Form III: One Man Fortress Against All Odds.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Tatooine. The desert planet from which Anakin and Luke Skywalker emerged from obscurity to leave their own distinctive marks upon the galaxy. Wei always had thought it strange that a planet destined for obscurity would provide the two people who were arguably the most influential people in the history of the galaxy.

Wei sat in the famous Mos Eisley Cantina. He sat at the bar, casting his gaze around at the unseemly aliens who looked like they all worked for the Hutts and the poor human moisture farmers who looked older than they were thanks to the harsh climate brought by the planet's two suns.

"Moisture farming. Climate-wise, this planet might be dry, but booze-wise it is wet!" Wei signaled for the bartender to refill his glass with the cheapest Corellian alcohol he had.

"I wonder which table it was where Han Solo was supposed to have shot first?"

While the whiskey Jedi pondered over why some people felt it was so important a renegade would shoot first, he did not notice the people around him.

[Palara Iscandar]

Imperial Centre (or Center, if you were Corellian) always grated on her nerves, like grains of sand in a protocol droid's joints. The planet was black with the Dark, and she hated being there.

It was not that the planet wasn't intriguing; Emperor Palpatine, Vader, Inquisitor Atrapes, Grand Inquisitor Valten, all of them could have been said to have been made here, on what was once known as Coruscant. Speeders moved, so many and so often it was like the planet was alive, its veins pulsing light. And the ships came so often in and out of the planet that it seemed like the planet was the heart of the galaxy; all corners made their pilgrimage to its Centre (or, again, Center). The planet, though for all intents and purposes dead, was alive with activity.

The shuttle bucked slightly as they began to exit the atmosphere during one of the scheduled rainstorms. Thunder crashed, and Inquisitor Iscandar felt amused at how like the real thing it sounded. It was like a holo-recording of actual thunder, perfect in every way save that it was not real.

From the co-pilot's chair, she could see the Citadel, proud and silent, stabbing darkly up to the clouds. Lightning occasionally stabbed into one of the spires and fed the massive building with thousands of hours of energy. That was her last sight of the planet, before the manufactured clouds closed in, the thrum of water on the hull slowly ceased, and finally the dark silence of space opened up before her eyes, and she saw the Inquisition Ship Silencer, a Specter-class Corvette, waiting for her.

[Rev Solomon]

On the stool beside Wei there sat a tall, dark-skinned man in a loose beige shirt with a pristine white collar that marked him as clergy. On the bartop in front of him was a broad-brimmed nerfhide hat and a long-necked bottle of an obscure Dantaari beer, which he cradled as if it were more precious than liquid gold.

The preacher tuned slightly in his seat and looked Wei up and down before his eyes fell on the Jedi's glass of whiskey, already nearly empty for the third or fourth time. "Looks like you've worked up quite a thirst," he said idly in the manner of rural folk who consider conversation to be a God-given right. "It's only right to tell you in a climate like this, a drink like that's only going to make you thirstier."

[Wei Wu Wei]

"I. Am not. Thirsty."

Wei hadn't broken up the sentence for emphasis: he was just too drunk to be able to pick out all the words he wanted quickly enough to string them together smoothly. He hiccuped. It threatened to turn into a burp, but the former Jedi kept it back.

"Waiting for something. Looking for someone."

Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them. Let the Force be your guide.

The voice spoke directly to Wei. The words only just managed to penetrate the force field the alcohol wrapped around his brain.

"What about you? You thirsty?"

[Palara Iscandar]

The crew of the Silencer were standing at attention as she entered the ship and the hatch closed behind her.

"To your stations," she said. They saluted and split up. Four to the turrets, two to the bridge, and the others to their cabins to prepare for the operation.

She herself walked to the bridge with the two pilots, and upon entering, sat in the commander's chair and keyed on the holoprojector. Inquisitor Atrapes appeared, in miniature and familiar blue-grey shade.

"Inquisitor Iscandar, your mission is to capture one Wei Wu Wei," the recording began. A plethora of images came up on the screens around her as the image raised its hand. "The information available should be on your screens. He is a Force Adept, and well trained. We have tracked him across three planetary systems; and now we have evidence suggesting he is on Tatooine."

Iscandar reviewed the footage of the Adept, striking through several stormtroopers, with the aid of another, in a crowded spaceport. Age, height, weight, and other distinguishing features came up next to a rotating holographic bust of the man.

"We have records of Wei, in a raid done by Inquisition forces some years ago, before the dating of records was completely finalised. He appears to have knowledge of the location of a Jedi artefact. He must not die, or it is lost."

Iscandar turned back to look at the hologram just as it winked out.

"Set course for Tatooine," she ordered.

"Setting course for Tatooine," the pilot responded, keying the requisite coordinates for the jumps to the system. "Hyperdrive activating in three... two... one... activating."

The viewport glowed as space stretched out before them impossibly, and the bright glowing tunnel of hyperspace appeared.

[Rev Solomon]

The preacher laughed. "In this heat? You bet I'm thirsty. Right now I'd give my right arm for an iced Dantaari tea. But water's more expensive than wine in these parts, so they're not big on tea. This is the closest thing I could find."

He took a measured sip of his beer, which was more or less like drinking water out of a Dantooine hay field, but it was cold, and it was familiar, and above all it was wet. The alcohol was an afterthought, more a preservative than anything else, and the effect was negligible on Solomon's lanky frame, nearly two meters tall.

The preacher gave Wei a pensive look, as if he were trying to read to read something written with an unsteady hand. "In my experience, searching and waiting are hard to do at the same time."

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei slipped off the barstool and cast his blurry gaze about the edges of the cantina in an attempt to find the door.

"Guess I better get moving, then."

Wei stopped for a moment, swayed, stumbled backwards onto the stool, and tried again.

It was about then that a small group of Jawas scuttled by towards a part of the wall that looked brighter than average. They jabbered to each other in their strange language, then disappeared.

"Ok, gotta go. See you when I get back."

Wei didn't wait for an answer, but put one foot in front of the other, keeping himself fixed on the Jawas. Once outside in the desert heat, he saw more Jawas than his small group, but the ones he followed moved with such purpose, they were surprisingly difficult to lose.

Wei followed them to their sandcrawler. The gigantic ramp just started to shut, though there was no longer any sign of the little aliens. Wei tripped over the closing boarding ramp, tumbled end over end into the dark holding area, and lay very still while he waited for his brains to stop spinning the world about.

It was no good. Wei rolled over onto his stomach just in time to vomit all over the floor. The horrid sound of regurgitation along with the wet splat of food and alcohol hitting the metal floor echoed throughout the room. Wei wiped his lips on the back of his hand and spat out the dregs that lingered in the corners of his mouth. The smell of the vomit assaulted his nose. He felt both angry and ashamed. Why did he drink so much?

It was not long before the odor met the nostrils of one of the poor Jawas passing by. The tiny people surrounded Wei, opened the hatch, and deposited him roughly in a desert valley.

The whiskey Jedi stood up on his shaky alcoholic legs and dusted himself off as best he might.

