Dominic was beaten - and a beaten Dominic was not a happy Dominic.
His ship hovered in orbit around Dantooine, a small smuggler's vessel suited for only one or two people, at most. It was cloaked, so as to avoid detection; after all, the sector was alive with Republic cruisers and their ships, searching for the one that might have been responsible for the pit that was now the Jedi Enclave's final resting place.
The explosion had been fantastic - a deep rumble from the center of the ruins, the high-pitched hissing of that initial blast of air escaping from any crack it could find...and then the structure began to give way, the stone and steel crumbling with sickening cracks and snaps, sinking away into the earth as a ring-shaped cloud of dust fired out from its center. Having been the one to set it off, Dominic was far ahead of the dust cloud, and so he never knew what happened to his attacker. Not that it mattered. He didn't care to see the man again.
He ran his thumb along the bandage that hid the cut on his cheek as he spun one of the Sith's forgotten vibroblades a full three-sixty, its crosstree acting as an axis as it hooked and spun on his thumb's knuckle. Its blade sang as it cut through the air, and then Dominic caught it, silencing it immediately. Silence. That was all there ever was on this ship.
Placing the vibroblade on the shelf across from the foot of his bed, he set aside his thoughts on its owner and the woman she was defending for now. There was nothing he could do; he hadn't the foggiest idea as to where they might have fled to, and so had no way to give chase. All he had to do now, he surmised, was to return to Coruscant and report to his masters on the success of his attack. When he returned to the room once more, the hyperdrive was whirring comfortingly and the autopilot took care of the rest.