The sniper meets Rex and I in the sand. Similar to the blonde man, he shares the same face.

Handsome, angular creases. His hair is dark and in a crew cut in contrast to Rex’s, but his most striking feature is the ghostly eye. White and milky, a long dark scar reaches from his cheek to his temple. The other eye- my right, his left- is as honey colored as his brother. He’s a Clone, through and through. Both of them are clad in black turtlenecks and brown scarfs and belts.

“This is Wolffe,” Rex introduces. The second soldier nods at me coldly as I bite the inside of my cheek.

Both sets of fingers tighten around the lightsaber bodies. I don’t like Clones. When I look at them, I see flashes of a helmet streaked with yellow markings. I can see the machine guns in their hands, aimed at me with malice and hate. Every word form Rex is like a word from the one back on Ilum. I don’t like it. I don’t want to stay around them.

I can feel my heart beating against my ribs, hammering, the longer I look at their identical faces. I can’t be here. I can’t look at them. They’re the ones that almost killed me.    

“Numbers,” I’m able to order out, though my sweaty palms are beginning to betray me.

“What?” Rex fires back quickly. One of his eyebrows arch, and his bottom lip snarls with another layer of distrust.

“Your numbers,” I say. “What are they?”

Rex’s amber eyes flit from the Imperial sigil on my jacket, back to my face. They narrow, then widen back to normal. “CT-7567, and CC-3636. What is your rank?”

Through the anxiety, I’m just able to stutter out, “w-what-”

Rex raises his blasters again, now squinting both of his eyes in aggression. “What. Is. Your. Rank?”

I don’t have an answer for him. I am frozen in time, staring at the golden orbs of anger. This system, that once felt soft and calm, is now covered in layer after layer of anguish. It’s not just from me and my own memories. Rex feels it too.

“Answer,” he says lowly and slowly, “or I’ll shoot.”

Wolffe steps back, aiming the rifle at me again.

I can take both of them. I know this for certain. Blasters are no match for lightsabers, with or without training. Even so, I have the Force. But I can’t help the waves of fear that wash over at me from nothing more than knowing what they are. And I’m afraid of them, even through my pulsing anger.

“Last chance kid,” Rex grits.

In honesty, the fear had clouded my judgement far too much. I should’ve formulated a plan, been patient. But something in me was dying again and again, feeling rays of heat whiz past me as I flung myself into an abyss. I couldn’t take it.

Rex fired his blaster. I jumped backwards- into the air far higher than I had intended to. I flew higher than the AT-TE, perhaps as high as the Tie-fighter while I was flying it. It felt somewhat freeing for the second it lasted, before my feet hit the sand behind my ship. Using it as cover, I seal my sabers off and press my back flat against it.

What the kriff was that? My heart is hammering, breathing rapid as my chest rises and falls and I struggle to find a full breath.

The lack of planning didn’t end there.

First, I reach my palm straight into the air. I hear a click and a clang as the seal at the top of the ship opens up with a hiss. Within a second, my bag zips into my waiting grasp. I clumsily slip it over my shoulders before phase two of my nonexistent ploy ensues.

“Gregor!” one of them yells. It’s enough for me to suddenly thrust myself forward and turn towards the Tie-fighter. I throw my hands out as I bury my heels in the sand. The Force, coming to my aid quickly and gracefully, does not disappoint.

The fighter surges forward, skidding through the sand. It starts slowly and subtle until I curl my fingers, at which point it increases its speed tenfold until it’s flying through the air without actually flying. I have to squint my eyes from the light of the planet, from the sand that’s whizzing back into my eyes, and then the loud clang rings out.

The fighter crashes into one of the legs of the walker. My eyes widen as I watch the machine begin to tilt over with a long, low hum. I see Rex’s blonde hair as he watches up in bewilderment, taking steps back while his brother begins to yell some things I can’t make out.

I turn on my heel and begin pumping my arms back and forth as I run along. Maker, I’d forgotten how much I despise the sand. Running in it, especially. It doesn’t take long for my thighs begin to burn. After another two seconds, I hear the final boom as the AT-TE is completely absorbed in the ground. But I don’t stop sprinting across the plains.

The mountains. I have to get to the mountains. The lightsabers are growing heavy against my tight, sweaty palms. I’ll surely have callouses forming against the skin.

The dry air is merciless against my face. My pack is continuously slamming against the bottom of my spine. After a minute, sand has leaked through my boots and fallen under my soles. Like little knives, they burn against the tender flesh. My braid zips behind me, allowing the wind to pierce my ears with a subtle roar.

I don’t know how long I keep going for. I know for certain that I’ve never run like this in my life. Every time I want to stop and give my burning lungs a rest, I think I hear a gun cocking behind me, and I receive another dull burst of energy.

Everything inside of me feels intense and raw. My blood is pumping through me in frozen chords, filling my ears with a low rhythm. It’s all adrenaline, of course. But it feels far more amplified than any other time I can remember. I know my body is aching, practically begging me to stop, but I can’t. What if there’s a full battalion of Clones behind me right now? Following me, just waiting for me to slow down so that they can shoot me?

As if in response to my thoughts, my right ankle twists from under me. I spiral downwards like a corkscrew, rolling every muscle in my leg in the process. And then I’m laying in the sand like a weak little child, trying to steady my choked breathing.

I must have been running for a long time. The sky is much darker than it was before. It’s become a deep shade of lavender, dotted with little white stars and a layer of pink and gray clouds. The sand bites against my exposed fingers and bottoms of my feet. As I gaze up at the place above, my sticky fingers loosen from the sabers. In the process, my right thumb rubs against the nail of my ring finger, skidding along the black polish.

I’d almost forgotten about it. At the time that Talik had done it to me, I’d felt happy about it. Now it feels like a sad memory from a distant time, in a different life. There’s nothing to stop me from picking it off completely now, and in the end it might’ve been better for me to do so. But removing the paint would’ve been equivalent to removing the Twi’Lek from my life.

I think about her hands on me- a gentle reminder of something I didn’t want- and my eyes squint with wetness. I haven’t cried in a long time, but this time it’s hard to keep my eyes from welling up.

This makes me feel stupid. Emotions are useless, and having them is a fate worse than death. My heart breaks for anyone in the galaxy who has to live their life, day in and day out, worried or overjoyed, loved or paranoid. In contrast however, a life without as many downs as ups must be an incredibly boring one, because you already know you’re going to be lucky no matter what happens. Experience is what makes it all go around, though I damn the Maker for having to tie feelings to it.

          The color of the sky reminds me of a rather outlandish memory from some years ago. It stood out to me for two reasons- the emotional weight to it, and the stained glass windows.

          There are a lot of people in the galaxy. With people, comes races and breeds, genders and jobs. Everyone, no matter what, has some type of belief, which is quick to turn into a theory that stands radical in their mind. And, as much as I (don’t) hate to admit it, where belief is held, trouble is soon to follow.

This brings us to religion, and where I stand on it. I know there’s something out there. A long way away, past all the nonsense and deafening screaming in the void of our galaxy, I’d like to think that someone or something is watching. I don’t know if they’re watching because they exclusively get off on watching lesser beings run around trying to both solve and destroy, or because we’re their last segment of hope in this dark place, but I dream about them intervening someday. Even when I scoff at those big supporters of one, all powerful God, I know it can’t all be dung.

So I don’t know where I stand really. I believe in something, but I’m not sure what. I’m not exactly an optimistic person, so I don’t think I’m holding out faith in a savior of any kind. But something doesn’t seem completely truthful about a luminous lover looming over all of us, blinking softly before sending flaming meteors into our livers. I don’t even know where I stand on something happening after death. I mean… I sure hope something happens. I know, at least, that I still want to be allowed to see whatever happens. I want to have a spirit- even if it’s one that goes on to experience eternal damnation.

Alright, I’ve gotten sidetracked. Back to the stained glass windows.

On Bracca, the scrapper guild acquired so many members that it got difficult not to be overwhelmed with demands from the population. In response to so many outcries, the guild installed a little building that was used as a religious house. It was pretty ambiguous too, so anything could’ve been practiced depending on what the user saw. Eventually, the Empire would come through and begin putting up propaganda and posters, but this is quite some time before that.

I want to say I was thirteen still. Fourteen, maybe? Doesn’t matter. I went in, and the first thing I noticed was the three, giant windows. The glass seemed to be cracking, so each piece was a different shade- bordering differing colors. Still, the tone was all a purple. Sometimes it looked more gray, other times magenta. Pink, lavender, borderline white- but all a very distinguished purple. I know there was a picture within the image, but I was too mesmerized by the violet light to recognize it. I can’t explain it, really. I just wanted to memorize every one of the details in it.

Still, something pulled me away from it- a cough or something. I went to kneel before the windows, looking up at them as if I were going to pray. At my sides, my palms clenched nervously around my poncho, which was already slick and dripping from the previous rain. I remember feeling very much like a reprimanded child, fiddling as their mother looked down on them with disappointment.

I don’t remember what I said exactly, or if I even spoke. I just remember looking up, asking any higher power that may or may not have existed if they had any answers for me. I didn’t care if they were good or bad. I just wanted an explanation, and I would’ve been satisfied. But I waited for a few seconds, a moment even, until I realized that there was no voice booming in my mind. I had no feelings of insight or importance. I felt just as empty and unsatisfied as I was before.

I’d wanted to cry then, too. It would’ve been more acceptable, given my age, but I hadn’t. I had bitten my lip and taken it like a winner, even though I didn’t feel like one much at all. The next time I would ever go into the holy place would end in me brawling with another scrapper, which I imagine was very visually pleasing in front of the large, purple windows.

The tears evaporate into the air, and my skin feels as dry as the sand I lay on. I swallow, which burns my throat, staring at the stars for a few more seconds. I really wish I had glitteryll right about now, so I can watch them melt into each other.

I force myself to sit up then. I did some incredibly stupid things today. I’m in no position to continue making as crazy and stupid decisions much longer.

First things first: find shelter. At least a semi safe place for the night, because something in my gut is telling me it would be most unwise to sleep in the middle of the desert. I should continue to make for the mountains in front of me, but I don’t know how far I’ll be able to get with my ankle in this state. Good thing I brought those stims.

I reach around and take one from my bag. I flick it a few times to make sure it still works, as its neon green glow looks a little faded. It perks up after a second, and I stick the stim to my right ankle and hold it down until a cool feeling spreads through me.

I lock my sabers back onto my waist, and begin pushing myself to my feet. My ankle isn’t perfect, but it’s walkable. Both my legs feel sore, and my abdomen somewhat bruised, but it’s my own kriffing fault for messing with the abilities of my muscles in the way that I did.