"Where am I?"

Not far from my old hermitage, actually.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Wei Wu Wei

"Whatcha doing out here?"

Watching after you. Come along. The Sand People have been following these Jawas for a while now. Best to get you to a safe place before you're discovered.

[Palara Iscandar]

'How does that place support life?' she thought as she regarded Tatooine, beige and dry, sitting almost placidly in space.

"Hailing Mos Eisley spaceport," the navigational officer reported. "No clear sightings of the target."

"He eez down zere," Iscandar replied, focussing on her connection to the Force. She was absolutely sure that her objective was there. "Land in Mos Eisley. Contact ze garnison to lend Troopers to ze operation."

Despite her accent and occasional mish-mash of words, the pilot and co-pilot/navigational officer began their set tasks quickly and without question. Iscandar activated the communications-link to the cabins contained the Inqusitorial Troopers assigned to her for this mission.

Yes Inquisitor?

"Prepare for dees-embarkment," she ordered. "Once we are on land, set a defensive position around ze landing pad until furzer orders."

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei practically fell down the two steps leading into the small stone building. There was a place to cook, a bed, a small trunk, and one or two dusty changes of clothes. It was cool and shaded.

The former Jedi cast his gaze about the room. He moved through it clumsily; several times he tripped over his own feet or something on the floor.

I remember when you were knighted you had just begun to learn the lightsaber form I was most known for. Soresu: Form III. Known as the way of the Mynock, it is also called the Resilience Form. Purely defensive in philosophy and practice, Form III was once said to be the lightsaber form that best captures the Jedi mindset of non-aggression. When wielded with the skill of a master, Form III can make a Jedi invincible--but only as long as as that Jedi doesn't tire out before his opponent.

You remember the opening stance? Get your lightsaber and let's see what you remember.

Wei grabbed for his blade, rolled his thumb over the button to activate it, and took a low stance. Most of his weight sat on his back leg. His front leg extended in front of him. He held his empty front hand out with the palm open and facing his opponent. He gripped his weapon in his other hand with the tip of the blade pointed in front of him at eye level.

Good. Remember, Form III is about total defense. Therefore, there should be no wasted motion. Every block should be fast and efficient. We can achieve this by keeping our elbows in and sweeping the lightsaber in close circles. In fact, I would go so far as to say that your sphere of influence should reach no further than than the span of your outstretched arm. In other words, the tip of your lightsaber should not extend beyond the reach of your longest fingertip.

Wei found the proper distance. He swept the lightsaber experimentally around him to get a feel for it.

This is the philosophy of Soresu. If the battle is a hurricane, then you are the eye of the storm. You must maintain calm. If it is within your reach, then it enters the eye of the storm. With enough practice, it will become your Circle of Shelter, and nothing inside of it will come to harm.

Obi-Wan motioned to the chest. Open that, will you, and get the two practice drones out of there? They're simple enough to activate: they have a single red button, just like your lightsaber.

Wei did so. The droids sprang into action. Wei startled, stumbled back, and found himself off balance and leaning against one corner of the hut.

Oh, good. You've already found the first practice space. Keep the blaster bolts away from your body if you can. They only sting a little. It's not unlike being stung by an insect. Try to hit the bolts back at the drones when you can. Ready? Begin!

[Palara Iscandar]

Heat was the first sensation she could categorise upon stepping onto the surface of Tatooine. Her first thought was that the heat reminded her of the Dark; passion raging to the point of burning its own user as well as all those around him. The Trooper Lieutenant was behind her and to her left, and following him were the eleven other Troopers that formed her personal squad.

"Surround ze landing bay," she ordered. "Do not shoot to kill, but allow none to enter 'ere. We must not be noticed. Understood?"

"Yes sir," came the Lieutenant's bland vocabulator tones. The black armoured Troopers settled onto the different spires of the open landing bay, and four guarded the entrance.

"I will go to speak to ze garrizon commander," she informed the Lieutenant. at the door to Landing Bay 4. "We will 'ave need for ze Troopers already 'ere, I feel."

He saluted instead of answering. Inquisitor Iscandar left the landing bay, and pulled out her comm unit. She pulled up a hologram of the city, and marked the location of the Garrison Headquarters. It was not sizeable at all, but then too many Troopers would bog down the operation. What she would have readily accepted at the moment were more Inquisitors.

The whole planet seemed a washed out beige colour that only augmented the heat that had baked the earth she stood on. Her own darker garments contrasted greatly with the natives', but not quite so much with some of the spacers and smugglers that frequented this place. The military cut was something that would undoubtedly draw some attention.

Inquisitor Iscandar pulled her cloak about herself, and marched to the Garrison headquarters.

[Wei Wu Wei]

The drones were relentless. They fired an irregular pattern of tiny laser bolts at a steadily increasing rate. The inside of the clay brick cottage smelled heavy of charred material from the wild blasts Wei couldn't return to the drones. When he did manage to successfully send one of the lethal light lances back to the remote droids, they merely absorbed the energy and continued on.

Stop the training, Obi-Wan said suddenly.

Wei switched off his saber, which cued the droids' shutdown. "What is it?"

A disturbance in the Force. Someone is on this planet, and they're searching for something. The Force Ghost seemed to consider something for a moment. Wei, I need you to head back to the spaceport immediately.

Wei raised an eyebrow. "But we've only just begun to train."

Yes, but I have a distinct feeling you will be getting plenty of practice soon. I need you to find the datacard in the spare robes in the trunk. It's a key to a small hangar where my old Jedi Starfighter is kept.

Wei's other eyebrow joined its brother. "Beg pardon?"

When I came to Tattooine with Luke Skywalker, I took my Jedi Starfighter. Bail Organa set aside a large quantity of money in a secret account that would pay the Mos Eisley Spaceport authorities to keep it locked in a private hangar and not ask questions. Of course, that account lost funding when Alderaan was destroyed, but I fear if you do not go fetch my fighter soon, then it may fall into the wrong hands.

"What's in the starfighter?"

My old R4 unit for one, and along with him the coordinates of every historically significant Jedi planet. You must get to that fighter and either escape with it, or destroy it.

Wei started to ask another question, but Obi-Wan gestured at the trunk.

Don't sit there with your jaw slack!

Wei brought himself back to the moment, grabbed the card from the trunk, and set off across the Dune Sea with all the speed he could borrow from the Force. He really hoped the ship still worked. It would be of powerful use to him.

[Palara Iscandar]

"I 'ope such meezunderstandings will be avoided in ze future, yes?" she asked, her lightsabre burning the hairs from the Garrison commander's chin. He looked at her, and back over to his subordinate, who nodded, silently showing that her credentials were as impeccable as she had claimed.

"Y-yes, Inquisitor," he stammered.

"Good. I want your garrison to be stationed around ze space port landing bays en force. A Jedi will be attempting to escape. We must stop 'im."

"When?" the subordinate asked in lieu of his superior, who was breathing deeply and staring at the now deactivated hilt of Inquisitor Iscandar's lightsabre. There was a slight quirk to the Inquisitor's eyebrow as she answered:

"Now."




