It only took a flick of Galen's wrist to block Mara's shot, but the quick switch of weapons was sudden enough that he hadn't been able to send it directly back at her. Instead, the blaster bolt struck the cargo deck wall with a sizzling whine. Galen silently thanked the Force that Mara's inner hull wasn't magnetically shielded.

The distracted thought cost him his balance. Mara was low to the ground now, her hand pulling on his less-weighted leg, and he pitched toward the deck. Reacting on instinct, Galen rolled with the fall, twisting on the metal floor as he did. Galen lifted his head and right hand, its fingers still curled around his lightsaber hilt. The Force surged through him.

His reflexes, though, had made Galen use his weak, artificial hand to focus his power, and the Force Push that struck Mara's compact form was only strong enough to send her briefly tumbling back rather than sailing across the cargo hold.

"Better," he barked. "Play to your strengths. Keep your opponent off-balance, literally and figuratively." Galen's blade sprang back to life, and he flipped it backward into his favorite reverse grip. With no warning this time, he whirled, blade making a glowing red arc, level with Mara's throat.