The story would’ve been fairly boring from this point forward had he not come along. I suppose I should thank him for that, but I’d rather not boost his ego anymore than it exists.

The wind picks up as a signal of his presence. My braid whips in the air, and I squint my eyes and hold up a hand in an attempt to block the oncoming light. The Katooni appears in front of me in all its glory, causing me to bite my lip. I don’t have the energy or mental power to distinguish friend from foe at this point in time, and if it was the Empire I might’ve just told them to kill me.

But it wasn’t the Empire.

The ships ramp sizzles down, hovering above the dunes of sand I trek through. A figure appears as the door opens up. Blinded further, I lift a second hand.

“Well, well, well!” the gritty voice calls out, loud enough to hear over the roar of the thrusters. The first thing I observed about it was that the voice sounded like it was coming from the back of one’s throat. Rough and throaty, a bit like all the men I’ve encountered in my life that had some position over me.

The figure decides to speak first, letting me know that they feel they are in control of the conversation. This is definitely a ‘he who strikes first, wins’ scenario, and so far I am losing 0-2.

“I believe a greetings are in order, though first an explanation,” he says. His voice comes out distorted from under his helmet, which is black and lined with silver detailing in a rather horrific feeling pattern. “I haven’t come to rob you- not that there’s anything here worth robbing, anyway.”

Okay, a little sassy. Nothing I can’t take though.

“Do you know why I am here?”

He’s asking you a question, Keres. It’s okay to answer. “No.”

The man hums a little, as if he were amused. “Are you telling me the truth?”

I swallow dryly. Then I weigh the pros and cons of each answer I can give him, and all the possible scenarios birthing from me saying each. Finally, I decide on a simple, “no.”

The man takes a step directly forward. His boot comes down against the fish and the stick and the fire all the same, snapping through each as if it were nothing. The flame extinguishes immediately. “You’re a good girl then. For telling me the truth.”

He must’ve seen the darkening of my eyes. There’s a certain hatred developing from me to him, all because of a two word phrase I can’t stand in the slightest. I want to kill him then and there for making me relive something I’m in denial about. I want to make him suffer.

“Did I touch a nerve there?”

I’ll fucking kill you. “No.”

He takes another step forward. Now, I can get a better gage of his height compared to mine. He looms over me, but I doubt he’s over six feet. He’s letting the intimidation speak instead of his size. Funny.

“You should smile. For me.”

I draw my lightsaber without thinking. The green end comes out first, pointing directly at the center of his chest. Emerald light ripples across our features, flickering and expanding in the blades wake. I don’t think before the words come out next.

“I will kill you if you come any closer to me.”

The man’s head tilts down. I try to picture his face underneath, but all I can imagine is something hideous and vile, just like his words. “Are you sure you want to do this girl? Cross a future Sith Lord?”

My brain goes blank. The left side of my lips twitch up into a calm smirk. Slowly but clearly, I look him where I picture his eyes to be. “I can’t cross myself more than I already have.”

A red lightsaber ignites slowly against the green. They skim each other, but I don’t let my eyes wander from his mask. He’s a coward. Hiding behind a mask instead of looking at me with his full eyes. I want him to memorize the face that is responsible for his death. I want him to memorize every detail, as if we were lovers, as he chokes on his own blood.

I don’t have the space to do it here. I need to lead us out of the cave if we’re going to have an honest to Maker duel. He seems to be on the same page at least. One of my feet reaches backwards a step, and another follows. His own move in sync until I break into the open air, and rain makes him appear blurry.

“You are not nearly as good a girl as I thought you to be,” his voice oozes, almost like a promise.

I have nothing to say to him. I have taken abuse in the past. But now I have to show myself that I have not lived all this time and allowed myself to still take abuse from men.

I narrow my eyes. I can see my plan being executed now. First, I do a simple string of jabs to throw him off guard. When he’s comfortable, I jump and kick his face. A punch to the neck will discombobulate him further. Some more strikes to tire him, then choke him upwards with the Force, slam him into the mud, and stab him through his mask  before he can say the word ‘Empire’.

I’m about to do it… I’m about to-

I whip to the side, igniting the second half of my lightsaber just in time. It clashes against a blue forcefully. On the other end, I can see the angered and determined face of a pale man with slim eyes and bushy eyebrows, biting his lip in frustration.

“Ah,” the other one chuckles. “Yutaro. I was beginning to wonder when I’d see you again.”

The man with the blue lightsaber softens his power before he speaks. He has just enough time to say, “It’s never soon enough with-” before I twist and kick him so hard he flies backwards.

“I was listening to that,” the first man growls. He pushes his saber against mine so hard I jump back and disconnect. I snap my lightsabers apart so I am holding each in my hand. One green, one red. I twirl the green in my hand once before using it to block his attacks.

They are sharp and powerful. Not slow, but still calculated. They rely more on brute force. I can use this to my advantage. I just need to make a plan.

They’re forcing me to walk backwards, showing his dominance over me. From the left corner of my eye, I see a flash of blue and I jump back quickly.

When the Jedi raises his blue sword over his head, I slip out of the way and watch as he meets the red blade. They’re just as against each other as they are me. I could use this to my advantage too, I know it. The question is, how can I give myself enough time to formulate a plan and get myself out of this? I can’t just run away, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice and stop me. I could attempt to outsmart them, but how? I could use the environment, I suppose. Scale a tree? No. The Sith would just cut it down or follow me. Anywhere I run as long as they’re alive, they’re sure to be right behind me. I just know it.

While the Sith defends himself against the Jedi- who’s sweat is dripping off his forehead way heavier than it should mixed with the rain- his right hand shoots out towards me. Immediately, I am flying through the air for one, two, three seconds until a splitting pain runs through my vertebrae. A hoarse shriek escapes my lips as I fall to the ground after hitting the tree, my lightsabers coming to a close on their own. When I crash into the ground, wet dirt enters my mouth and my fingerless gloves have ripped at my palms to reveal thin streaks of blood. The injury stings, but it’ll be worse if I don’t move.

The black clothed hand becomes a tight fist, and I’m thrown stiff and upright again. I can hear my back crack and wince in protest, but there’s nothing I can do for it. Then it begins- the sudden realization that I can’t breathe.

My hands find their way to my throat, as if ripping it open would give me air. Oh, air. Sweet, sweet air. How I’ve taken you for granted for so long! If I live through this, I promise I’ll never let you go again.

          Ah, it burns. My senses are drying up, my nose feels sore and enflamed like I inhaled water. In fact, I’m almost certain I am. The rain is burning away at my skin and my insides slowly but surely. My eyes feel teary and everything is gradually becoming darker. And my throat, gods my throat. It feels tighter. It feels like someone poured salt directly down my esophagus. Force, don’t let me die, not like this. Not after all that time, all those months and years I’ve spent wandering around the galaxy. This can’t be my ending- can it? Dying without really knowing where I stand?

Weakly, I tell my right hand to feel the Force around me. After a second of my choking and my fingers wiggling slightly- it clicks. My lightsaber surges into my palm. I flick the switch and hear the unsheathing of the blade. I feel the shadows Force fingers around my throat loosen for a split moment, and then my hand slashes out behind me.

The two men stop themselves to see the giant, red barked tree falling towards them. They both leap out of the way, giving me the air I’ve needed to fling myself out of the way of the tree and away from either of them. I land about 15 feet away from the crashing wood. I don’t see either of them, but I can feel them. The darker robed one must be Aegus. The other one was referred to as Yutaro. Let’s just see if this will be a fair fight.  

If I can sense Aegus, he can definitely sense me as well. There’s no use in running or attempting to hide- that could just give away my location faster. I’m not sure I could beat him in battle. To do that, first I would have to match him in anger to match him in strength. I don’t know if I could do that, physically. It’s best I stick to aiming to outsmart him for the moment.

As soon as I ignite the other blade of my saber, the red one, I hear twigs snapping behind me. Whirling around, I raise my saber with two hands to block Aegus’s attack. He presses me down, edging his blood colored blade closer to my face, separated only by part of my own red sword. Behind his mask, his seething expression radiates through. He hates me. Hates me for both rejecting and accepting the Dark side. Hates me for rejecting the Jedi and not being able to give him the satisfaction of killing one. He absolutely loathes me for being in that gray area. He wants me dead.

Fine by me. I’ve wanted him dead the moment the words “good girl” fell from his foul lips.

I push my saber up, hitting his mask with the hilt of my weapon. He falls back slightly, just enough to take pressure off me. I strike up again, this time cracking his mask. Underneath, I can see skin so pale it’s nearly snow white. It’s haunting to see, but I have no time to contemplate or analyze it. I bring my lightsaber overhead to finish him, but he throws me back again. I hit my back against another tree- harder than the last time. I can’t afford to feel pain though, because he’s in front of me again, ready to aggressively finish me off.

I flip back, my toes slipping back in the mud clumsily. When I raise my head, I can see him edging towards me, a scowl evident on his pale lips. I can do this, I can take him.

Where’s that other Jedi? I need to keep an eye on him as well. If he’s staying back, he’s either injured, or hiding until Aegus or I kill each other, and since I didn’t see a blue and red saber clashing after the tree fell, I’m guessing it’s the former. I have to double my guard then. 

As if on cue, I feel his presence behind me. I twirl around, meeting his fierce expression. This close, I can see his eyes are amber, slanted, and framed by thick eyebrows. He hates me too. He thinks I’m a Sith, because I haven’t committed myself to the Light. I block his strike, then counter with my own.

He’s fast. It becomes a pattern, a quick, rigorous dance of taking turns blocking and attacking- sometimes at the same time. I can feel Aegus lurking behind us, like a hunter-seething, loathing, hating. He’s analyzing my every move. Every time I hop, twirl, defend, attack- he sees. I know this will give him some sort of advantage when he reaches me, but there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment. 

I begin to match Yutaro’s speed. The force tells me when to jump, dodge, when to attack. I can tell he’s taken aback between thrusts. He sees how fast I change between a double-bladed saber and just the one blade. He sees how I dodge. Does he worry the force is stronger with me then he anticipated? He must at least wonder about it now.

I throw my right hand out, and the Jedi stumbles back just enough to let me twist my body around, and slip the green end of the light saber through his abdomen. He makes a choking noise, and I attempt not to wince. I can already feel the twinge of guilt creeping up my throat, but I silence it by pushing my blade through him even more, and listen to him crumple to the ground. Then I twirl my lightsaber in my hand, loosening up the cramps in my fingers.

