The approach was extraordinarily unorthodox.
Was this the level of desperation that had seized the Jedi after the Great Purge, or was it simply Qui-Gon’s personal philosophy?
I understood, of course, that all Jedi were fanatics to some extent, but casually endorsing mind manipulation left and right in the name of the Light Side…
Actually, that sounded very Jedi.
Long live Skywalkerian Jediism.
The important thing was that Jinn did not stop teaching me.
Survival remained the highest priority when both Vader and Sidious would eventually be hunting me.
The old perverts.
“Meditate more,” Qui-Gon instructed.
“It will help you control your abilities.
What worked once may not work the next time.” The Force Ghost vanished, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I needed to find ways to become less vulnerable, and quickly.
The way canon was derailing itself made me deeply uncomfortable.
There was far too great a chance that I would not survive long enough to see the Battle of Yavin.
I needed money.
I needed loyal allies.
I needed to get my hands on a lightsaber and finally begin proper training.
The only problem was figuring out where I was supposed to acquire all of that.
… The last Separatist J-1 proton cannon exploded, leaving the rebel base without protection.
The battle had been costly for the Empire.
Another Star Destroyer had lost control and rammed the final Golan Space Defense Platforms, which had stubbornly continued fighting against the overwhelming forces of Death Squadron.
A thermonuclear detonation painted the morning sky in blazing light, consuming both Imperial and rebel personnel attempting to escape in lifepods.
Yet another Star Destroyer was limping toward the rear of the formation after losing its bridge and all primary systems.
“We’re finished.
The skies are clear,” the Zabrak reported through his built-in comlink after landing on the ground.
Only static answered him.
“That’s the third destroyer,” observed the Miraluka who landed nearby.
“We need to take out their electronic warfare systems.” The enemy’s electronic warfare network was aggressively jamming all communication attempts with the fleet and the distant elements of the Stormtrooper Corps currently assaulting the ruins nestled among the mountains.
The rebels possessed seemingly endless ranks of B1 battle droids left over from the Clone Wars, poorly organized but fanatically committed militia forces, vulture droids occasionally employed as kamikaze weapons, and heavy artillery.
All of it was being used to grind the advancing formations of the 501st Legion into dirt, stone, and sand.
“Boys, can you believe they thought Antarian Rangers armed with vibro-pikes could stop me?” came a voice from behind them as the Twi’lek appeared.
“They’re so slow…” The two Inquisitors ignored their excessively talkative companion in perfect synchronization.
Neither had any desire to work alongside her, but circumstances left them little choice.
Mutual dislike was standard practice within the Inquisitorius, and the Ryloth-born favorite who advanced through the ranks by climbing into someone’s bed was not particularly loved by her fellow acolytes.
Even so, no one dared openly challenge the orders of the Grand Inquisitor or the Emperor standing behind him.
“…in pursuit.
Three Force-sensitives…
trying to reach a ship south of the large gray pyramid…” crackled the Korun woman’s voice through the comlink, heavily distorted by interference.
The Zabrak glanced at the Miraluka, with whom he had developed a workable partnership during the mission.
A decision had to be made.
The escaping Jedi could not be allowed to flee, but the communications problem also needed to be solved as quickly as possible.
“Jerec, find and destroy the rebels’ electronic warfare system,” ordered the Zabrak, technically the senior of the two.
“We’ll go after the fugitives.” The Miraluka nodded without a word and disappeared in pursuit of his objective.
Ignoring his unwanted companion, the Inquisitor sprinted toward the massive gray pyramid that only hours earlier had served as one of the rebels’ primary defensive positions.
An Imperial-class Star Destroyer had obliterated it with heavy orbital bombardment, leaving behind little more than rubble and corpses, but the stronghold itself had been destroyed.
Meanwhile, the battle in orbit continued.
One rebel Recusant-class destroyer split apart at the center.
Another rammed an Imperial-class Star Destroyer before vanishing in a thermonuclear flash.
The Empire’s situation was steadily deteriorating.
Lord Vader would be furious.
They could not afford to let the fugitives escape.
When Inquisitor Ja’ce Yiaso reached the designated location, he found two fellow Inquisitors blocking the path of three rebels whose presence together was highly unexpected.
The trio was rushing toward a freighter hovering a meter above the ground while pouring cannon fire into the stormtroopers attempting to approach the battlefield.
Nearby lay the lifeless body of an Aqualish warrior, pierced by a lightsaber and still clutching a vibro-pike.
A tall blond man with long hair and a red lightsaber had already severed the left hand of a bald Inquisitor below the elbow and was now methodically finishing off the unfortunate man, who had retreated into a desperate defensive stance.
The Korun woman was engaged in combat with a gigantic Yuzzem wielding a blue lightsaber.
The giant was overwhelming her through sheer physical strength alone.
Behind the strange pair moved a blonde woman armed with blasters, firing whenever an opportunity presented itself.
A blaster wound was already visible on the Korun’s leg, noticeably slowing her movements.
Capitalizing on the distraction of an Inquisitor dodging incoming blaster fire, the blond warrior severed his opponent’s legs and beheaded him an instant later.
“Tol Skorr!” the Zabrak roared.
