《TK-902's Excellent Adventure》 Chapter 1 The air was stagnant. Dust particles drifted about lazily, catching the light of standing glowlamps erected randomly across the crumbling ruins of the vast underground citadel. In the deepest, darkest, most obscure depths of the ruins was a cave carved through sheer bedrock. Upon passing through the cavemouth, one would enter its throat: a tunnel that snaked down even deeper into the planet, twisting and turning, dropping and rising for miles. Anyone mad enough, or anyone working for someone mad enough to push on to the end of the tunnel; across wide chasms, through subterranean flooding and up sheer cliffsides would find it ended in a large, domed chamber. Within this chamber stood a rectangular monolith. Constructed from a material that in one moment would shine like smooth brass, and in the next, appear rough and cracked, it was an inspiring sight that almost made the trip worth it. Almost. Two imperial stormtroopers stood below a stone archway that marked the entrance¡ªand exit, presumably, to the chamber. The two guards silently peered over the many flights of finely sculpted stairs leading all the way down to the foot of the monolith. Their white armor plating, the emblem of the imperial military, was currently anything but; caked with dust, grime, soot, and an as-of-yet unidentified mystery fluid that upon closer inspection, appeared to be breathing. A handful of fingernail-sized rocks trickled down from somewhere up above the archway, breaking the silence as they bounced along the mosaic flooring and settled at their feet. ¡°Hey, Reese.¡± The shorter of the two suddenly whispered. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°What do you¡­ think they¡¯re doing down there?¡± He asked, gesturing with the lower lip of his helmet down into the depths of the large chamber. ¡°The Inquisitor? Haah. Honestly¡ªI don¡¯t want to know.¡± Reese said, keeping his head locked straight at the wall opposite him. If the teeming monolith interested him at all, his body did not betray that fact. The shorter of the two stormtroopers edged closer to the stairway as he ran his gaze up and down the face of the monolith. He had to crane his neck to fully grasp the sheer size of the thing. ¡°Something about binding a force-whatsit or other¡­¡± He muttered. ¡°¡­And what does that mean, Jest?¡± Reese said. He gave a tired scoff as he watched his squad mate stare spellbound at the monolith out the corner of his eye. Turning his attention to the blaster rifle in his hands, he ran a routine check of his E-11; he remembered how much he hated doing this back in the academy but now it was all that kept him sane on these long missions. Relishing in the familiar contours and scratches of his weapon, he spooned out a glob of alien gunk with his index finger from the mag well. ¡°Hurhk.¡± He gagged, wiping it off on one of the two finely sculpted columns supporting the archway. ¡°Damn. This is gonna¡¯ take days to clean...¡± He groaned. [Bzzt. TK-902¡ªzzzztt¡­-127. Both of you cut the chatter or bzzt¡ªyou¡¯ll be in for a reprimand] Their helmet-mounted comms fizzled to life for a moment before dying back down just as suddenly.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°¡°Yessir!¡±¡± The pair saluted. Despite not being in the physical presence of their superior, they subconsciously stood at attention. Such was the extent of their training; obedience was ingrained deep in their bones. This far down beneath the surface, it was quiet like the dead of space. It was in this utter silence, broken up by the occasional falling pebble and flicker of the nearby glowlamp, that the minutes ticked by. The silence broke. Both troopers sprang to attention as a loud droning reverberated throughout the chamber. It was like the bellow of a star-destroyer throttling it at max sub-lightspeed: the ground shook and the walls creaked. The two stormtroopers reeled from a sudden tremor, wavering unsteadily on their feet. ¡°H, hey! Uh, this is bad, right¡ªwoaah?!¡± Jest lost his balance towards the end of his words and toppled over awkwardly onto his hands. Reese braced himself against the pillar he had vandalized with finger scrapings of alien gunk sourced from his weapon. The two rode the tremor out. Filtered through the visor embedded in his helmet, all Jest could make out from his position was the ground beneath him; the bouncing rock particles and dust whipping across its cragged face. The noise was overwhelming, so great that it dwarfed the rest of the world. The comms could have been ablaze with chatter, and he wouldn¡¯t even know it. They probably were. The thought caused him to try and raise his head, but a sudden spike in the tremor¡¯s ferocity kept him down. It lasted for what felt like hours. In these moments, Jest lived entirely within the present; no thought of the future entered his mind. There was no question of what he would be doing after this mission wrapped up, which cantina he would visit, what color twi¡¯lek he preferred¡ªhis entire being focused on the quake; the noise, the feverish pandemonium. In that moment, he was nothing but a speck of dust in a vast, chaotic galaxy; a grain of sand resting atop the surface of a god¡¯s pounding drum. Eventually, it tapered off, and his mind returned to him. He gasped as a sudden rush of air entered his lungs and negotiated with his body armor into allowing him to stand up. His body was already sore as it was; the Stormtrooper Corps had not prepared him for the treacherous descent this expedition had entailed. Tack onto that the stiff ridges and flats of his armor that only further restricted his movement, and the task of climbing back up to his feet was no longer a trivial one. ¡°Ugh¡­ Do we need to call that in? Preeetty sure everyone felt¡ª.