Aegus’s lips twist up into a cold smirk, illuminated by his blade. He surges forward without warning. I raise my lightsaber just in time, but not without sacrifice.

His red lightsaber passes right through the bound together hilts of my two sabers. They come apart in my hands, both blades flickering. My shock gives him the time needed to kick me back into the dirt. Both the red and the green blades fall from my hands and close on their own. I tumble back, dirt covering my face and clouding my vision. My lightsabers! I treasured that dual bladed advantage.

A screech pulls me from my loss. Aegus.

On instinct, I throw both my palms over my head, squinting my eyes as I watch ants slip in the blades of grass I kneel on.

This next part is not for those with weak stomachs.

Aegus grips into my right palm, reigniting the burning sensation from all the scars on top. He pulls it backwards, and my fingers spread on instinct. One moment, I had all five of them. The next moment, I did not.

My right ring finger erupts like a volcano. It burns and hisses and seems to scream all on its own. It is warm and wet for a moment, but then two rows of teeth descend upon it, just above my knuckle.

My back arches in agony, and I can’t help but cry out. My voice goes hoarse in an instant, but the scream doesn’t end. I can’t push him away, no matter how hard I try. My left hand drops the saber, and my mind goes blank with nothing but searing pain and shock.

My knees and boots clamber against the mud as I struggle and cry. I try to tear my finger away without thinking about the situation, and I’m abhorred to find I succeed. My vision narrows like a tunnel, and my heartbeat drums all too loudly in my ears. When I look down, my right hand is covered in thick, red juice. My right ring finger was half of what it was a moment ago, separated in the most raw and unclean way I could think of.

I have just enough time to grab the lightsaber at my side with my left hand before he kicks me down. Then I watch him bolt at me with a loud hiss, and my throw both my palms over my head on instinct. I prepare myself for death.

The blade pierces me, but no pain comes. A tickling sensation follows. Furrowing my eyebrows, I lift my head up and am greeted with a surprise.

Aegus’s blade is trapped in my palms, but stopped from going any further. Besides my finger, I am not injured or impaled. The light that comes from his lightsaber being so close blinds me slightly, and the heat radiating off of it singes, but I’m alright. I’m… blocking his lightsaber with my hands. I can do that? I can do that? Yes! I can do that!

Aegus’s face falls for a moment, then he grits his teeth again and pushes on me more. It’s no use.

I take one hand away from above my head and feel the electric shocks run through my palm. With a thrust, the hand shoots out- more to the Dark side than him- and I wince slightly in pain as the lightning surges out from my fingers like coils and cages Aegus inside. He screams out, and the indigo arcs carry him up and away as he rears in agony. This is it. This is my chance.

I throw my left hand out, pulling a lightsaber towards me. The red one answers my call immediately. As I sprint through the foliage and towards my kill, I notice how beautiful it looks today. Still rainy, but beautiful.

I flip the switch and hear the buzz of the blade spring to life. Reaching Aegus, I see his eyes widen and his lips part in fear. Quickly, mercilessly, I swing the lightsaber at his knee. He falls onto his side, then flat on his back.

Aegus lifts a hand up as if to stop me. His mouth begins to form the word ‘stop’. With a flick of my wrist, he is silenced. The lightsaber goes straight through his chest. I twist it for good measure.

Aegus twitches. Then he stays still.

Once I am sure that he is not faking his death, my knees buckle against each other. The pain coursing from my finger is raw and unmatched by anything I have ever felt. It’s not something I can just repair either. My finger was bitten off. Aegus may have swallowed it.

I still hate him for what he did to my sabers. I’ll find the green one, which is something broken I know I can at least try to repair, but it won’t be as clean as the Haxion Brood’s work. I’m frustrated and upset by the loss. I really enjoyed having a dual bladed saber!

I do eventually find the green bladed weapon. The end of the hilt is damaged and sparking, and the leather I bound it with is singed. When the beam erupts from the emitter, it looks unstable and flickering. There’s no way I’ll be able to fix that. It’s still usable all together, but I don’t know for how long.

After standing still for a while, I decide my best course of action is to begin to make my way back to the cave. My injuries continue to sting and protest, but I don’t blame them for that part. Least of all my right hand.

It seems I have to change planets again.

Maybe it was my exhaustion that brought me to him. It clouded what I could sense and see. I suppose it doesn’t matter how I came across him, looking back on it. All that matters is that I did- that I do.

I stand and watch the river for a while. I watch the cool, spring waters toss over rocks and flow downstream. The color is a mix between pale blue and glistening silver- like a lightsaber. It’s strikingly different from his own weapon, I’d come to realize.

When I finally turn around to continue my journey to my cave, I am stopped in my very tracks.

I’ve turned around just in time to see his lightsaber come to light. It contrasts the fleeting light in the sky. It’s… unlike any I’ve seen before.

Purple. His lightsaber is purple. The hilt is polished silver, but I can’t make out details from this distance. The blade casts a violet glow on its closest surroundings.

“Going somewhere?” he muses.

I didn’t know it in that moment, but I could sense it. This one would change my life. He would change me.

 Death doesn’t come. I have no idea why not, because between that pilot and myself, he was the one that deserved to live. I swear, if someone wants to use the whole ‘Oh, the Force works in mysterious ways!’ comment, I’m snapping and murdering a bunch of younglings.

 Kidding! (Mostly.)  

 A moment or two later, the metal pod we stay in crashes so hard I let out a squeak and am forced to jump up. With a few more twists and turns and bumps, the fighter is finally still. My right ear is ringing, the ship is on its side and I dare not move from my position- but we’re still.

 I try to still my breathing and the beating of my heart, but it’s to no avail. All I can do is blink a few times and attempt to gather my breath.

 “Garreth?” I whisper out, not sure if I really said anything over the ringing of my ear. No response. “Garreth!” I hiss, slightly louder. No response again.

 Time for a plan. Step One: Get Garreth out of his seat and out of the ship.

 Step Two: Search our surroundings and attempt to locate medical supplies.

 Step Three: Vomit, or maybe make that step one.

 Uncurling myself, I crawl over to the escape hatch that should be above me but is instead at my right side. I press a hand against it, squinting my eyes to see outside, but I’m met with nothing but a window covered with dust and the vague outline of possible mountains. I sit back on my hands and bend my knee, then extend it. It cracks the glass slightly. I kick again and again, slightly harder each time until the whole exit just falls off as a whole.

 Cheap Imperial space crap.

 I’m initially blinded by the light and the sun, and I would lift my arm to shield my eyes, but I’m too distracted with the thought of fresh air to care about that. I frantically squirm out of the fighter and onto my hands and knees. The ground beneath me is grassy and wet and laced with mud, reminding me of Takodana and rain. A shame I’m about to ruin it.

 The vomit barrels from my stomach and throat and onto the ground all at once, not wasting any time. When I think it’s down, it pulls me back and forces me to give another lurch of my body. The acid makes my throat burn and sizzle, but it only lasts about a minute before I feel normal enough to attempt to stand.

 Now, I cover my eyes from the light. I can make out mountains in the distance and a cloudy gray sky with sun still peeking through. I can see the start of mechanical structures being made in the distance, waterfalls, giant statues and mountains. I’ve seen this view before. Zeffo.

 A sigh escapes my chest- a sigh of defeat. It seems like I’m just back where I’ve started. I might as well of never left Jakku. Like a continuous circle of nothing mattering and restraint. Have you ever felt that?

 I turn back to the fighter and climb back into the broken ship. I stand slowly, slightly weirded out by the view of the whole tie-fighter being on its side. I stagger, my weight making the thing lurch to the left until it is back in the upright position. Then, the only movements are my boots against broken glass and metal.

 “Garreth!” I whisper shout again. He still does not respond. I can see the back of him slumped over the side of the chair, still secured tightly with two seatbelts making an X across his chest. I unclick them from behind him and he moves slightly, but limply. Pressing my hand to his forehead and pulling it back a little, finding it sticky with both sweat and blood.

 He’s too heavy for me to carry on my shoulder or both hands, so I’m going to have to resort to the next best thing at the expense of grace and comfort for him.

 I grab his wrist and pull him from the chair, where he falls to the floor with a heavy thud, I drag him out of the fighter and to the ground. He is forced to go through the pile of my vomit a little, but I’m sure he won’t mind.

 Observing the man’s face, my eyebrows crease together. His blond hair is stuck to his forehead, mixing with the humid perspiration. Eyes closed, with dried blood smeared across his head, his chapped lips are paling.

 I try snapping in front of his face first. I get no response. Then I blow on his eyes. They flutter, the long, dark eyelashes twitching. Finally, I pull my left hand back. It comes down against his cheek, hard. There is no response.

 Garreth was dead.

 Well shit. No pilot, no ship, no medical supplies, Empire abound. I need to get out of sight as soon as I can. If I’m where I think I am, the village I used to stay at should be somewhere nearby, just to the South.

 I shove my hands in Garreth’s pockets, which is rather disrespectful if you think about it. But at the time, I didn’t care much at all. I knew I had to utilize everything I could possible utilize. I find nothing in the first pocket I search, but a little notebook in the second that I decide to be useful. If he kept dates or important notes related to the Empire in this thing, I could use it to my advantage.

 (That book would end up both ruining, and saving my life. Just, by the way.)

 But for the moment,  if there’s nothing of interest inside the book, I could always sell it for a good amount of money. I find nothing but lint in the other pockets. Instead, I settle to take his Imperial jacket and stuff my arms inside it, ripping the Empire Armband off the shoulder. I through the armband on the rocky ground, and shove the little black book in the pocket. Then I’m left to wonder what to do with his body.

 It seems wrong to just leave him here, even if we’d only known each other for a few hours tops. Besides, if I leave him here and the Empire is still active on this planet, they will surely find him and the wreckage and be forced to investigate. I can’t burn him- that would attract more attention and I don’t have the materials to start a fire. I could push him over the side of a cliff, but that still feels wrong. No way can I take him with me.

 Should I… eat him?

 Instead, I drag him back inside the cockpit and into the seat he previously sat in. I fasten both his seatbelts, and put his hands on the sticks as if he were steering. From there, I dab my fingers in the blood-filled wound on his forehead and drag them across his closed eyes. Every pilot needs their goggles, right?

 (I fucking hate myself.)

 I can only hope he enjoyed being a pilot and his corpse is comfortable. I leave the ship and use the force to send it off and over the edge of Zeffo.

 It skids along the mud, skimming my puke just a little. Pieces of the sides fall of with the movement and the whole thing makes a long, terrible noise of contempt and resistance. Still, whether it wants to or not, the Tie-Fighter slips over the edge of the mountain. A few moments later, I hear a crash that comes when metal combusts on impact. The Empire won’t find anything now.

