I can't say I genuinely like the act of fighting, but I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I love winning. The adrenaline rush of successfully destroying a seemingly superior Force user, who was certain of their victory, gives me a magnificent, unparalleled feeling of vindication and power.
I've been deployed multiple times now, primarily for my highly valued healing skills, but every single deployment has required me to defend myself with lethal force. It turns out that whether the enemy is common soldiers or dark side Force users, their first and most fervent priority is to eliminate the medic or the healer. This makes the Brotherhood of Darkness and its allies incredibly predictable, and therefore, surprisingly simple to slay.
I am, against all expectation, really good at it. I've even accumulated a better kill confirmation rate than some of the proper, battle-hardened Jedi Knights. This success is entirely thanks to my meticulous policy of leaving zero witnesses to my fights. My unconventional tricks and customized gear are kept secret by the dead, which means the Brotherhood cannot learn from them, cannot anticipate them, and cannot teach their recruits how to counter the "Med Corps Assassin."
My equipment has been completely upgraded. I now carry a personalized energy shield, ripped from a salvaged battle droid. It doesn't last long just a fraction of a second but it only needs to block the first predictable swipe of a lightsaber. That brief, unexpected failure is enough for the dark side user to lose their critical focus, giving me the opening I need to deploy my own lightsaber. I keep the shield hidden and only activate it at the point of close combat. When the blade extends, that is the first and only time the dark side user sees it, as it simultaneously pierces their arm or chest. They never see it coming because I initially attack using overwhelming blasters and thermal bombs, and only when they close the distance to use their lightsaber do they realize I too carry a plasma blade.
Sometimes, if I'm lucky enough and the circumstances are right, I can take them out with my new slugthrower. It's just a fully automatic, custom-built pistol with an extended clip, but its value is immense. They never see it coming, and most enemies, convinced of the superiority of plasma, dismiss slugthrowers as primitive technology. However, the sheer, blinding speed at which the metallic projectiles fire outclasses blasters, making it hard, if not impossible, for them to deflect the shots back at me using the Force. I also carry a powerful, custom blaster because while it's hard to hit anything with, the massive amount of available ammo makes up for its inherent inaccuracy. I use it almost exclusively on non-Force users, where suppression is key.
Custom-made gripping grenades, precision sonic mines, chemical teargas canisters, and military-grade flashbangs are just a few of the non-Jedi tools I use to severely disrupt my enemy's focus and method of fighting. I distinctly recall using a flashbang on a lightsaber-wielding jerk who, in his momentary blindness, involuntarily sliced his own shoulder with his lightsaber while trying to cover his eyes. He was, most likely, a new and inexperienced recruit to the Brotherhood of Darkness.
Then there are the environmental kills. I know that the Brotherhood and their allies will ruthlessly attack any exposed medics and healers, so I often set up insidious traps, waiting patiently for a passing patrol or hoping for a lucky, passing dark side user.
The best dark-side kill I've managed so far was onboard a parked supply ship I was assigned to protect. Everyone on that ship was there for logistics and support, and yet this obvious asshole thought it was a great idea to make an easy raid for easy kills. That idea soon turned into a nightmare when I overclocked the ship's internal gravity field in the specific room he was in, causing the lightsaber-wielder to immediately fall flat on his face, his body crushing under the impossible weight. After that, he was easy pickings.
I've been in a lot of fights. Most of them I won, but there were times I knew that running away was the most intelligent course of action. I employ pure guerrilla warfare, utilizing hit-and-run tactics. This strategy works incredibly well when your opponents don't even fully grasp what you are doing. It becomes child's play to lead them by the nose, even when both you and they have the Force whispering secrets.
To successfully fight a dark side user, there are simple, pragmatic rules I adhere to:
ONE: DON'T LET THEM GET CLOSE. Their lightsabers are too deadly, too final.
TWO: DON'T RELY ON STANDARD BLASTERS. They will throw the bolt right back at you.
THREE: EXPLOSIONS AND NON-FORCE ATTACKS WORK WELL. They are hard to deflect.
FOUR: PRETEND TO BE WEAK AND TAKE ADVANTAGE. Darkside users are weirdly evil and will instinctively try to kill the defenceless to inspire fear.
FIVE: DISTURB THEIR WAY OF FIGHTING. Find their 'pause moment'—do the unexpected and cause the Force user to hesitate for a critical second.
With these five guidelines, I have consistently come out on top. My name has become famous in the right circle of Jedi Command, yet most of the rank-and-file Jedi don't make the connection that I, a Service Corps medical healer, have defeated many more Brotherhood of Darkness members than a typical Knight. All they hear is my name and assume I'm a combat Jedi skilled in unconventional methods. I intend to keep it that way; I don't want the Brotherhood to connect my kill-count with my actual designation.
I still diligently heal my comrades, but I increasingly find it easier to simply get rid of the enemy threat first, and then focus on saving life without constantly looking over my shoulder for an unexpected strike. This attitude, however, is a problem, according to the Jedi brass in charge. While a full-fledged Jedi Knight would be commended for removing the threat, I am not a Jedi Knight, and there is persistent talk about me "falling to the dark side." Just because I never give the enemy a chance to escape and kill without hesitation makes me a "liability" in their eyes.
I was recently cornered by two Jedi Masters and subjected to a formal, tense interrogation concerning my refusal to take prisoners.
"Initiate Bailo," Master Valerius began, his voice deep and judgmental. "Your combat reports are... efficient, but disturbing. You consistently refuse to take prisoners. Why this brutality? You are a healer, not a warrior."