Getting the troops into position wasn't all the difficult, but trying to figure out which bay Wei Wu Wei would try to head for made up for that quite well. Iscandar attempted to access the Force, but it was slightly clouded, and moreover she had the distinct impression of a presence that was... amused? Most odd.

"The records date back to directly after the Purge; payment stopped after the destruction of Alderaan," the Inquisitorial sergeant reported. She nodded.

"Zat will be Wei's target," she said decisively; they'd already wasted most of the day doing general sweeps and searching for leads. "Concentrate sweeps on all avenues leading to ze bay. Post watch teams along ze routes to keep an eye out for ze Jedi. Sergeant, prepare your men; we must capture, not kill zis Jedi."

"Yes sir!" the sergeant saluted and turned back to relay her orders. Iscandar glanced up worriedly at the sky; the feeling that she was perilously close to losing her quarry was growing.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei pelted across the sands, kicking up dust and sand in his wake. He had no time to waste: even his limited abilities to sense events in progress through the Force could tell him something big was about to happen.

There it was: the security stop to the spaceport. Wei didn't have time to muster the focus he would need to Mind Trick the guards. He certainly didn't need to be fighting them--yet. Wei hit the brakes hard. He planted his feet in the sand. His enormous inertia drove him forward. Sand flew high in the air, showering stormtroopers. Then the dust trail blew in.

The sand in his clothes made him feel gross and threatened to rub him raw in places where his clothes kept constant contact with his skin, but there was no time to worry about that. The dust screen got him inside.

Stormtroopers trooped out from their numerous positions and patrols towards one location. Obi-Wan had been right. They were after the star fighter. Wei leaped onto the roof of one building, then the next, then the next. He was going to need help. No one had ordered an evacuation of the spaceport. Civillians could get caught in the cross-fire when Wei and the Imperial troops inevitably began their conflict. But Wei was only one person. He couldn't protect the people and the starfighter, too. He needed help.

That's when he saw Solomon.

"Hey!" Wei called. "Help me!"

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon had finished his beer and reluctantly ventured back out into the Tatooine heat to the old mission building on Boonta Street. He'd found a small contingent of believers there bowing in the direction of the rising suns, and he'd stood listening to their prayer chants in Huttese, not the style of worship he was accustomed to, but wondrous and refreshing all the same. He'd spoken with the old woman who led the small service and learned, to his disappointment, that the minister he'd come to see was long gone, called back to Nar Shaddaa on a family emergency.

Now the reverend was trudging through the dusty Mos Eisley streets to the spaceport where he'd landed the Exodus, considering whether he ought to try his contacts in Mos Espa or Bestine or whether the sudden influx of stormtroopers was a signal that he ought to leave Tatooine altogether. That was when he heard Wei.

Even a preacher isn't accustomed to hearing voices from above. Solomon looked up and pulled down on the broad brim of his hat to shade his eyes. Wei on his rooftop perch was nearly a silhouette against the blazing blue sky.

"Oh, there you are," the preacher said. "What's the problem, brother?"

A crazy thought occurred to him - he really hoped he wasn't going to have to talk this young man out of jumping.

[Wei Wu Wei]

"The problem is that all these stormtroopers are going that way!" Wei said, pointing towards the other end of the spaceport. "If I don't get there, and find the thing I'm looking for before they find it, I'm never going to make it! Thing is, I know what it is, and they don't! But I can't tell you because if they overhear, they know what I know!"

Wei took a deep breath. "But there's also people over there who don't know what's going on! But they need to know they're in big danger! As soon as I find what I'm looking for, the Empire will be able to find me and it very quickly! I can't keep the Empire from the thing and from hurting innocent people at the same time! And I absolutely cannot give up the thing! So I need help to save the people!"

Wei paused and thought about it. Maybe he was still drunk after all. What he said made no sense.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Inquisitor," the Inquisitorial Lieutenant said, saluting. "The squad has almost reached the landing bay. Should we enter to prepare for an ambush?"

"No," she answered shortly. "Our prey 'az already come into ze port. Pull all storm troopers to ze bay and prepare for a fight. We may not be able to access ze landing bay before 'e is upon us. If possible, we should disable ze ship zat is in zere to prevent any means of escape."

Inquisitor Iscandar wasn't one to swear; though she was battling the temptation to do so now. Setting up the blocks had been a mistake, drawing soldiers away from the battlefield. Had she been able to set them up sooner, they might have been able to force the Jedi along the cramped corners and by-ways of the port, where the terrain disadvantaged Wei, if it did not grant an advantage to the troopers.

Now they had to prepare for the Jedi to make for the landing bay and his own escape. They had no time; no time to clear the area of civilians to make it harder for the Jedi to hide, no time to set up a perimeter and flanking positions to force him to protect multiple opposing areas, they had no time to prepare adequately for this mission.

"Move quickly," she said as she trotted to a building and leapt up onto it. Her voice carried over the heat as she continued: "We 'ave little time to prepare for engagement."

She took a running leap, and began to hop from building to building in the direction of the landing bay, and ultimately, her target.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon squinted, half because of the brightness of the sky and half because what Wei had said made no sense. But then he glanced around at the Stormtroopers moving in packs through the streets around him. Every so often a group of four or more would split off down an alley or hustle into one of the big hangars that littered the spaceport. This wasn't a patrol - they were looking for something.

The preacher gave Wei a look of suspicion. Then, without another word, he stepped into the alley alongside the building where Wei was perched and disappeared from view.

And then, faster than could be explained by the rickety metal fire escape at the rear of the building, Solomon was on the roof behind the whiskey Jedi with a cold look in his eyes. "If people are going to be in danger, that means you're expecting a fight," he said. "You're going to need to tell me what's going on if you want my help with that, son."

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei took a deep breath and tried again. "The Empire is after me. Or, they're after an old Jedi starfighter I know is here at the spaceport. I need it. This is the thing I was waiting for. If I can get to that ship, I can solve--" Wei made a gesture to indicate himself, "--this."

Wei stared off towards the far end of the port. "If they get to it first, they'll take it and lock it up, or destroy it. I can't allow it. But I don't want these people here to die because they're after me. Enough people have died like that already. So I am going to need your help."

Wei turned to face Solomon. "Please."

[Rev Solomon]

"A Jedi starfighter? Here?"

Solomon glanced back down at the column of Stormtroopers in the street. The search parties that had split off were funneling back from the alleys and hangars to rejoin the main group. If there was an old Jedi fighter in one of the paddocks, it was only a matter of time before they found it.

"That's a relic of the past," the preacher said. "I don't see how it's going to solve your problems."

He was going to leave it there, but something urged him not to - the little prickling at the back of his neck that usually meant the Force was at work. And then there was the desperation in Wei's eyes, something that went beyond the existential ravings of a confused drunk.

"Of course, if you wanted to clear out the civilians, you could use a distraction. Maybe trip the sensors on a couple tibanna tanks, make it look like a gas leak. Where is this fighter?"

