenager with an affinity for art and ancient glowy weapons, or random boy who had made his glowy weapon—she was sure the Jedi made their weapons. Mandalore hadn't had an official Force-sensitive warrior in generations, much less one who'd trained at the Jedi Temple. She wasn't even sure any of them could be Force-sensitive.

"You shot at us!"

"Kid—"

"My name is Ezra Bridger." He interrupted, and his stance, once offensive yet still, relaxed. Neither sabre switched off though, and every time a snowflake got close to the blades' heat, it melted, plummeting to the ground or going up in steam. "Padawan Ezra Bridger."

"Sabine Wren of Clan Wren." Sabine offered in return, wrapping her arms around herself, starting to shiver. "Can we put fighting on hold? If I have to die, it should be something cool, and not freezing in a storm on kriffing Hoth."

Ezra smiled. "Agreed. But I'm keeping this."

He held up the Darksabre, and Sabine narrowed her eyes. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Hey, you get two blasters and a jetpack, I get the lightsabers."

"Uh-huh."