 I start my hike to the South to find the little village I resided in when I was here last. There are no signs of other humanoid life so far, only aggressive creatures with horns on their heads that ignore me after I use to the force to push them away. The wind would be welcome if it didn’t prick at the corners of my eyes and make them burn with dryness and tears simultaneously. Over time, I feel my pack become heavier and heavier on my back, so I hold it by the straps in my left hand. Unfortunately, the path to the village is mostly hiking and climbing until I see the view I’m looking for.

 While I climb, my gloves slipped from the rocks easier than they latched, so I ended up tearing off the cloth that partially covered my fingers. Streaks of mud decorate my dark outfit and tunic, and pieces of my braid have fallen loose. It reminds me of Ilum and Bracca, but not at all enjoyable or relaxing.

 I need to get medical supplies fast, because the Empire isn’t my biggest problem anymore. Instead, I’m convinced the most pressing concern is the injuries to my stomach. There’s a large bruise spreading from the top of my left hip to over my ribs from when I was thrown to the ground on Jakku. It feels sore and tearing, almost like there’s a giant rip in the skin underneath that’s alarmingly pooling out blood.

 I reach another cliff to climb up, and put my hands on my hips to examine it. It’s not the tallest one I’ve come across today, which is a good thing. I think I’m getting close, at least.

 The sky has become even more gray and cloudy, and a single, fresh drop of water falls in the center of my forehead. Squinting slightly, I take a single finger and wipe the drop off. I don’t think it’s close to nightfall yet, but a rainstorm is not exactly a sign to stay outside. I should find shelter in a cave for the night- I know of a few. Either that, or continue on in the rain.

 I step forward to the cliff and position my right foot on a rock not too far from the ground, my left hand following suit. My other limbs follow, and I begin to climb. I make 3 movements towards the top when I scratch my right knee on a jutted rock.

 It tears through both the fabric of my trousers, and my skin, which immediately begins to sting. I hiss out a curse and glance down at it through the rain. I can see just enough to notice the bright red gash that falls in streaks down my leg with the rain.

 Why me? Why has this been the worst twenty-four hours of my life? I don’t recall doing anything to upset the Force- although perhaps that’s where I’ve gone wrong.

 I push myself back to the ground, luckily not being too far from it. The rain is pouring down harder now, and my knee is burning. Shelter it is.

 I look around the cliff, trying to remember if I saw any caves or alcoves from the route I came from. Nothing comes to mind, but further down the way and to the left of the cliff looks like a rocky tunnel. I decide to take my chances there.

 My left leg moves alright, but stretching my right gives off too much pain. I have to bend it slightly- limp all the way over to the tunnel, which makes me feel somewhat pathetic, no matter how much it’s needed for my health. Inside, it smells like rainwater and a little bit of oil, but it becomes too dark to see anything. I opt to grab the lightsaber, flip the switch and watch the green beam extend in front of me. It gives off enough light for me to navigate a few feet ahead if I squint.

 The ground is flat for a while, but after a while I can feel it begin to slope downward. This could mean many things.

 One: I am walking into the lair of a monster that will eat me. Two: Someone at some point dug this cave and it’s taking me someplace underground. Or three: I am perhaps losing my mind over lack of sleep, dehydration and hunger, lack of medical supplies, and blood loss. This is the most realistic option.

 I can still hear the rainstorm from behind me, at the front of the cave, meaning it’s not too late for me to turn around and rest for a bit until the storm clears near the entrance. However, following the path through the cave and the underground will no doubt take me some place interesting and possibly more secure than the entrance. Maybe it could even be a short cut. I’ve never been one to shy away from a risk. Especially when it could mean life or death.

 I like taking chances that I might lose. Love it, in fact. Jumping from cliffs, not thinking before cutting a wire… I like being so close to death. I think that maybe I really want to die, even when I’m running from it. Either way you interpret what I just said, I still come off as a selfish person. I won’t deny that, anymore.

 The rocks and dirt under my boots crackle under my limp. As I continue my descent into the unknown with only the green lightsaber to guide me, I can’t help but notice how the smell of oil is only becoming more and more potent.

 My brows knittogether in confusion for a moment, as I try my best to think of reasons why there would be oil underground. I’m starting to really suspect that my second guess for what this is cave was used for was correct, and that someone did dig this place out. If this is the case, it could very well mean the Empire. If it’s the Empire, I could very well mean I’m completely screwed. And I’m not exactly combat ready now. If it is the Empire and I can’t sneak around them, my only other option is relying on the force and careful blocks from the  saber.

The crackling noise under my boots shifts to a clang, clang, clang, like metal. Now, I’m not so much as heading down a slope as walking down some metal stairs. Maybe I should’ve turned around when I had the chance. I try to quiet the echoing noises as I go, but it’s not so easy with a limp that forces me to do a bit of a jump.

 Something in my stomach stirs- and no, it’s not my blood. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, I keep my left foot from hitting the next step. Someone is down here.

 The questions that matter here include: Is this person friend or foe, and does it matter? Can they sense me too? And most importantly: Do they have medical supplies?

 I lean forward a bit, stretching my right arm out with the lightsaber to see ahead a little farther. I press my left hand against the wall for balance and try to act like the action didn’t just make me a little woozy. With the light emitting from the sword I can see a little box connected to some wires heading up the rock walls. My right-hand leans forward to feel it for a small button, which I quickly find.

 The space ahead of me lights up, one section at a time. It lights up so brightly, I have to shut my eyes tight to slow the dull pain that comes from being in the dark for so long.  When I peel them open, I can see that yes, the Empire has been here.

 The floor below is made entirely of metal, and to the right side of the room is several tall metal shelves reaching the cave ceiling. To the left is an empty hole that leads nowhere but certain death. The Empire certainly does know how to pick the most… optimal locations, I suppose. Straight ahead of me is a door branding the Empirical Symbol that leads to another section- probably the one where I sensed life.

 I decide the best thing to do is be as quiet as possible to not alert them of my presence while I search the shelves to the right. I shut my lightsaber off, silently willing the door doesn’t open and catch me red handed as I quickly limp over to the shelves.

 A few sections are what I recognize to be storage for virtual secrets. I decide I’ll circle back around to them if I have time. Farther along the way are some neatly kept binders I know better than to even dare touching- I decide to put them off for a while too. Beside those are a few boxes on the top shelves, a rack of rifles on the middle shelves, and SCORE! Multiple boxes labeled MEDICAL SUPPLIES near the bottom.

 Despite how unlucky my day is, this sure is my lucky day. I crouch down, sling my backpack over my shoulder and open it.

 Luckily, I realize Garreth’s Imperial jacket could buy me some time. I’ll just say I’m a new initiate who got lost. I undo the latches on the first batch of supplies and find exactly what I was looking for! Glowing green cannisters called Healing Stims, gauze, a few ointments I’ve never heard of, cleaning cloths, and what I think is disinfectant.

 First thing I do is grab a healing stim, blink a few times to make sure that it’s really what I’m seeing and not a trick of my own mind, and hold it to my abdomen. Then I press down on the top like a syringe.

 It feels like pressure from any shot, but I can feel my body relaxing as the bruising pain in the area seems to evaporate with the pressure. Pulling my vest and undershirt up, I can see that the giant bruise from my hip to my ribs is fading already. I wonder what to do with the empty stim, and decide to simply throw it back in their box, just so they know someone has been through here and openly disrespecting them. I take out another stim and push it just above the cut on my left knee and ignore the stinging. I put the empty stim back in the box again, and trade it for a cleaning cloth, which I use to take away some of both the dried and fresh blood.

 In a matter of seconds, the large open wound fades to a large, white scar on my knee. It becomes nothing more than some injury I sustained as a child. I let my face relax a little at the small victory. Then I grab some of the gauze and wrap it around the knee, just in case I need some help after limping around for so long, and put the rest of the supplies in my bag. It’s all so small, it barely takes up any space inside.

 I doubt they keep food on these shelves, but maybe there’s some water cannisters. Worth a look right? I stand up, ever so happy I don’t feel the need to limp anymore and my stomach doesn’t howl in pain, and turn to the next shelf. Unfortunately, it’s more or less the same thing, but I take more medical supplies anyway.

 “I don’t see why we need to have this conversation again.”

 Uh-Oh.

 The voice comes from behind the door, but still fairly close. They’ll open it in a few seconds, and I’ll have little to no cover behind shelves that you can see through. I can hear their footsteps come closer and I start to think of some way to get out of this.          

 “You failed me apprentice.”

 “Master, I… the Jedi was too quick. I underestimated him.”

 Kriff.

 “Yes, you did,” the first voice seethes. It’s a man’s voice I think. It sounds raspy and gravelly like it comes from the back of his throat, but still a little young.

 From behind the door, I hear the familiar buzz of a lightsaber turning on, a quick sob and a louder buzz to indicate movement on the weapons part. A few seconds go by- I’m holding my breath. Then, the voice croaks, “Dispose of the body.”

 The door opens and my stomach panics, forcing me to quickly run and duck behind the last set of shelves. Shit, shit, shit- I’m so fucking screwed now.

 Still holding my breath and ignoring my hammering heart, I decide to get a look of who I need to get past this time. I peak my head over the shelf and the first thing I notice is the long, blood red lightsaber held in the man’s hand.

 The man holding the red lightsaber has a lanky, thin build- clad in dark armor with the emblem of the Empire stamped onto his shoulder gear. He dawns a helmet that reminds me a little of a shape of a leaf, and split into multiple layers for him to see out of. With his lack of gloves, I notice his skin is a blue-grey hue. His whole look is made to strike fear into his enemies and subordinates.

 Before he gets a chance to look my way, I turn back around and try to formulate a plan. I really don’t want to fight this guy, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to just sneak out of here without a fight. He looks powerful, and maybe a Sith.

 “Yes, Eighth Brother,” a clone- Stormtrooper- says behind him. He and the Stormtrooper next to him give a silent nod and begin picking up the limp body of some kind of apprentice.

 Do the Sith really kill their own? I suppose that makes another difference between them and the Jedi. The Jedi are more united and tranquil with each other, while Sith make work together but merely tolerate. If given the opportunity to kill for their benefit, they would. I’m not sure I blame them. It’s not like the Jedi would never do such a thing.

 In dire circumstances, anybody, no matter how good, can resort to ‘terrible’ things. I wonder if this Eighth Brother was once a ‘good’ person… I bet he was.