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei fished around until he found the keycard. He held it up to his face and squinted at the glossy surface reflecting the intense light of Tattooine's twin suns into his eyes. He cupped his hands around the card to block out the offending light.

It was a painful moment more before the blotches in his vision cleared enough for him to read the hangar number.

"It seems like it's over that way," Wei said. I wish I had a map of the spaceport, then I could find it better. But considering this thing reads Z-478, it looks to be pretty out of the way as it is."

The former Jedi pocketed the card. "The gas leak sounds good, but I don't know anything about machines."

Wei looked off towards his goal and released a long, weary sigh. "Ok. Let's go. We can do this."

[Palara Iscandar]

We are about to arrive, Inquisitor.

The sergeant's vocabulator-addled tones sounded through her headset, drawing her out of her trance; the port was too riddled with life, and the Dark, to adequately focus her senses on her prey.

People were moving quickly out of the area of the hangar, but more were curiously tagging along behind, despite the warning whispers and hisses of the wiser of the locals.

"Good. 'E should upon you soon. Trap ze entrance and set up positions to fire. Place ze local troopers in positions and wait for 'im to arrive. I shall be zere shortly."

Inquisitor Iscandar stopped, looking over the landscape of domed stone buildings, bleached pale by the suns. Perhaps they might actually complete this assignment, despite the horrible start. She felt the distinctly light sense of amusement through the Force.

She frowned.

"Place rocket troopers on advantageous elevated positions," she commanded. "Two ozzers wit zem, to guard and reload."

As you wish, Inquisitor. came the reply. She sighed and started back on her way to the Bay, and whatever odd ship was waiting for Wei there.

[Rev Solomon]

The Force moved in mysterious ways. Solomon may have been scouting Tatooine for Force adepts, but he wasn't expecting to be conscripted by one into a mission to liberate Obi-Wan's old starfighter. Maybe this was how Skywalker had felt when old Ben had recruited him into the Rebellion.

The preacher slipped by a sign proclaiming RESTRICTED AREA AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and down an alley past one of the big service hangars. There he found his target, a compound surrounded by electrified chain-link fences hot enough to melt the skin right off your bones. The place was supposed to be well guarded, but thanks to budget cuts and general corruption, it wasn't; Mos Eisley security just assumed they could strain the charred remains of any unwary intruders out of the sand at the end of the day.

Solomon strolled alongside the humming fence and took a look around. He could see black-armored troopers fanning out on a distant rooftop, but their attention was elsewhere. The preacher freed his lightsaber from its holster and, with three precise strokes, carved out a gap in the fence large enough for him to duck through.

Inside the fence was the tibanna depot that served the whole spaceport, a cluster of huge, upright tanks connected by a carousel of hoses and conduits. Solomon found a set of metal steps that sprang out of the sand to join a catwalk running around the whole perimeter of the tibanna tanks. From there, it was just a matter of finding the maintenance terminal at the main hub.

Solomon popped off the security lock with his saber and pulled back the access panel to reveal a womprat's nest of circuits and wires. "Right," he muttered, "so where's the gas alarm hiding?"

He dug out a handful of loose wires to reveal a grit-encrusted panel underneath. The label was almost completely eroded:

EM RG NCY T ST NG CYC ES

Underneath the label was a series of buttons, presumably for different alarms - loss of pressure, pressure overload, temperature spike, several others he couldn't read for the grime caked on by decades of disuse. Solomon wasn't sure which one was the alarm he wanted.

So he pressed all of them.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei could see the hangar up ahead. The middle of five roofed hangars. He could also see black and white troopers advancing on the position.

Wei shut his eyes, visualizing the door in his mind. Wei allowed the Force to enter his leg muscles. He sprang through the air with a miraculous locomotive jump. He reached with his arms towards his destination, legs pedaling as though he were running away from something. Or towards something. Wei's legs tucked underneath him, then straightened again for the landing.

He was like a human cannonball when he landed, sending up a spray of dust and sand. He whirled to face the troopers with his shimmering sea green blade pointed at his foes.

"Don't come any closer!" He said before the air cleared. When it did, he saw they hadn't come closer at all. Instead, they were in very well fortified positions. Worst of all, they had very good beads on his very open position.

"Well, maybe a little closer," he muttered under his breath. Wei took up the opening stance for Soresu and waited. It was all he could do now.

[Palara Iscandar]

Jedi spotted, Inquisitor. He has reached the hangar before we could.

Inquisitor Iscandar frowned fiercely.

"Keep 'im down. Do not allow 'im to escape. I shall be zere momentarily. Wound, but not gravely, we need 'im, remember."

Yes, Inquisitor. The sergeant answered, followed by the sound of blasters firing and then silence. Iscandar was not worried; it was training. She didn't need the distraction of running the Troopers while she was preparing to enter the fray herself.

She leapt, landing solidly on the dome of a cantina; she could see the flashes of red that indicated where the fighting was taking place. She prepared to leap again, when alarms began to blare.

"What is zis?" she asked herself, brow furrowed as she looked around.

"Are those the tibanna alarms?" One man asked a friend below. The other man nodded.

"Sure sounds like it," the other man said. The Inquisitor couldn't shake the feeling that everything was not as it seemed. A hand raised to her ear, and she spoke quickly.

"Sergeant, I am being diverted. Continue your attack, engage and capture."

Yes Inquisitor. The sound of a vocabulated scream tore through the tiny speaker. The Jedi has settled in the entranceway to the hangar. We are directing the roof teams to set up in flanking positions and will have rocket support in three minutes.

"Good." She answered. The men had mentioned that the alarms were tibanna alarms... so where was the tibanna depot?

She spotted it only a moment later. She sensed something there, something both dangerous and very soothing. It felt like the Light, when she could feel it on Imperial Centre; those fleeting moments when the Dark drew back and the Light, cold and dim, but still enough that her eyes watered as if she truly was looking into a star.

She set herself and leapt atop the buildings to the depot, looking down on it, and a brown-coated man, from a large service hangar.

He seemed to notice her as well. With the element of surprise lost, she dropped from the roof to the ground some distance from the Jedi, for she did not doubt that he was one. Her lightsaber hilt was in her hand, and she settled into a stance.

"Stand down," she said. "By order of ze Imperial Inquisition, I am bound to eizer capture, or kill you."

***

The Inquisitorial Trooper sergeant grit his teeth beneath the black armour of his helmet as another Stormtrooper fell to the ground.

"Fan out!" he called to the others, both Inquisitorial Trooper and Stormtrooper alike. "Get to his sides!"

"Yes sir!" came a number of replies. The Jedi's blade blurred quickly, deflecting the shots that came too close. This one was canny, however, and let the ones that were off aim hit harmlessly into the walls around him.

All it took was a bit of time, and they could wear the Jedi down. Two minutes, to be exact, and the rocket troopers could bring their ordnance down around the Jedi and force him to move from the protection of the hangar entrance.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon was almost back to the gap he'd cut into the electric fence when the challenge came. The sirens still blistered his ears from behind, but there was no mistaking her intent.

