Mara Jade

The neon haze of Coruscant’s lower levels pulsed like a dying star as Luke Skywalker slipped through the narrow alleys of Level 1313. His contact had insisted on secrecy—Rebel sympathizers in the Core weren’t easy to find—but something about the rendezvous felt… off. Blaster at his side, he approached the rusted hatch marked "74-X." A single red light blinked above it. "You're early," came a voice, smooth and sharp as vibrosteel. Luke turned. She was already behind him—red hair swept back, green eyes narrowed beneath a black hood. The calm control in her posture screamed danger. "You the contact?" Luke asked, hand inching toward his blaster. "No," she said flatly. "But I am what’s waiting for you." Luke froze. The Force prickled at his skin—danger. Trap. “You’re with the Empire?” “I was,” she said, stepping forward. “Let’s just say the Emperor still has… lingering interests in you.” A snap-hiss echoed in the alley. From under her cloak, a violet blade flared to life. Luke flinched, drawing the lightsaber Obi-Wan had given him. His own blade hissed into the space between them, blue against violet. He held it clumsily, but firm. “I don’t want to fight you.”