 If I’m lucky, he’s just passing through and he’ll be gone momentarily. Maker, how foolish of me to have thought that I could escape this without such a problem. It’s my own damned fault.

 The, the air around me feels suddenly very still and stale and cold, like someone has frozen time and focused on me. He’s looking over here. He knows I’m here.

 My breath hitches in my throat, and my mouth becomes rather dry. Moving will draw more attention to me, so I can’t exactly escape now. I’m even more screwed than I was earlier, if that’s possible. Luckily, something stops my being screwed.

 It’s another presence- by the stairs I entered through. Did someone follow me? No, I would’ve known. So, who is this person, then?

 I hear the buzz of a lightsaber springing to life, and now I have to get a look at this stranger. It seems the Eighth Brother is distracted by this person too, because the air around me becomes less tense and more breathable. While his attention is turned, I do the same. Scooting to the other end of the shelf, I peek my head around the corner once more to observe this person.

 The intruder is another man with a stockier build than the Brother, and long, sandy-brownish-reddish hair tucked back in a series of buns going down the back of his head. His jaw is a bit unshaven and rugged, with tattoos in elegant black lines crawling up his neck and peaking over his light-colored robes. In his outstretched hand, the lightsaber is clunky and entirely made of rusty metal. The weapon itself is a deep shade of blue, contrasting the red weapon held across the room from him. His eyes are laced with determination and preparedness for a fight, his rather bushy eyebrows knitted together.

 It seems this Jedi hasn’t sensed my presence at all. In my head, on a not so serious note, I can’t help but think about how relieved I am to have a Jedi Council moral freak not know of my existence.

 “It’s over,” the Jedi says in a gruff voice. “Stop this immediately.”

 “Stop this… immediately?” The darkly dressed man cockily repeats with a little scoff. “Stop what?”

 “This oppressive Empire has gone on long enough. Your excavation efforts on this planet will come to a stop, your crimes against the Jedi will come to a stop-” the Jedi raises his lightsaber to be level with his eyes, which narrow in aggression, “-you will be stopped, by any means necessary.”

 Is this Jedi threatening death? How very… Jedi of him. It takes nearly all of my power not to reveal myself from hiding and very sarcastically yell that out. It also takes nearly all my power to keep myself from laughing in this very serious moment.

 I might be really losing it, if I ever actually had it.

 “Is that a threat, Jedi?” The Sith seethed, last word dripping with poison.

 “The only threat here is you, Inquisitor.” The Jedi takes a fighting stance I recognize but cannot name, and the ‘Inquisitor’ bends his back leg and raises his saber slightly in response. If I were him, I would smirk behind that uniquely shape mask- something tells me he is.

 “If you want to stop me, come and try,” he counters. And then I decide that I like the Eighth Brother way more than this rogue Jedi.

 The auburn haired man lets loose a battle cry, and then the next second is filled only with the sounds of feet hitting the metal paneling of the floor, the buzzes of lightsabers, and the stressful wait that comes from it. Then the two lightsabers clash together, and I am both blinded and deafened.

 Peaking my head around the corner again, I can see the Inquisitor takes defense while the Jedi goes on the offensive, the spot where their swords meet nothing but a shining dot of white. Blue and red, light and dark, Jedi and Sith. What are the chances of me kriffing sneaking out of here now?

 I whip my head back around, trying to formulate a plan while they hash it out. Perhaps I could bring down a rock from the ceiling and crush them both? No, then the whole cave would come down around me and I’m not so certain I have the Force capability to hold all that off. Throwing heavy things at them would work, if it didn’t pose the risk of one of them catching it and being made hyper aware of my presence.

 Then I wonder if I made myself fully known to them if they would stop fighting and temporarily ally to beat their common enemy. I have no allegiance to either the Jedi, the Republic, the Council, the Sith, the Empire, or the Dark Side. Would it truly take a threat to both of them to stop their fighting? Maker, the both of them are so ridiculous.

 The repeated sparks from sabers meeting aggressively stop. “You are a foolish Jedi- I have enjoyed hunting you down.”

 Yep. The Jedi is foolish.

 “Did your apprentice?” The Jedi quips. “Did you kill her?”

 “She was waste. Not as promising as others present.”

 Don’t you fucking dare be talking about me Inquisitor. I will lose my god damn mind- for real this time- if I have to go through one more ridiculous trial today. That’s a promise. I swear on the Force and whatever gods exist in every system.

 “I suppose I should be flattered?”

 “On the contrary,” the Inquisitor drawls. “It wasn’t for you, Jedi. Your devotion to the Light side has made you blind to the state of things.”

 “And I suppose the Dark side is different?” I can hear the Inquisitor sigh through his mask. I would sigh myself if I were out of the way of danger.

 There is power in the Dark side. I truly believe any force user is capable of harnessing that power without succumbing to it. Even if they did ‘succumb’ to it, would that truly be so terrible? I know about the draw backs, of course I do. But it is tempting every force user, day in and day out. The powers it wields are far stronger than any monk like faith the Light side promises.

 “You have been blinded to the world- to the people who care about you!”

 That’s probably why he turned to the Dark side to begin with: nobody cared enough to watch and catch his descent before it spiraled out of control.

 “I will not allow you or the Empire to cause suffering anymore.” I can see the Jedi raise his left hand upwards, his gaze shifting to the cave ceiling above. “I will free you.”

 He intends to bring the whole thing down! No! The Inquisitor looks upward as well, and I can feel the disturbance bubbling inside him as too. The Jedi brings his hand down, and the whole cave shakes.

 Without thinking, abandoning almost every value I have, I jump out from my hiding and sprint near the Inquisitor, throwing my hands in the air and feeling the weight of the cave. I half expect everything to fall upon me anyway, but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s just heavy and silent.

 The rocks would’ve fallen and crushed all of us. Don’t get it wrong by the way- I’m not doing this to save them. There’s just no kriffing way I’m going to die curled up in some ball because an idiot Jedi went to extreme means to conquer some random guy. While it is probably the only time I’ve kind of liked a Jedi, I like my own life even more. I’m just looking out for number one.

 When I open my eyes, the Jedi is staring at me, eyes wide and baffled. Above me, light from the sun peaks through the new hole, along with drizzles from the rain which apparently hasn’t stopped. The biggest rocks spins slightly, and when I lose just the tiniest bit of concentration, it sputters a little in the air as a warning. The rest of them just hang in the air one by one.

 “I told you so,” the Inquisitor seethes. I hear his lightsaber become sheathed within itself and some footsteps. “A visitor.”

 “Are you a Jedi?” The man in front of me calls out, his blue lightsaber still out and alive. I don’t answer him, just meet his eyes and try not to buckle under the weight of the force above me. “A padawan?”

 The reinforcements arrived in multiple ships just big enough to fit one person each. It was pretty clear they were designed for epic battles in the air instead of shooting down one specific target on a rotten sand planet. However, they decided on the latter.

 I recognize the model right away. On Bracca, most of the pieces we took apart went right back into making the Tie-Fighters. I wonder if one of the three that comes my way is a ship that I helped put together. Wouldn’t that be… well, it wouldn’t be funny. Now that I think about it.

 I can’t see them in the night of Jakku, but I can hear them. They fly with sounds of electricity and musical whirs that I actually rather enjoy. The irony.

 So, as I listen to the oncoming ships screaming at me, realize the definite internal bleeding in my stomach, and come to the conclusion that one of the muscles in my leg is on fire, I know I need to run the other way. Perhaps I can lose them in the sand and find a ship port. From there I can steal a ship and go somewhere even deeper in the middle of nowhere.

 I turn on my heel and sprint as fast as I can through the earth, the lightsaber in my hand humming with every movement. There’s no point in turning the green beacon off, I know full well they can see me in the dark with the fancy equipment in their ships. If they’re going to shoot at me- which they’re about to do, of course- I need to have my weapon at the ready.

 Maybe I can hide in the old Republic Ship? No, no I won’t make it. I need the sand dunes for cover.

 I can hear the ships come closer behind me. Craning my head over my shoulder while running, I can see the ships not only look like sideways 8’s, but have formed a sort of arrow- the one in the middle being the closest to me. I can make out three total, one on each side.

 Oh Maker, my stomach is in so much pain. If I make it out of this (don’t worry, I do) I will never hurt my stomach again (promise broken).

 I feel the middle fighter fire shots at me before they even emerge. Instinctively, I duck my head with panic as if that will do something. The whirring whiz of blasters come out in green streaks that hits the sand beside me.

 While the first initial shots may miss me, they continue to come out rapidly and too quickly enough for me to totally evade. They’re getting closer and closer- far too close for my liking. Note to self- the Empire’s ships focus on fast paced shots rather than accuracy. Their weapons must be automatic instead of semi-automatic as well.

 Turning my whole body but still moving slightly backwards, I raise my lightsaber in front of my face. The shots reflect off it and after 3 are bounced off, they catch the ship back and one of the ‘wings’ erupts into flames. It knocks into the sand and rolls along the ground, barely missing crashing against the fighter to the left of it.

 I turn my attention to the continuation of sprinting away from my immediate death. Although I’ve just taken one out, the treat feels so much more real than it did before. Luckily, there’s a steep dip in the waves of sand that I can slide down and lose the remaining Tie-Fighters in for a moment. Indeed, after I slip downhill, they whiz past me about two seconds later. They’ll turn around momentarily I’m sure, and when they do I need to be out of the low ground.

 I bend my knees and spring into the air, flipping until my toes land in the sand above. One of the fighters has circled around in the sky- it shoots at me from above. I raise the saber again, angling it with my shoulders tensed. I manage to block the first shots and they reflect back to the ship, hitting it pretty cleanly. Flames erupt again from the side and a trail of smoke falls behind the decaying flight of the fighter. I’m proud of myself for a moment.

 It seems, however, that the pilot is still very much alive and intends to take me out with him. The ship begins to come down- aimed at me. I swear I can see the pilot inside tear off his oxygen mask and smirk.

 I hold the hand with my lightsaber out, effectively stopping the ship mid-flight. (It feels good to not have to think about my powers to be able to use them.) Inside, the pilot jolts around a little and a spark goes off. Good. Asshole has this coming. I consider throwing it at the other fighter, but instead I realize that maybe I can save that ship and use it to get out of here. Meanwhile, I’ll slam my hand down and the Force will cause the ship I hold to dive straight into the dunes below so I can be done with it.

 It makes the sand beneath it jump up like a volcano eruption that showers the air. Now all I need to do is find the other fighter and try to keep the damage to a minimum.