The Inquisition. For a moment, he was arrested by images of Serena strapped to a metal table with machines pumping poisons through her body, the plaything of the Inquisitoriate and their misbred monsters. It threatened to awaken some very cold places in Solomon's heart that he'd spent the better part of three decades trying to lock away.

He turned to face the Twi'lek woman on the other side of the crackling chain-link fence and smiled as if she'd just complimented a sermon of his.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, miss," he called back. "I have other plans for the day. Maybe next time."

He continued his progress toward the gap in the fence and found her shadowing his every move.

"Aren't you a little young to be an Inquisitor?"

[Palara Iscandar]

"My age is of no relevance to zis," she responded blandly, noting his movements through the fence, which was a significant obstruction. Her main target was still fending off the stormtroopers from the hangar bay, and being distracted for too long here would give him more chances to escape.

She could not allow him that.

Focussing on her opponent, she noted that his light seemed muted now, as opposed to before. It was the cold light of dawn in winter, as opposed to the gentle warmth of the day in spring.

"If you surrender, it will be much eazier on you," she said, following his movements. The shadows of the fence along the dusty sand reminded her of water when she moved. "Zis place is Dark enough, yes? We do not need to add more darkness and suffering to what is already 'ere."

She was hoping he would surrender, though she had a feeling he wouldn't. Violence and death always ruined her centering in the Light. She would likely need to meditate for days to regain the stability she'd lose here.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon stopped in his tracks and looked at the woman in unguarded surprise.

"Now, that's not the tune I'm used to hearing from your type. I thought darkness and suffering were the Inquisition's weapons of choice."

For a moment, he let his guard down and opened up his senses. What he saw before him was a twisting nexus of ice-white, cold and brittle, like fingers of frost hanging from a tree branch, but undeniably light.

"But you're different, aren't you," Solomon said. "Now, that's interesting."

[Palara Iscandar]

"Ze Dark is most useful in combat," she replied. "Ze Light is more... subtle? No. Ze Dark is fire. Ze Light is water. Both 'ave zeir uses. Both are tools for ze Empire."

Like myself.

She saw her opponent's stance change, but did not drop her own guard. Despite her burning curiosity as to his knowledge of the Light, she had her orders, and she had her mission.

She left what she assumed to be his rhetorical question unanswered. It was true, she was different, but again, she was not as well. And plumbing the depths of that train of thought served no purpose.

"I am to attempt to capture you for interrogation, or... convert you to our cause," she said, though her tone was laced with amusement. She could sense his answer in every breath, and every breath was a resounding 'No!'. "Failing zat, I am forced to kill you. Please do not force me to kill you."

She was doubtful that she could do any of those things at all. But she had sworn an oath, and the Inquisition, for all it failings, had introduced her to the Light, and so held her loyalty.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon shook his head. "Miss, I've been using the Light Side of the Force for longer than you've been alive."

There. He'd admitted to a capital crime straight to an Inquisitor's face. But then, there'd been no doubt about that anyway, had there?

"The Dark Side may be easier for combat. But it's not better. I've got no more desire for killing than you. So I'll give you a chance to earn my cooperation."

The preacher's hand slid down to the holster at his hip. The weapon inside was disguised as a common stunstick - it even had the working elements in the pommel end - but it was the wrong way down. He pulled it free, and it settled easily into the palm of his right hand.

"If you can strike me with your weapon, without killing me, I'll come along quietly. But if I can draw blood on you - and you know as well as I do, first blood's as good as a killing stroke - you sit down and listen to what I have to say. After that, we go our separate ways."

He buffed the side of his lightsaber against the sleeve of his left arm. "The only other alternative is that one of us dies on this sand. And I don't much care for the notion."

[Palara Iscandar]

Inquisitor Iscandar's eyebrow rose when the Jedi made his... proposition. In all her training, and of all the missions she'd heard of, never had a Jedi actually bargained.

Surely he knew that she was constrained by her position. He had to know that she couldn't accept any end where he walked away, free. She was an Inquisitor. It was her express end in life to bring the Force under the sway of the Empire by removing any independent Force adepts either by killing or by converting them to the Imperial Inquisition.

She couldn't be swayed by begging, by tears, by confidence, by money, by love, by hate, by apathy, by weakness or cowardice. Whether an infant, or a man three days from death, it didn't matter, they either had to join, or had to die. And she had to be the one to do it.

No matter how many men it took, or whether it was a waste of years of training and discipline, a waste of life, a waste of weapons or time, she had to follow that doctrine.

She lifted her comm-link, and switched it off.

"I cannot," she answered finally. She didn't look to see the Jedi's expression.

"I am trained to kill. If, perhaps, I had ze initiative and ze element of surprise, I would strike wizzout intent to kill, but facing you, weapon to weapon... I am not so skilled zat I can say with assurance zat I can draw blood wizzout killing."

[Rev Solomon]

"I'm sorry to hear that," Solomon replied. Then he smiled at the bit of gallows humor. "Well, for more than just the obvious reason. To subdue a foe without resorting to lethal force is the pinnacle of combat for a Jedi. You're not exactly in the right profession to hone your talents."

[Palara Iscandar]

"My talents are not mine," she responded, though a hint of a smile adorned her lips. "They belong to ze Empire. And, I zink you 'ave stalled me long enough, yes?"

A leap threw her into the air, over the fence that separated them, and above her opponent. A palm thrust out as she began to descend, and with a grunting cry, she swung her lightsaber, which remained unactivated until the very moment it needed to be activated to strike him down.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei could feel his lightsabre's hum relax his mind. It eased his woe's like a lover's massage. Wei could feel his tension slacken, his muscles relax, and his senses open.

Laserfire rained down on him in a relentless storm. His Soresu guard opened before him as an umbrella to keep the deadly light at bay. The sand between the former Jedi and the stormtroopers turned to glass here and there. Buildings blackened with char. Once or twice a stormtrooper cried out in pain. But none of the lasers touched Wei Wu Wei. At least, not yet.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon did not move until the young Inquisitor reached the apex of her leap, five or six meters in the air, just above the high-tension wires humming with electricity at the top of the fence. And then he moved with a speed that belied both his size and his age. The preacher slipped to one side and countered her Force push with one of his own, like a rock dividing a river. Her telekinetic attack rippled around him and sent up a cloud of dust at his feet.

His next step took him past the axis of her downward-swinging strike. He ignited his saber and parried above his head with his ice-blue blade pointing down into the sand so it would channel the energy of her falling blade harmlessly into the ground.

[Palara Iscandar]

The troopers had become almost stationary within thirty seconds of engaging the Jedi Wei Wu Wei.

"Inquisitor," the sergeant radioed. "Target is especially resilient. Requesting aid."

He waited for a moment, but heard no reply. He didn't have time to make another call, or even wonder about the highly unusual inactivity, as the rocket troopers became visible through the dust that their battle was kicking up.

"Take cover!" he shouted. "To the sides!"

