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“Stay close, Senator.” Kima checked the corridor best she could, the sizzling silver of her lightsaber blades the only illumination in the damaged vessel. “Escape pod should be that way, just past…” she stretched out with the Force; the reply made her frown with disgust. “...about a dozen battle droids. Don’t suppose you’re secretly a crack shot with a blaster? Not, uh, that I can’t handle the lot on my own,” she added, self-consciously adjusting her robe. For some reason, making a good impression on her charge seemed very important.
Behind her, Senator Allura Vysoren’s fine-boned face crinkled into a matching mask of disgust - whether in sympathy with her new bodyguard or at the idea of handling a weapon was unclear. “I can manage well enough, thank you.”
“What’re you going to do, negotiate them to death?” Kima muttered.
“I thought the Jedi were supposed to act as negotiators and arbiters as well as their more martial duties.” A faint twinkle in the senator’s eye accompanied the words.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good in its place.” Kima left the rest of the sentiment unspoken as a thought occurred to her. “I don’t suppose you have a better plan than me just rushing in and slashing them to pieces?”
“I might.” The senator hummed, surprising Kima. “Pray, do you have any cybernetic implants?”
“N-no?” One eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Mm. Thank you for indulging my eccentricities. Would you be able to get them gathered around you by say, a count of five?” Vysoren, fingers graceful and swift (- nope, that’s a bad alley to go down, Kima thought -) fiddled with a device Kima didn’t recognize - definitely not Republic standard, maybe even bespoke - then, with a deft movement, clipped it to Kima’s back. “One.”
“Aw, shit,” Kima groaned as she took off in a sprint, the Force lengthening her strides and draining her fatigue like pus from a wound. She kept a mental count in her head as she reached out, tendrils of Force energy wrapping around her foes and drawing them close, dangerously close.
Well. Dangerous for them, at least, as her weapon traced parallel argent arcs, deflecting hurried blaster bolts and scything through her nearest enemy.
Five.
A wave of cold blue light erupted from the device on Kima’s back, sending the droids into paroxysms of what she would have called pain on a foe that could feel it. “EMP. Nice,” she grunted as she set about deactivating the droids more permanently. “Would have been nicer if you had pulled that trick out a little sooner.”
“I agree. Unfortunately,” Vysoren retrieved her toy and tucked it back into a little satchel, “my inventions take eight hours to recharge.”
“Wha- Seriously?” Kima spluttered. “What a crock of shit.”
“Mm. You’re welcome. And, if we’re close enough to use vulgarity, you may as well call me Allura.”
“Forcedamnit,” Kima muttered. “Well, come on then, Allura. Escape pod is just ahead.” Force only knew how she would survive the tiny space with the infuriating (yet attractive) senator.