 It blends in with the black sky, but after a few squints of my eyes I can see two red dots blinking and the covering up of stars in a ship shaped curtain. I turn my hand to it, and I’m met with some resistance. I can feel more beads of sweat growing along my hairline and slipping down my jaw. Why is this fighter so heavy? It must be the fatigue getting to me. Like I’m all “Forced out” or something.

 I decide I need another hand and seal off my lightsaber for full attention. After a few seconds of concentration and near grunting on my part, the ship comes over to me and falls in the in front of me, neither on fire nor destroyed. I can see the pilot throw off his mask and open the hatch above him to get out.

 As he climbs up, I pull him over to me. My head is down, sweat beading my face as my chest heaves and I struggle for one single flat breath. He flies closer, fear in his eyes and his Imperial boots leaving a trail in the golden dunes. I ignite my lightsaber and push it into his chest. He falls off of the end and lies dead on the sand.

 Again, it feels so good. It feels… cathartic, kind of. Like maybe killing is my own form of letting things out. Like I deserve it. But the more I kill, the worse I feel inside. The worse I feel inside, the more neutral I become. And the more neutral I become… the farther I skew to the Dark side.    

 It’s done then.

 I seal off my lightsaber and the buzzing stops, so I am left alone with no other sounds than the wind and a distant cricket. With time to spare, I grip my stomach and double over in pain. Gods- fuck it hurts. I should’ve brought a pack of healing stims or first aid at least in my bag, but I figured we wouldn’t need it. Fuck me.

 Part one of the plan: search the pilots or fighters for medical supplies if they haven’t burned away already.

 Part two: find or stop at a planet that does have medical supplies.

 Part three: avoid all planets and people for the rest of my life. Easy enough.

 I decide to start my search in the ship that’s my ticket out of here. I walk over to it with a bit of a limp and a hand covering my stomach, then climb to the top where I drop in the little circular door. The inside is small and completely gray, with one chair and the whole front as the console, which contains buttons of all kinds. Some are blue that fade to green, others are red and blinking. There’s a small screen slightly to the left that flashes red and says “Warning: System Compromised” and beeps. I press the only button attached and it shuts off and stops making the annoying noise. This thing looks more complicated to fly than I expected. On top of that, there are no signs of medicinal supplies. Of course- why would there be?

 With a sigh, I climb out, standing on the top to gather my surroundings for a moment. I can see the fighter than I brought down a few meters from the one I stand on now. Through the window, I can see the pilot that tried to take me down with him bang on the window and push buttons frantically. I know what I’m thinking may seem like a bad idea, but hear me out.

 I hop down from my last hope and put the lightsaber back on the belt. Walking through the sand, I figure I have time to get over there before the fighter explodes. I think I’ll take my sweet time, in fact. The flames at the side seem to have died down already. All I can do is hope that the pilot inside is more loyal to the offer of life than the Empire.

 He sees me approaching and slows his attempts to open the hatch or bang on the window.

 “Hello there,” I say, waving my left hand a bit. He narrows his eyes at me.

 I can see he wears all black clothing under his seatbelt, with the design of the Empire on his shoulder. On the floor under his seat is an all-black helmet, similar to the Clones, though it seems they made a few modifications since three years ago. The pilot is a human, fairly young but older than me. His skin is a little dirty from the smoke and the crash, but he appears pale with a few freckles. His hair is a sandy shade of blonde that was once slicked back, but since fallen in front of his face and become stringy and messy. Not so unattractive, now that he’s defenseless against me.

 “What do you want?” he says. I think he says, at least. I can’t hear him through the glass, but I can see the way his mouth moves and guess.

 “You want out of there?” I begin. “You certainly look like you do.”

 He narrows his eyes again, opens his mouth to speak- but I cut him off. “I’m going to let you out of there, and I fully expect you to try to kill me.”

 “I aim to please,” I see him say.

 "Alright, just keep your head down for a minute.” I jump up to the front and see that a piece of shrapnel is keeping it from opening. I can’t move it myself, but instead I take the opportunity to remind him of who has the lightsaber here and who doesn’t. Taking the weapon from my belt, I plunge the green beam of light into and around the hatch and drag it in a circle. When it’s about to fall on him, I hold it in its place with the force and make it fly off into the sand somewhere. Now I can see him from above.

 The pilot coughs a bit and I realize his seat belt must be jammed as well. I slip next to him and cut off where the clips on either side of the chair are. Before he can grab his gun-which he clearly will, I am in front of the chair and holding the end of my blade to his neck, the reverse grip allowing me to bring it closer to his skin. He sinks farther into his chair, glaring up at me in a way I rather enjoy.

 I’m glad he hates me.  

 “I’m not going to kill you,” I start, slowly, “If you agree to be of use to me.”

 “And why would I do that?” the pilot says bitterly, not daring to break eye contact. You know, I think I really like him. He’s spiteful. I can see his eyes are such a warm shade of brown they might as well be red, or honey.

 “Because it’ll benefit the both of us,” I finish, noticing the look of interest in his eye. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about manipulating people, always begin with something that’s in their best personal interest.

 “I’m listening.”

 “Your plan, if you get out of here is probably to kill me or head to the nearest cantina right?” I say, making sure my voice is steady and strong. I know how to threaten people, because I’ve seen Mur and Talik do it multiple times. “Well, surely a bright guy like you would understand that the Empire will kill you for either your failure or your desertion.” His jaw tightens a little, and I know I must be right about some part.

 “Help me fly that ship out of there, and we’ll find a planet far away from the Empire. If you want, you can leave after that. I just need someone to get me out of here- all this shit looks too complicated for me to fly.”

 He looks a little amused by that. “In return, I won’t kill you, and I won’t anonymously inform the Empire that I saw a fighter go down and a survivor disappear in the night on Jakku.” His jaw tightens a little more, his eyes meeting mine with both interest in hate. “Do we have a deal?”

 I take his guns and throw them into the sand when we jump from the fighter. After, I’m sure to pat him down and take his knife for my own. So he doesn’t try anything funny while we walk, I make him walk in front of me, and hold my fingers out to choke him a bit. Not enough to impede his walking capability, but just enough to keep him from speaking or doing anything but move forward. He climbs into the pod without a fight, and I tell him to sit in the chair.

 “There’s another chair in here, you know,” he says as if it were obvious.

 “Is it fucking invisible then?” I counter. I don’t mean to lose my cool for the moment, but It’s been a long day and I’m slowly starting to think it’s not even real at this point.

 Scowling at me for a moment, the pilot hits a button on the console and a chair emerges from the floor, back to back with the other. “I thought force users are supposed to be geniuses,” he says, spinning his chair around and knocking into mine a bit. Admittedly, I didn’t know these chairs could spin at all.

 “Right, because the man who was taken down by a teenager and couldn’t figure out how to get out of his seat belt is a genius.”

 Anger flashes in his eyes for the millionth time and he leans back a little. “Look I don’t know why I’m after you and honestly, I don’t care. But you need me to get out of here so don’t act like you’re better than me.”

 “I don’t have to be better than you,” I tell him, not daring to look away from his eyes. “I just have to be better than death.”

 “You’re a fucking Jedi- all you do is think about how you’re better than everyone else,” he says with a quiet loathing, and he turns his chair back to the console and presses a button to close the escape hatch.

 I can’t help the slow spread of upturned lips that washes over my face. Out here, it’s not uncommon to find people who are against the Jedi and the old Republic. I mean, it’s not like public opinion was really on their side towards the end, but it was always at an all-time low for the outer rim planets.  

 This pilot isn’t wrong at all- that’s one of my problems with the Jedi. I hated that they were too good to come and have me as part of their order. I resent it to this very day. I also resent that if they had found out about me on Ilum or Coruscant, they would’ve taken me away from my life there and turned made me change how I survive to fit what they believe.

 They stand for peace, but peace is not always the way. Somehow, they make it work in their brains that because they are doing the right thing, they can trample on whoever they want to. They just ignore that they do and how corrupt they truly were.

 “What’s your name?” I say as I hear the thrusters power on and a green light blink on above us.

 “Garreth,” he says after a minute.

 “That’s not a clone name,” I say, because I was truly under the impression that the Empire continued using the Clones with the new age of troopers.

 “How observant of you,” he quips. “And nobody calls them Clones anymore.”

 I scoff a little, leaning back into the seat. It’s comfortable, supporting the lower end of my back that has oh so many knots in it. “It’s Stormtroopers, right?”

 “Oh yeah,” Garreth says with an equal amount of snark. He chuckles a little. “Stormtroopers.”

 I frown a little and nod. In my head, I’m thinking about how badass the name ‘Stormtrooper’ is. I know I shouldn’t, considering a bunch of them literally just tried to kill me and my friends. But seriously, I like it. Though, I could do without the new armor they’re given. I liked the Clone outfits better.

 Clones.

 “Nice name, right?” Garreth says as he reaches up and flicks a little switch.

 I don’t say anything back, because now I want to talk even less than usual.

 The ship rises into the air smoothly, I shuffle and squirm a bit in my seat. Spinning it around to face the back of his chair and lean a little to my right, the whole chair moves to the side in one fluid motion. It seems the whole cockpit was designed for making the pilot fire more accurately and quickly. I suppose to Empire isn’t all brawns over brains. I can respect that. I can respect that way more than I respected the Jedi.

 But the spinning makes me sick to my stomach, and not because of how fragile my stomach is at the moment. It’s because spinning is a very childish thing to do, and Talik liked to do it to me and then make me do it to her.

          Garreth’s gloved hands wrap around a stick from the console and push it forward, and with a little jump we surge into space and leave Jakku behind. I don’t even bother to watch the flames of my old crew slowly fade away. It’s already burned into my brain forever and ever.

 Garreth has been silent beside me for a while now, continuously pressing buttons and moving the stick forward. He makes no attempt to contact the Empire and alert them of what’s happening, so it seems I was correct about where his loyalties lie. Not with me- but with the possibility of life. I can sense no anguish or internal conflicts within him, and his demeanor remains cool as a reflection of that.

 “What’s your name anyway?”

 I turn to look at him, my face my normal mask of blankness. I’m slightly annoyed that he’s now commanded my attention away from the stars and the pieces of junk we fly past, even though it’s not Garreth’s fault at all and I’m just a bitch.

 On the ship with my crew, I tended to stay out of the cockpit and in my own little workspace, either in my room or beside Talik, who played games with Kip. I guess I never really had much of a chance to take in the stars then. Funny that now that I do, it’s in the worst of circumstances.

 “You asked my name- now I’m asking yours.”