One rocket trooper was too slow in heeding his command, and fell dead from a ricocheted blaster bolt. Staying crouched, he made his way into a side alley to confer with five remaining rocket troopers.

"Find positions on the rooftops," he commanded, pointing to the spots where troopers both Inquisitiorial and Stormtroopers had set up covered places on the rooftops for firing rockets. "Glancing shots. I want four of you to force him from his cover and open up more angles of attack for us. One of you will force open a point of entry in the rooftop of the bay, and provide cover for a team to attach a tracking beacon to the ship or disable it."

"Sir? Have the controller open the bay."

"We can't reach him. He's probably run with everyone else. We don't have time for a group to make their way to the controlling station and open it. We need to get in there now. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" the troopers answered, saluting him.

"Let's go," the sergeant said, turning and crouching to get back to his position of cover. The rocket troopers did the same, scurrying to their positions, ready to force this confrontation to the troopers' advantage.


***


Inquisitor Iscandar was not surprised, but also somewhat frustrated, that her opening attack did not kill the Jedi. His death would severely push her off center, but a prolonged fight would likely end with her death.

She did not fear death, but she also had a mission to perform.

She dropped to her back and spun, attempting to trip the man, or cut off his legs at the knees with her lightsaber held to block a downward attack. She continued to spin, lashing out with kicks and strikes of her lightsaber until she was standing fully once more, facing the Jedi with a look of determination.

[Rev Solomon]

One disadvantage of being close to two meters tall was that it was difficult to defend against low attacks. Solomon found himself giving ground as the Inquisitor became a whirlwind of limbs and blade, and in a second he'd lost all the advantage of having his enemy on the ground. There was only one school of saber combat that weaponized the body like that.

"You've studied Ataru," the preacher said with respect. "Very good. What else do you know?"

He lifted his blue blade vertically and then swept it aside in the traditional Makashi salute.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Is zat what it is called?" She asked, dropping the lightsaber from her aggressive two-handed grip. Continuing with those fast paced strikes in this heat would end up tiring her more quickly. She turned to give him a lessened profile for striking, and kept the lightsaber firmly gripped in one hand, the blade pointed to the ground.

The more confined space of the depot would make it more difficult to make the movements necessary for her usual style.

"I was nevair told names, merely shown 'ow to use a lightsaber to defeat my opponents."

She swung, and quickly learned that the man she was facing knew this style as well, and likely to a higher degree of mastery. She needed to press her advantages.

Keeping her strikes coming quick and fast, she began to shift her movement, hoping to force him to move and use up energy. A tired opponent was one more likely to fall or be captured.

[Rev Solomon]

Makashi, the duelist's form, was an economy of motion, a stark contrast to the spectacular leaps and pirouettes associated with Ataru. It was precision footwork, calculated advances and retreats, rotating to present the slimmest possible profile to your enemy at all times. The Inquisitor's natural grace served her well.

While she pressed her attack, Solomon willingly gave up more ground and channeled his energy into defense. With his saber hilt held close to his navel, he only needed small movements to defend all zones of his body, while his greater reach meant she had to move much further to attack his sides and head.

"What we're using now is called Makashi," the Jedi explained. "It's an ancient form, based on--"

She lunged, turning a parry into a thrust aimed at his navel. He dodged to his left and pushed her blade aside into a durasteel support, sending up a spray of sparks.

"Based on dueling techniques with bladed swords. Excellent for single combat. A liability against multiple opponents, or opponents with blasters."

He weathered a flurry of strikes, then shifted to a two-hand grip and stepped into an overhead blow that sent her reeling backwards. "You should take care not to play into your opponent's strengths."

[Vince]

Bah. Delete this please!

[Palara Iscandar]

She flipped, turning her stumble into a bid for distance. All the while she kept her awareness on the tibanna tanks. A misplaced lightsaber strike could end up turning the entire depot into a crater.

The commentary she supposed could be considered a critique of her skills. One wasted quite a bit of breath on speaking, especially when doing strenuous physical movements for an extended period. That the Jedi remained unflappable through it all spoke of his experience and skill.

At that moment, she saw something of Inquisitor Atrapes in the Jedi. As he settled himself into stance once more, she could feel the chill of the filtered oxygen-nitrogen mix blow across her skin in the Citadel training rooms. The Dark skittered across her skin like the circulating air, and Atrapes was the generator that pushed it through the room. Atrapes's movements were precise and sure, graceful, like water. He knew what she wanted to learn, and offered it to her, and she accepted.

But as she stared into his eyes, dark brown, she blinked, and was once more on Tatooine, and instead of Darkness there was Light about this man in front of her.

She breathed deeply, pushing the sounds of the troopers trying to subdue the other Jedi, Wei, in the distance. There was no way she could beat the Jedi in front of her with his own style.

She leaped up, planting a boot on one of the tibanna tanks, and pushed herself over the Jedi and behind, though he followed her and kept her from having an open strike to his back. Closing her eyes in the air, she reached out and felt the debris on the ground, rocks, pebbles, and one large rusted hydrospanner, forgotten near the spot where she'd been standing. She grabbed it and pulled it toward the Jedi, launching to toward him from behind, landing and cartwheeling toward him from the front, turning the momentum from her movement into a speedy strike to his head, followed by a quick switch from the acrobatic Ataru to the quick, graceful style called Makashi.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei's re-learning of Soresu was like an out of practice swimmer spending a few minutes in a pool before diving into a storm-tossed ocean. He could manage the chaos, but only by dealing with what was immediately around him.

As such, Wei had only maintained his perfect guard because he was only focusing on the laser bolts as they entered his sphere of influence. Though his eyes saw the stormtroopers changing positions to allow for new arrivals, he didn't actually comprehend the change or why it mattered.

The difference hit him hard and fast. A screaming rocket-propelled grenade blew past his face. BOOOM! Wei noticed the rocket just as it reached the edge of his defensive canopy. He started to angle his lightsabre around when he realized what it was. The former Jedi jumped straight up as the deadly weapon impacted the hangar door, shattering both the durasteel and his focus.

The explosion rang in his ears. The lightsabre's hum couldn't reach him. The world shrank. Deadly light raced past him. Heat and debris billowed up from below. His hands quaked. He needed a drink.

Swallowing out of fear, panic, and addiction Wei Wu Wei plummeted back to the scorched earth.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Move!" the sergeant shouted as the rocket propelled munitions performed admirably. As the Jedi was obscured by the smoke, the Stormtroopers closed in, and the Inquisitorial troopers kept their eyes, and blaster sights, on the cloud.

Above, another explosion blackened the domed roof, several thick cracks spreading through the thick duracrete.

[Rev Solomon]

This was the problem with giving your opponent advice in the middle of a battle: they might just take it.

In his mind's eye, Solomon could see the spanner hurtling with enough force to give him one ungodly headache, and he didn't need his mind's eye to see Palara's saber kiting in to cleave his head in two. That was the strength of Ataru - the ability to strike at your opponent from anywhere, and everywhere, a classic counter to the very linear form of Makashi. Even in the volatile confines of the tibanna tanks, the Inquisitor was getting creative.