"Masters," I replied, maintaining a perfectly level gaze, "my protocols are based on survival. I simply cannot afford the luxury of taking prisoners in a combat zone where my death is a priority target. A live Dark Sider is a persistent, existential threat to the wounded I am trying to save."
The second Master, a stern Togruta, pressed, "But your methods are brutal and un-Jedi like. We require captured intelligence."
I finally shut their mouths up with a simple, undeniable fact: "Masters, look at your own weapon." I pointed to their lightsabers. "You talk about morality, but your weapons are pure killing instruments. A lightsaber has little to no defense against it. A casual blow, if not deflected by another lightsaber, will kill or, at the very least, dismember. I simply don't have the luxury of disarming and securing dangerous prisoners. If the battlefield is not safe for me, it is not safe for the wounded. I eliminate the threat immediately."
I am getting routinely chewed out by my superiors, but I'm not entirely unhappy. It's all thanks to my unique coping mechanism: I steal things. Nothing belonging to the Jedi, of course, but anything and sometimes everything from the Brotherhood of Darkness. A Brotherhood transport shuttle was easy pickings. I just waited for the cargo doors to open a little bit, then I dumped gas canisters into the vehicle using telekinesis and Force-sealed the cargo doors shut. This only works if there isn't a Force user on board to sense the attack, but when it does work, I get one free transport shuttle and everything on board. Easy pickings, or as I call them: spoils of war.
I've gotten into the profitable habit of stealing ships, reprogramming the onboard droids for my purposes, and then sending them back to my private assets fully loaded with all kinds of useful things.
It's not all good news, however. A few Padawans, overstepping their meager abilities, got themselves captured by the Brotherhood. The only reason a dark side user captures a Padawan is to torture them into joining the dark side, or to use them as bait for a high-value trap.
I thought the Jedi were going to leave them to the dark side's non-existent mercy, but I was pleasantly wrong. A retrieval force was organized: two Masters, a contingent of Jedi Knights followed by their own Padawans, and to support them, a small, specialized team of elite soldiers, and one Force healer who had proven they could survive, it was me. I was the healer.
Using one of my recently stolen and repurposed transport ships, we stealthily approached the starship that allegedly held the captured Padawans. Of course, the enemy demanded a proper access code to board, but it's strange how many crucial things a simple protocol droid will pick up and record, and even stranger that people will overlook such fundamental security issues. "Does everyone really underestimate droids to such a devastating effect?" I sighed inwardly. You should never underestimate what a well-programmed droid can do.
I would love to say that the team stealthily entered, quietly located the Padawans, and left without trouble, but the damned Jedi don't seem to understand the concept of subtlety. They didn't even bother to change their clothes. Almost immediately, they ignited their lightsabers, which is a dead giveaway that the multi-colored weapons were not part of the Brotherhood of Darkness. The team destroyed whatever they came across, be it dark side apprentices or full-on dark side warriors.
On the other hand, a profound feeling of unease settled over me. There was something seriously amiss. The Force wasn't explicitly telling me anything, but my gut was practically turning on itself. I decided to separate myself from the main group. I quickly changed my robes, donned an engineer's belt and tools, and used a bit of mild Force projection to appear hurried and preoccupied. I looked like any average, overworked technician.
"I need to check the environmental controls in the starboard wing!" I yelled to a nearby Master, who merely waved me off, preoccupied with a duel.
I shouldn't leave the group as I am the designated healer, but it was obvious to me that they didn't need me. This terrible, nagging feeling was causing my hair to stand on end.
The ship was on full alert, yet I didn't get a second look with the Jedi creating massive amounts of chaos and damage elsewhere. I had complete free reign of the ship. As I went through the corridors, I deployed my spy drones. They still looked like bees, but I had upgraded them slightly; they now possessed micro-stings capable of hacking the local security video systems and relaying the feed back to my holo-bracelet.
I flicked through the images until I found what I wanted: the location of the captured Padawans. They were secured, but what I saw turned my nervous stomach again. There didn't seem to be any major security, all the Padawans were fine, and none appeared to be tortured or harmed. This completely contradicted everything I knew about the Brotherhood of Darkness's interrogation methods.
I flicked through the images and found the Jedi Masters. They were deliberately going in a completely different direction from the trapped Padawans. I watched as they violently busted into a large room full of meditating dark-side users. The resulting battle left shivers down my spine. Both dark side and light side Force users dropped like flies as the intense battle continued. The special soldiers died almost instantly, not because of the enemy, but because they were suicide bombers. They detonated their charges, taking out a huge chunk of the Brotherhood of Darkness and giving one of the Masters a chance to grab something from a central pedestal and call a sudden retreat. Just as fast as the Jedi entered the room, they had left, being chased by the surviving Brotherhood warriors.
I couldn't believe my eyes. The Jedi had left wounded and unconscious allies behind, and even more unbelievable, the dark side users hadn't finished them off, their attention focused on the Masters. Whatever the Jedi had stolen was something immense.
I watched the images of the Jedi making their way back to the hangar bay and boarding my stolen transport shuttle. The bastards had gotten what they needed and had abandoned ship, quickly pursued by Brotherhood fighters.
It hit me with the sickening force of a concussion grenade. The mission was never to rescue the Padawans; it was to collect something. Those calculating assholes had abandoned the Service Corps healer and the remaining wounded on a Brotherhood of Darkness battleship without even telling me the true objective.
No wonder my stomach was telling me things that the Force hadn't revealed. The Force wanted this thing more than it wanted to tell me what was going on.
"The Force," I concluded, turning away from the chaos, "is an absolute asshole, too."