“You should be dead!” The former Dark Acolyte, standing beside Jedi for reasons known only to himself, turned toward the newcomers.
He summoned the fallen Inquisitor’s lightsaber into his hand and prepared to fight.
“Tyria, leave without us,” he called to the blonde woman as she sprinted toward the freighter, where a Mon Calamari had already appeared in the hatchway with a blaster in hand.
The Inquisitors no longer had any chance of stopping her.
Instead, they charged Tol Skorr simultaneously, attacking from opposite sides and attempting to split his attention.
Ja’ce understood perfectly well that they were hindering one another.
They lacked any experience fighting together.
On the other hand, the blond warrior seemed equally inexperienced at wielding two lightsabers simultaneously.
Deflecting the Rutian Twi’lek’s strike aimed at his neck, Tol Skorr slipped past the Zabrak’s thrust toward his heart and a second later hurled him through the air in the direction of the Yuzzem.
The giant struck the Korun woman in the chest with a kick at almost the exact same moment, sending her flying.
She slammed into a stone fragment and collapsed.
Her neck had broken.
She was no longer a threat.
The Zabrak barely managed to evade the giant’s follow-up attack, intercepting the blue lightsaber with his own crimson blade.
Forced to abandon the Twi’lek to her fate, he shifted his attention to this new enemy.
The Yuzzem was clearly a former youngling or Padawan, trained only in the fundamentals of Shii-Cho.
Even so, he had overwhelmed his opponent through sheer physical power despite her reliance on similarly strength-oriented techniques.
Ja’ce had no intention of repeating the Korun’s mistake.
He refused to let the giant force him into a battle fought on those terms.
Dodging and parrying the attacks of the younger Jedi, whose movements were unexpectedly precise and swift for such a massive being, the Inquisitor deliberately exposed himself and baited an attack that was meant to become a trap.
The Yuzzem moved faster than expected.
His blade sheared away most of one of Ja’ce’s horns before the enraged Zabrak slipped between the giant’s legs, drawing deeply upon his fury.
His crimson blade carved upward from groin to right shoulder.
The Yuzzem split apart.
Rising to his feet and Force-pushing the two halves away, the Zabrak glanced toward the second duel just in time to witness Tol Skorr bisecting the Twi’lek slightly above the waist after she missed a critical defense.
The Emperor would not be pleased by that.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the Inquisitor spat.
“Now I’ll have to kill you.” …
“Vuz, understand this,” I said to the native of the Tapani Sector.
“You are never going to pass for a Tatooine local.
Trying to imitate lifelong residents only makes you look suspicious.
Everyone knows everyone here.” He frowned at me but wisely refrained from arguing.
He already learned that lesson firsthand.
I did not even bother mentioning that his face alone guaranteed he would never pass as a native Tatooine human descended from settlers of Bestine IV.
“At the same time, Tatooine has always had plenty of travelers and immigrants,” I continued.
“People are perfectly willing to accept an outsider who behaves naturally and doesn’t interfere with anyone else’s life.” While arranging Reva’s legal identity, complete with a local equivalent of a burqa and niqab just to be safe, I was also trying to normalize Vuz’s situation.
The goal was to transform him from the local eccentric into an ordinary immigrant.
A little strategic meddling with the minds of the Agricultural Academy’s administration had secured him a salary increase and an administrative position.
As a result, the fugitive aristocrat’s official income had doubled.
The amount was still modest, but it was finally enough for him to live with some dignity.
I had not yet launched any of my own capitalization schemes, though I was planning one particularly ambitious venture and scouting opportunities.
Things needed to move faster.
Which inevitably brought me back to W.
Wald’s suggestion.
Besides, I genuinely enjoyed swoop racing.
All that remained was practice and preparation.
“A year, maybe a year and a half for adaptation and preparation.
Reva can stay with you.
Publicly she’ll be your wife or concubine according to some local custom or another.
We don’t have time for idleness anyway,” I said, trying more to reassure the aristocrat than to convince him.
“Eriadu.
The nearest human world where covered women are a cultural tradition is Eriadu,” Kazm corrected automatically.
“And where does this certainty come from that something major is about to happen?” “You know Force-sensitives sometimes receive visions of the future, right?” I asked in the most mysterious voice I could manage.
“And you know those visions are almost always interpreted incorrectly,” the aristocrat replied with a crooked smile.
I could practically feel the wave of indignation rolling off the recently awakened Reva, who was observing our discussion from the sofa.
All because Vuz had dared make a perfectly reasonable criticism of my theory.
A difficult case.
Then again, that one was entirely my fault.
I would have to deal with it myself.
“They’re probably just interpreted badly.
And who could possibly help me understand events on a galactic scale better than an expert of your caliber?” I returned his smile.
“Can you handle it?” “Let’s hear what you’ve got,” replied the professional parliamentarian, taking the bait immediately.
He reached for a bottle of reasonably priced but obviously imported wine.
His fondness for alcohol showed no signs of diminishing.
Fortunately, it did not appear to affect his intellect.
At least not yet.
All that remained was to hope that the descendants of the Skyriver Galaxy’s equivalent of Mongoloids did not become alcoholics quite as quickly as their terrestrial counterparts.