Solomon dropped to one knee and raised his saber to parry her falling strike, and the spanner hissed overhead and sliced itself in three pieces on the crossed saber blades before whistling off into the bowels of the refinery. Then the preacher drove the open palm of his off hand into Palara's solar plexus, and the Force blasted her off her feet and sent her ragdolling out of the circle of tibanna tanks onto the hard sand beyond.

That was when Solomon heard the rocket blasts from the hangar. Wei was in trouble.

He looked up at the upright tanks towering above him and leapt, sending up a swirl of dust, and landed lightly on the rounded top of the nearest tank, ten meters in the air. From his perch, he could see a smoke contrail connecting a black-armored trooper on a rooftop to an open hangar door some hundred meters away. Across the alley, another rocket trooper took aim. Wei was in trouble.

[Palara Iscandar]

The impact with the dusty, sandy earth of Tatooine jarred her senses and she barely managed to regain herself before tumbling into the charged fence, ending the fight early, and likely resulting in the failure of her mission.

Explosions echoed from the hangar bay. The rocket troopers had arrived then; perhaps this mission wasn't lost after all.

She stretched, keeping an eye on the Jedi standing atop a tibanna tank. She leaped, flying at Solomon with her saber held ready. Her attack diverted quickly, as she kicked off the tank that he stood on to another, and then back, slashing at his front once while throwing her momentum into a kick that was aimed at his leg.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon blocked her saber blade cleanly but was a moment slow in shifting his feet, and her kick swept his feet out from under him, knocking him down to the roof of the tank. She was on him immediately with a rain of vicious strikes, and it was all he could do to bat them away and roll off the edge of the tank onto the raised catwalk that ran the perimeter of the refinery.

The grating vibrated beneath him, and he could hear a few rusty bolts give way and tumble down into the metal rigging below. The catwalk was just a few more impacts from collapsing into a heap of jagged metal.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei hit the sandy ground hard. Without the Force to help him stick the landing, his knees buckled under him. Wei sheathed his weapon so it wouldn't give away his position in the smoke cloud. He just wished his ears would stop ringing.

The whiskey Jedi stumbled backwards until he hit the hangar door. The keypad was on the left, right? He groped his way along the door as he fished around in his pockets for Obi-Wan's passkey.

The smoke would be clearing soon. If only his head would clear as quickly.

Trust the Force, Wei!

"Obi-wan?"

You must hold out for a few moments longer!

The sirens Solomon set off during his distraction were joined by a different set of blaring alarms: Sandstorm warning. Within minutes the entire spaceport would be shut down. Wei had to get into the hangar before the spaceport's systems locked down everything to weather the storm. But where was that blasted passkey?

[Palara Iscandar]

Inquisitor Iscandar was prepared to begin their duel again when another alarm wailed over the incessant scream of the fuel depot's testing alarms and the sounds of blaster fire and explosion.

"Stars' End," she growled, and looked around for the reason for the newest alarm. In the distance, a darkly tan cloud rose to the sky. "A sandstorm."

She cast a swift glance to the Jedi, who also seemed to notice the oncoming storm, and made her decision. She deactivated her lightsaber and jumped away, reaching the ground already pumping her legs for the run to the edge of their impromptu battlefield. She called upon the Force, and jumped again, landing precariously on a rooftop overlooking the depot, and oriented herself to the landing bay where Wei was attempting to escape.

She had to keep him from leaving the planet.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon rose to his feet on the swaying metal catwalk and watched as the Inquisitor bounded away toward the disturbance. Well, that was it, then. Either the young man was going to escape in Obi-Wan's starfighter, or he'd be dead or in irons before suns' set. There were very few Jedi who would have a prayer against a squad of Inquisitoriate troops and an Inquisitor. And the fact was, Solomon had done all he could to give the stranger some breathing room. He'd certainly done more than was wise. Let the fool go to his folly. It was time for him to leave.

The preacher dropped from the catwalk and landed at a dead run, kicking up clouds of sand behind him. A Force blast punched a speeder-sized hole in the crackling fence, and he was through it before he consciously registered that he wasn't sprinting away from the Inquisitor but after her.

This was foolishness. The young man may have been an adept, but he'd been talking nonsense, pursuing a Clone Wars antique that could have no possible value to anyone but a museum. There was no rational reason Solomon should risk his life for the man.

But reason be damned, Solomon was pushing on through the sandy streets as the dust began kicking up in the wind, knowing ruefully that he was going to pay later for pushing his muscles so hard. He was following his instincts, that much he knew, and the will of the Force sometimes crossed his own will, but he didn't see the profit in putting himself in the middle of a heavy weapons squad. He was no Soresuist - he couldn't defend a man against that many guns at once, especially not if the only escape was aboard a one-man fighter.

The preacher burst out onto a paved taxiway and looked up to see Palara framed against the white-blue sky. And then it was clear to him. He wasn't here to save the young man. He was here for her.

His knees were already protesting, but he shut out the pain and leapt straight up onto the edge of the warehouse roof some ten paces behind the Twi'lek. "Excuse me, miss," he said, "I was looking forward to finishing our conversation."

[Palara Iscandar]

"Excuse me, miss. I was looking forward to continuing our conversation."

Her lekku bounced against her shoulders with the speed she turned her head to see the Jedi standing behind her. She schooled her expression quickly to one of studied neutrality.

"I cannot allow myself to be beaten just yet, Jedi," Inquisitor Iscandar said, only a slight note of how bitter a pill it was to know that she was forced to run from him to complete her mission. "I 'ave a mission to complete."

She kept herself facing the man, but the wind was picking up and her instincts were telling her to find cover quickly.

[Rev Solomon]

"So do I," Solomon replied. "Just hear me out, and I'll let you go in peace."

He didn't believe for a moment that she'd be willing to wait. But he had to try.

[Palara Iscandar]

She jumped; or rather, she wanted to jump so much she could feel herself jumping, but could also feel the hot baked stone beneath her boots which anchored her to reality and her place on the roof.

But something stopped her. The Light called from this man. Or rather, it didn't call so much as it reached for her, through him. She had craved the Light ever since she had first felt in that dark room in the Citadel on Imperial Centre, a stab of peace through the roiling passions and pain that stole her breath from her.

It was muted, but only just enough that she could sense it without being overwhelmed.

Part of her, a large, and fairly strong part of her, cowered at the sensation. She wanted to flee, back to the more familiar mission, where she knew and wanted, but could never have and hold. But another part of her flowered, and turned to this human with a dusty and dirty coat, and worn and faded boots.

"Speak quickly," she said, the wind picking up even more strongly. A third part of her rose in that moment, one part which disgusted her even as she entertained the thought: strike him down, while he was unprepared.

Two Jedi and an Inquisitor on a dusty planet, and though in the scheme of the galaxy, and the scheme of the Force, they were but ripples in a fast moving current, she felt as if she were a beleaguered fortress with too many forces around her demanding entrance.