 I hate telling people my name. No, actually, I hate people in general. “It’s Keres,” I say coldly, turning back to the inky blackness of space and the little white freckles we call stars.  

 Garreth gives me a side eye and a little smirk. “Just Keres? Not Keres the Great or Keres the Wise or anything? Not even a last name?”

 “Now that you mention it, some people do like to refer to me as their lord and savior, sometimes Keres the All Mighty,” I say with a little bit of boredom. My right pointer finger traces around a square button lazily. I both love, and hate sitting still. Being in a cramped ship like this one is a bit of a curse in my book.

 Garreth snickers a little at my words, spinning his chair to the right to face mine. “Well Keres the All Mighty, what planet did you have in mind to escape to?”

 Ah shit, I didn’t plan this far.

 “You’re with the Empire. Any planets they haven’t been to yet?” I say, turning back to him. The light catches his irises and they flash a pretty gold color, though only for a moment.

 This makes the pilot stop and think. I can see the gears turning in his head. “Dagobah, Kijimi, maybe.”

 “What’s on Dagobah?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of it.”

 He twiddles his thumbs together and uses his toes to swing the seat back and forth slightly. “Well, for a force user such as yourself, it’s probably the best place to go. Empire doesn’t know about it and the Force is supposed to be strong there. However, I wouldn’t make it. It’s not exactly good for flying and surviving long term. Kijimi is the better option. Tons of illegal work to do, tons of people- better long term… or, longer term, I guess.”

 It’s hard not to tell him that I don’t really care what happens to him. I’m fine with going to Dagobah and immediately leaving him to die. More than fine with it, actually.

 I’ve heard of Kijimi. A few old petty criminals mentioned it on Bracca. Talik was there for a while too. “Kijime will do fine.”

 Garreth turns to the console again and presses more buttons, which whir and bleep and turn blue.

 “So, I have to ask- what’s your deal with the Jedi?”

 I’m taken aback at this. “My deal with the Jedi?”

 He rolls his eyes and smoothly puts us into hyperspace. “Are you actually one of them? We’ve got a few force users at our base who definitely weren’t, and I’ve never come across a Jedi that doesn’t speak in riddles.”

 “Give it time,” I reply, feeling his anger bubble slightly at my lack of cooperation. Maker, making people angry and uncomfortable brings me so much satisfaction.

 A beeping goes off suddenly. A screen that was previously off has now turned red and flashing with danger. I jolt forward and grip onto the edge of the console for balance. “Garreth?” I hiss.

 “Fuck if I know!” Garreth seethes back, pressing a button which raises two sticks and triggers. The screen previously flashing red moves to the front of him and now shows him an image I only get a brief glance of before he pushes my chair away from his. “Stay back there!”

 Garreth squeezes the triggers at something I can only guess at based on the sound it makes as it flies. It sounds like another Tie-Fighter. The ship bumps around violently, and with no seatbelt I resort to gripping my hands underneath the chair.

 “Ah, kriff.”

 BANG- our tiny Tie-Fighter is colliding with another and knocked out of hyperspace. We spin around and around, faster and faster until I lose my grip and fly to the ceiling. My back hits it flatly and sorely, the blades of my shoulders screaming and agony as I grunt.

 Garreth looks over his shoulder at me for a second before turning back to the console, which is beeping with more and more immediate warnings. I hit my head against the metal overhead and my vision goes blurry for a moment, then I am sent back towards the floor. This doesn’t help my stomach much at all, and I hear a sickening crack. Instinctively, my gloved palms fly to my head in any attempt to cover it, as if that will do something.

 Another hit sends sparks flying from above, and the screen flickers off. As our ship barrels in total darkness, Garreth lurches forward and smacks his head against the console. I am left in complete darkness, silence, and with the urge to vomit as I am tossed around.

I’m aware of a few things before my eyes open again. One, that sleeping while on glitteryll will give you some wacky sleep visions. Currently, I can see flashing colors and easily trick myself into thinking someone is laughing at me. The second thing is that it doesn’t smell like the inside of Hondo’s ship anymore.

It smells like petrichor, and salt water on rock. I’ve traveled to enough planets on jobs to know the smell. I can hear dripping, and almost feel the familiar prick of the drip as it combusts against something. When I shift my knees I’m quick to identify what I’m up against, and then I shoot up immediately.

The joints in my back and shoulders pop an excessive amount, but I don’t care. I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I’m not in the ship I stole. I’m not even in space anymore.

I can’t see much in the darkness. When I squint, I can just make out the shape of things. I can see the edges of rock walls that stretch over my head, paired with the roughness of the ground beneath me. I’m in a cave of some kind. It’s long enough for me to pace around in, but not enough to hide in.

Turning my head, I can see that to my left is a door. It’s barred like a cell, allowing the slightest bit of light to seep through the gaps. I can see more cave structures outside, but no exit of any kind. There are a few other cells like mine across the way, though I can’t much see inside them.

I push myself from the floor and surge to the cell door. Both my hands grasp around the bars. I can see the dirt and mud and grime caked on my fingers and under my nails, but I don’t care. My chest rises up and down as I desperately try to get a glimpse of my surroundings. I don’t like being caged. I’ve never liked being caged.

The view from being pressed against the bars isn’t much different than before. There’s not a lot of light, and the wall is dank and made of rocks. I must be underground. It would explain the staleness in the air. On the other hand, it doesn’t explain where I am underground exactly, so the information is near useless.

I take a quick step back, dropping my hands to my lightsabers. That’s when I discover that they’re not there. My palms pass over the area like ghosts, leading me to look down to confirm my fear. I know better than to frantically pat around my belt. Panicking will do nothing to help my situation.

Garreth’s jacket isn’t on my person anymore either. Neither is his notebook. My stims, food, knife- all gone.    

Think, Keres. Who could’ve done this? I remember hitting my head on Hondo’s ship. I must’ve fallen unconscious. Damn it. That means it’s my own fault for leaving myself vulnerable in the first kriffing place. And I left all the glitteryll behind too!

The Empire? No. They wouldn’t operate underground, right? Well, they did on Zeffo. The Empire couldn’t have been tracking me… could they? I would’ve sensed it.

Who else have I pissed off that’s big enough to do this? The Scrappers guild maybe. They’ve never really hunted anyone down before. I’d be the first. No, it couldn’t be them.

A tension headache blooms in my forehead. I shake it away quickly, making me dizzy from all the glitteryll wearing off.

Well, I thought. I’m not going anywhere. Might as well sit down for a moment.

And then I did. The floor of dirt and rock and mud is damp against my trousers, but I don’t notice it much. My boots are still flecked with the white sand of Seelos and the lousy mud of Zeffo. The mud where I found that dead girl, to be precise.

I’m not really one for sentimental value. I can’t think of anything I own that I actually care enough about to risk my life for, or even really care enough to have. But the thought that maybe these boots are the closest thing I have to something like that is beginning to poke my mind.

These stupid boots have been with me this whole time. They’re the same boots I thought I was just wearing for a job. Instead, they’re the ones that I wore fighting an Imperial Inquisitor. Instead, they’re the ones I snuck out of a house in. Instead, they’re the ones I wore facing clones for the first time in three years. Instead, they’re the ones I wore nearly overdosing on glitteryll. These shoes don’t just hold my feet, toes, and ankles. They hold all the memories I’ve collected as well.

It doesn’t take long for my ridiculous thoughts to ask me if these boots are the closest thing I’ve had to a family. But then I think of Jarvers being engulfed in flames, and I quickly twitch in an attempt to shake the memory away.

Gods, Maker- whatever higher power- I know I’ve been bantha fodder my whole life, but please don’t let me die like this. I know I’ve stolen money from people in poverty and defaced religious statues and letsomeone take drugs I knew was laced, but please, I just don’t want it to end in a cage like this. If you can hear me, just do this for me.

The higher power must’ve heard me, because I didn’t die in that cell. They just made a compromise with me. I guess I’m lucky it held up though.

Pushing myself from the floor, I narrow my eyes at the exit. There’s no other way out of here. I could blow the door straight from it’s hinges, but that doesn’t seem smart. I should find my way out of here through sneaking instead of being brash headed. That wouldn’t help anything.

I crawl over to the bars. Mud sinks between my fingers and attaches itself underneath my nails, but I don’t care enough to notice. Once by the door, I press my face between bars. They feel cool against my cheeks and temples. My eyes flit around for anything I can use to pick the lock outside.

On the other end of the hallway, just to the side of another barred cell, is a long, jagged rock. It looks a bit shiny from drips falling on it, but it’s skinny. It’ll do.

My left hand reaches out past my door, stretching out. Immediately, my knees buckle under me and my head grows warm and foggy. I’m dizzy. Dizzy and weak. I pull my hand back with a bit of confusion, trying to shake away the warm cloud that brews in my skull.

Come on, Keres. We don’t have time for this.

Stretching my fingers out again, I concentrate on the rock. I want it here. I think about how it is a natural part of nature, and how nature bends to my will with enough respect on my part. After a minute, the rock twitches into the air and hovers over to my slowly. Pulling, pulling… got it.

As soon as it lands in my hand, my head buzzes with pain. It’s not striking or sharp, but slow and dull. Like a hum, almost. I should try not to use the Force so much right now. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m probably too weak.

No. Stop. Don’t think about that right now. Just put the rock in the lock and get the kriff out of here. No philosophical dialogue needed.

Oh, but I love philosophical dialogue! There’s so many things in the galaxy to think about, but instead I’m limiting myself to the necessities. Once I’m out of here, I’ll think about whatever I want, without the fear of a drilling headache. I’ll think about all the drugs I can take, and music and all the things I hate. It’ll be wonderful.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself hoarsely. My left arm reaches up to the lock, jamming the long rock around for a few seconds as I search for the keyhole. I can feel the pointy bits of the rock create a burning sensation against my palm. It stings as it mixes with the mud and dirt. My lower lip sucks between my teeth at the growing discomfort, until I decide I need my right hand too. My right fingers clasp over the left, continuing to scrape the rock against the metal.

After two more seconds of that, the rock slides into the hole with a click. I can feel something warm drip down my left wrist, but my hand is buzzing with nerves and I’m too relieved to care. I begin twisting my wrist as the rock slides into the lock further. I can feel it getting ready to click- so close. A discomforting groan escapes my gritted teeth as I feel the rock tear at my skin. But then I feel it click and twist effortlessly, and with a slump my cage door swings open.

I can’t push myself from the floor fast enough. I hate being in that damned cage. I’ll never be in one again.