The most frustrating aspect was that she couldn't be sure who were her enemies, and who were her allies.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei finally found the card reader. He pressed the bit of plastic up to the node so it could scan the chip inside the card. The door opened with a classic rusted screeching sound. Wei crouched as low as he could--partly so he could get under the door faster and partly to make himself a smaller target--and waited for the door to open enough to give him clearance.

Never give up on yourself, Wei Wu Wei. You were once a model Jedi: you can do so again!

Wei flattened himself on the ground and shimmied under the door. "Thanks, but I don't know that it will happen."

Then use the star charts in the fighter's navicomputer. Go see the history of the Jedi Order! Find what you're looking for, and with the help of the Force, find inner peace as well.

The former Jedi ran towards the starfighter. "R4-P17! Prepare the ship for take off!"

The little droid sprang to life. It focused its optical sensor on Wei and gave a reluctant whistle. "Obi-Wan gave me this card! Please let me in!"

Wei held the card in front of the droid, who seemed to take far too long to scan the thing. Then at last, the seal on the cockpit hissed and the canopy began to open.

"Flight now, pre-flight check later!" The Sith are firing on us as we speak!

Understood.

The droid was already communicating using the screen inside the cockpit. The fighter left the ground, turned towards the ceiling of the hangar, and shot a hole large enough for the fighter to escape.

Sand and wind lashed at the ship. Wei gripped the control yoke with a white knuckled grip. Laser fire and grenade explosions peppered the rear of the fighter.

Shields online. That was close.

"You don't say? Just hurry up and get us out of here!"

Acknowledged

Wei felt himself pressed against the pilot's chair. Soon it was quiet. The only thing Wei could detect was the vibrations of the engines behind him. His mind steadied. The shaking stopped. He was once again centered. He didn't need a drink.

"Whew, glad that's over."

What is your name?

"Wei Wu Wei."

Are you a Jedi?

"I was once."

Databanks confirmed. Jedi Knight Wei Wu Wei. Also known as the Force Cripple.

[Rev Solomon]

She'd stayed. That was a minor miracle in itself. Solomon was going to have to make his next words count, because it may be her only opportunity to hear a Jedi speak from anywhere but an interrogation booth.

"I don't know how you came by the Light Side of the Force," he said. "Until now, I would never have guessed the Inquisition might tolerate a practitioner of the Light. I won't tell you that the Jedi way is the only way to know the living Force, and for all I know you're exactly where the Force would have you to be. But I need to give you a warning, one you won't hear from your Inquisitor colleagues."

He extinguished his blade and took a step toward her, and his face held all the earnestness of a mountain.

"They would have you believe the Dark Side and the Light Side are two faces of the same coin. They are not. The Light Side is what gives all life its form and its purpose. But the Dark Side has no purpose. It is chaos. It is corruption. The Inquisition uses it because it offers quick and easy power, but ultimately it will destroy them, as it destroyed Palpatine, as it destroyed Vader, as it destroys all who devote themselves to its teachings. I have seen the work of Inquisitors before. As long as you are in their company, you will be in danger of losing what makes you unique."

Another rocket's report blasted like a thunderclap over the spaceport. Their time was almost out.

"I know you have your orders, and I won't stand in your way any longer," Solomon said. "But if you wish to learn what they cannot teach you, seek me out. The Force will lead you to me."

[Palara Iscandar]

"The Jedi has entered the hangar bay!"

The Sergeant would have cursed the Jedi at that moment, if the harsh discipline instilled by the Empire from his incubation to this moment. The fact that the Inquisitor wasn't here was noted, but he was not bred for pondering what-might-have-beens. He was bred to kill, and follow orders.

Another rocket slammed into the roof of the hangar bay, opening a small smoking hole within the duracrete.

"Move forward! He cannot escape!" he ordered, and looked up, to see the Inquisitorial troopers making their jump onto the hangar bay roof.

"IFN-223, IDK-496: place the beacon on the ship."

He could not see if they responded to the order, because the sand that was starting to whip up and obscure his vision. Thankfully the troopers' armour should protect them from the brunt of the sand-storm, but it was still common-sense to find shelter.

They hurriedly fitted the beacon to a projectile launcher attachment on IFN-223's blaster, and pointing it inside, fired. Immediately after, the ship blasted its way out of the hangar. The two Inquisitorial troopers fell to their stomachs and gripped for their lives, while a Stormtrooper was hit with a particularly large falling piece of duracrete and fell off his perch to his death.


***


Inquisitor Iscandar knew he spoke the truth, though a part of her pitied him for the implied belief that she could escape her mandate. Not all were born with the good fortune to be able to make their fateful choices.

But she desired the Light as she desired water to drink, and food to eat. And so his words rattled about in her mind like credit-chips in a beggar's can.

"You are mistaken, Jedi," she said, raising her voice to speak over the strengthening wind. Her eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the sand that was thick in the air around them. "Ze Force, it is not my ally. It is a tool, as I am a tool. It will not listen to me, for I am deaf to it. I will not be able to find you."

The sound of a ship's engines pushing it out of atmosphere reached them. Their eyes followed the obscured sight of Wei's escape.

She stood, and gave the Jedi one last look. He seemed to know, as she did, that what she said wasn't entirely true, if still not false.

[Rev Solomon]

For better or for worse, Solomon had done his bit - he'd helped the young man escape. Of course, it stood to reason that with her primary objective now leaving atmo the Inquisitor would go after the consolation prize standing before her. Between her and a full squad of Inq troopers, the preacher's chances would look pretty grim.

But then the wind picked up, and he could see the sandstorm gushing through the streets around the warehouse like a tidal wave. Call it luck, call it divine intervention, either way it was time for a parting of ways.

"The Force moves in mysterious ways, miss," he said. "You may not have to try."

A wall of dust as high as a sandcrawler rolled over the spaceport with a roar, turning the sky pink and the suns brown, and when the squall had passed moments later and the choking cloud had evened out to a sandy mist, the Jedi was gone.

[Vince]

Did it again. Delete please!

[Palara Iscandar]

"Do not activate ze beacon yet," Inquisitor Iscandar said, staring at the holographic map of the galaxy before her. "We do not wish to tip our 'and just yet."

"Yes Inquisitor," the communications droid answered from its station. She nodded and looked out the viewport of the Inquisitorial cruiser to the dusty desert planet below.

"Send a message to Inquisitor Atrapes," she said after a moment. "Mission failed. Subject escaped but not lost. A signal beacon 'as been attached to 'is ship. I am following ze signal now."

The communications droid recorded her holographically and sent the message to Imperial Centre, while Inquisitor Iscandar continued to ponder the planet below her, and the questions which still remained.

"Follow 'is trajectory and vector. It was followed, yes?"

"Oh yes, Inquisitor."

"Good."

"There are several destinations Jedi Wei could have taken from our last known trajectory and vector. Using our algorithms, I have determined two of them to be highly likely endpoints."

"Go and choose. We 'ave some time."

The droid, if it had a face plate able to be manipulated would have tried to emote confusion, but instead followed its orders.

"Coordinates and vector set. Hyperspeed in three... two... one..."