As soon as I’m free, a noise from my right makes my head snap. I don’t know what it is exactly- I can only make out the form of a humanoid through my tunnel vision. They see me, and they see that I see. They’re about to turn and run, or grab something from their belt, but I won’t let them. In a messy surge I spring forward, wrapping one arm around their chest and jabbing the other into their neck. The sharp rock pierces the skin with little resistance, and I do it again to make sure I got them well enough.

I can feel the blood spray out in thick gushes, but I don’t care. If they didn’t want anything to happen to them, they shouldn’t have locked me up. They brought this on themselves.

I let the body drop to the floor in a heap. My heart is thump thumping against my ribs, and my brain feels clouded from the adrenaline. But up ahead, past the rows of cell doors like mine, I can see a metal door. A panel beside it is blinking green and yellow, and I decide that it’s my only option.

I drop the rock into the mud under me, and jog to the door. My palm sings in harmony at the retched thing no longer touching it. I only think of my wounds once I’m jamming my fist against the panel, waiting for the door to hiss open.

My left hand is wounded. My palm is ridden with several cuts varying between deep and shallow. All are dark red, some thick and others thin. Mud and dirt is smeared across the surface, mixing with the burgundy substance. One of the worst cuts in the middle has a sickly yellow ring already developing around it. In short, it didn’t really look good.

Before I can start to think about the man I just shanked in the neck, the door opens. I climb into the tiny room immediately, blinded by the orange hued lights on the inside. I let my right hand select the only button I can- ‘UP’- to give my left a break for a bit. It stings like hell, and I’m left to wonder if opening that door was even worth the cost of a probable infection.

The elevator stops with a shake. The door slides open with a long creak, and I’m back in the dark. I can see into an open, cave like area with two figures at the sides. Each hold a long weapon that sparks with purple electrical lines. Tasers of some kind most likely.

I’m about to thrust out a hand and send them both to the afterlife, but the inside of my head begins to ring like a gong. Immediately, my body goes slack with exhaustion and shock. The guard on my right grabs a fistful of my top and throws me into the ground in front of him, allowing dirt to get into my mouth. There’s a mechanical chuckle that comes from his own. And as I lie there on the mud in defeat, all I know for certain is that I want him dead. Dead for caging me and humiliating me, even if he’s not fully responsible for either. I want him to suffer.

“Get up,” he demands in a gravelly voice. He thrusts his weapon towards me, making my back arch as electrical currents bounce around my skin like quick music. His slanted red eyes narrow at the sight of my pain. “I said-”

I’m on my feet in a flash. I say nothing, but my face hardens. Looking up at him, I can see how much taller he is than I. I can see that he is not even human. I can see that the years of being a guard in this line of work has made him into a man of insecurity. I don’t care. I will kill him. I can’t now, for the other guard will see me and I’ll be too tired to fight back. But soon.

I stare at the guard for a few seconds, imagining him twitching like the one I killed with the rock. I imagine the way his blood would hit the ground and how I’d stomp around in it. I imagine watching the color drain from his eyes as he looks into my own and realizes his mistake. And it calms me.

I turn around slowly, facing the exit of the cave. I can hear the dim roar of a crowd and music that I know I’ve heard before. But I don’t recognize where I am or why. I’m at a disadvantage.

I take a few steps forward. As the light at the end of the tunnel creeps closer, it begins to hurt my eyes, which have adjusted to being in the underground shade for so long. My left hand reaches up to block out some of the blinding rays as I continue forward. And then finally, I’m in the room. The crowd cries at my entrance, and I watch their arms pump and jump from behind a fence above me.

There are four walls- one of which is a ray shield that lets me see into space. The other three spew out something I was almost expecting- people. Two humans and a Zabrak. I would look to them for answers, but they’re just as confused as me. All I know is that whatever happens next, it won’t be a walk in the meadows. The crowd is roaring.

A giant blue hologram comes to life in the center of the room. The people screams even louder in approval, if it’s possible. My ears pop as I watch a man in the hologram appear fifty feet high and motion for the crowd to settle down after blowing a few kisses. While my eyes still adjust to the light, I can just observe enough of him to get a basic idea of who he is.

Umbaran, torso made of metal. His hair is up in a ponytail above his head, and he wears a cape like a king. I think I know who it is, but I’m not just going to blurt it out. Mur and Talik have mentioned someone named Sorc Tormo before- a crime lord for an organization called the Haxion Brood.

“Welcome, welcome all,” he says menacingly. His hologram leans down a bit to make eye contact with the Zabrak, who appears to be trembling. “My, what a special day it is today!” He turns his attention back to the crowd.

“We all know how rare it is to find force users, don’t we? After all that rebellion and whatnot. They always make themselves so difficult to find! But we found some-” the crowd goes nuts- “just floating through space, can you believe it? No? No? I couldn’t either! So I said, why don’t we hang onto them? Make a show out of it?”

My eyes narrow in anger. If and when I live through this, this guy will regret not leaving me be. That’s my new reason to live- basic vengeance.

“So, here we are! Jedi!”

I’m not a Jedi.

“I expect all of you to put up a dirty, dirty fight. Last one standing gets to live!” His face is wiped blank of excitement, and he turns away before snapping his fingers and saying “Oh! Give them their new toys! Hope you folks don’t mind, we made some alterations,” and flickers back into nonexistence.

From the corner of my right eye, I can see something spinning towards me. I reach my hand out, pulling it to me with help from the force and observe.

It’s my lightsabers. Both of them, fused into one. When I twist either end, they separate. Just as I had intended to do myself.

Thank you, I say in my mind. This will be most useful.

The other Jedi are all staring at their lightsabers in disbelief. None of theirs look to be double bladed and detachable like mine. While they stare at their weapons like children, I ignite my red saber and take a deep breath. I grip the hilt with both hands and raise it defensively.

The male on the right snaps his head towards me. He reminds me of the unstable Jedi on Zeffo- auburn hair, slight beard, stocky. When I make eye contact with him, I feel calm inside. Kind of slow and relaxed and tired. I can see that he is not one for unnecessary violence, and the wheels inside of his brain are turning like mine. But I don’t know how to get out of this situation without engaging in the rules that Tormo laid out. I am not in control.

I’ve never killed anyone for sport before. I’ve killed without remorse or guilt before, and I have killed and enjoyed it. But I’ve never killed for such a small or petty reason. Somehow, the very thought feels dirty and dishonest, and that means something from me. But what other option do I have? I have to kill this guy. I have to kill all three of them.

The crowd is not only screaming nonsense, now they’re screaming obscenities.

“Fight it out!”

“Give us a kriffing show!”

The Zabrak pushes his saber’s switch, and the blue sword comes to life. His facial expression morphs into one of determination and ferocity, but all I can see is someone extremely arrogant. It seems my paranoia and intuition about someone’s character won’t even pause in a life or death scenario. When he makes eye contact with me, he charges forward.

I rub my boots in the dirt a bit to give myself a firmer stance. My fingers wrapped around the cylinder tighten in anticipation. Come on, Zabrak. Show me what you’ve got.  

BAM! A giant structure erupts from the floor and stops the man mid run. Beside me, another structure raises and slides down after what I count to be two seconds. The whole arena is rigged with booby traps.

I’m certain the man survived this encounter with the boobytrapped floor- he’s most likely just knocked back. Before the cylinder he ran into falls back into the floor, I run to the right to put some space between me and him. I jump when I encounter the other human male, who’s green lightsaber clashes against the red I wield. He looks as shocked as I do, but after a moment his expression changes to defensive and strong.

He pushes me back with his saber, making me slide backwards in the dirt and moving quickly to block his string of offensive attacks. His strength is overpowering me, slowly but surely. He’s forcing me back to one of the giant cylinders raising and lowering from the floor. If I’m not careful, I’ll either knock into one or be given a ride up.

“We don’t have to fight!” he grits. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

It’s a nice sentiment, but it annoys me.

I catch his lightsaber against mine and twist, pushing his into the dirt. The man looks up at me, teeth grit together. While his eyebrows are pushed down to express anger or frustration, his eyes tell me something different. He so looks like he doesn’t want to be here, that he doesn’t want to fight any of us. I believe him. But as long as I have a chance to live and get the hell out of here, I have to take it.

I switch my saber off and jump back onto the platform. It shoots into the air and I balance myself. Above, I can see the female human weave her way between the structures as the Zabrak heaves himself up onto one. Below me, the man stares up at me, knees bent slightly in preparation. Ah, I see. He’s going to Jedi flip up here.

Without thinking, I flip my saber back on. My pointed toes slip from the structures and I fall down. I pull my arms above my head, then sink it down like the teeth of a venomous snake. I can feel the blade catch in the mans skin, right on the nape of his neck. With the momentum, I spring back up and jump behind him, my chest heaving with adrenaline.

I watch for a moment, before the man crumples to the dirt, dead.

The crowd’s volume only increases in approval at my action. I stare at the dead Jedi in front of me. This handsome, stocky warrior is dead by my hand. Did he have a family? Someone to return to? A homeworld he tried to find after the purge? There’s a spark of guilt growing inside of me, but I quickly silence it by insisting I had no choice.

“Ah, our first kill!” Tormo’s voice rings out. “Let’s see how you all do without cover!”

The rising and lowering cylindrical structures fall into the floor and don’t elevate themselves again. The Zabrak ignite their sabers when he meets my eyes- one blue and one green. I swallow and switch on the red saber again, this time the green saber on the other side following momentarily.

The male starts charging towards me for a second time, blue lightsaber bobbing up and down with each step. Hurriedly, I pass my lightsaber to my right hand and thrust my left hand forward. Immediately, the indigo lightning shoots from my fingers and freezes the man in a cage. The woman flinches and her eyes widen.

Then, suddenly, I’m angry and guilty and more upset than I’ve ever been. I’m angry at myself for killing the Jedi- both of them. I’m angry at the clones for forcing me from my life on Ilum. I’m even angry at Cal for making me enjoy his company. And most importantly, I’m angry at these Jedi for challenging me. I’m angry at my parents, for leaving me. I’m angry at the Empire and the Republic and myself more than anyone.

My hand is becoming more and more sore, but I can’t stop the anguish in my stomach. I’m not even sure I want to.

“Kriff!” I scream out. The rage inside crashes out through the lightning and the Force and there’s a great flash of light. I’m blasted back, hitting the wall behind me. There’s a ringing in my ears and I can’t see. All I can feel is the sweat dripping from my forehead and the sting of the air.

I grip my lightsaber tight, afraid to lose it. It’s my lifeline, even though it’s switched off. After a moment and my heartbeat beginning to steady, my vision returns to normal. A hint of tunnel vision, but I can see color in the form of whizzing blurs.