¡± He said, finally managing to lift his pounding head. ¡°¡ªWhat the?¡± He lurched backwards, miraculously avoiding a flash of¡­ he wasn¡¯t sure what¡ªWhatever it was, it had missed the soft flesh of his jugular by mere centimeters. Despite the thermal insulation provided by his body-glove, the heat generated from that thing seared through to his neck. He paid the pain no heed, however, focusing instead on the humming sword of blue and white before him. His eyes couldn¡¯t leave it; they followed along its every movement, entranced, barely registering that it was attached to a human¡¯s form. He could hear the familiar buzz of a communicator, but it was too faint to be his. ¡°¡ªYeah. No problem. Just a couple of bucketheads guarding the entrance. I¡¯m almost there.¡± A woman¡¯s voice. Not one he could place. He looked up. Her eyes, dyed deep azure by the lightsaber in her hand, fixed on him. Behind her, a trail of blood splatter tracked across a pillar ending at Reese¡¯s headless corpse. His eyes refocused on the woman¡¯s lightsaber¡ªhe recognized it now. Jedi. His training activated and he reached for his fallen blaster. ¡°So long. Buckethead.¡± She lunged towards him. Grasping it, Jest raised the weapon and pivoted his torso to face his attacker. There was no time to aim, there was never time to aim. He got a shot off, but it went wide. And that was it. The world spun as his head went flying. Chapter 2 Jest gasped. Dim light filtered through his helmet¡¯s visor, stinging his eyes. Heart pounding, he raised a hand to his neck. He could¡­ recall the sensation of the lightsaber slicing through it, cauterizing the exposed flesh as it passed. Acute pain haunted the area like a phantom as if his mind was still adjusting to the fact that his head was now reconnected to his body. ¡°You seem out of it. Dehydrated?¡± A familiar voice called out to him. The pain brought lucidity and he raised his head. All rank-and-file stormtroopers wore physically identical helmets and armor; even so, he could tell it was Reese from the familiar pattern of mud and grime coating his helmet. ¡°No¡­I, I¡¯m, uh, fine.¡± He answered halfheartedly while surveying the surroundings. They were still in the ruins, the chamber at the end of the tunnel, specifically. The one he and Reese had been guarding before they were killed just now¡­ Killed quite gruesomely, he might add. He eyed Reese skeptically before turning his attention to the entrance they were guarding. He considered its lofty archway and the dark cave walls beyond it that trailed back to the ruined citadel. ¡°There¡¯s no way¡­¡± He grumbled as he tightened his grip on his E-11. The cave beyond was dark. Who could say what lurked in its darkest shadows? It was entirely possible a Jedi had slipped in and followed them down into this godforsaken ruin. Their expedition had not exactly been a subtle one. Furthermore, they left a trail of glowlamps in their wake as a lifeline¡ªall the Jedi had to do was follow along the trail they blazed. His heart lurched. ¡°Reese, I think we should call for reinforcements." ¡°Reinforcements?¡± ¡°Right. Maybe A purgetrooper, or six.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Just¡­ In case.¡± ¡°In case of what?" ¡°Jedi.¡± ¡°Jedi?¡± Reese¡¯s helmet tilted to the side quizzingly. ¡°Jedi.¡± Jest nodded. ¡°Uh-huh. But would that be enough?¡± ¡°It should¡ªHmm. You¡¯re right, we should also call for a dozen flametroopers. Kriff! We might as well get the inquisitor up here while we¡¯re at it. They like fighting Jedi, right? They¡¯d probably thank us!¡± ¡°Why not call in Lord Vader?¡± ¡°Good idea. Do you have his holo?¡± ¡°A, are you joking right now? I¡­ can¡¯t tell.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. [Bzzt¡ªdamnit! TK-902! TK-127! Keep this channel clear! Bzzt. Communications arezzzzt interfering with the inquisitorzzzzttt experizzzt¡ªment! Expect a demeritzzzztt for Bzzzt¡­] ¡°¡°Yessir!¡±¡± The two clamped up. This time around, Jest did not bother with the whole song and dance of saluting a superior who was not even present. What was the point? He had a Jedi to worry about. How much time did he have anyways? He considered the taboo of removing his helmet so he could speak freely, but he froze mid-thought. Something had moved. Just out the corner of his eye, an unassuming little shadow had receded. It was only him and Reese here, and they were both standing still. Which could be an advantage, depending on how he used it. He decided to remain still, giving no indication he had seen anything. One agonizingly slow second passed, then two. He couldn¡¯t wait any longer¡ªif he did, his guard would fall, and he might even convince himself that he hadn¡¯t seen anything. One second more¡ªthat was all he could manage before his taut nerves snapped and he lashed out with the butt of his E-11 into the shadows. ¡°Hah!¡± Her lithe body contorted at a seemingly impossible angle as she evaded the strike and moved with a dancer¡¯s grace in Reese¡¯s direction. ¡°Jedi! Open Fire!¡± Jest shrieked, pivoting his back foot and leveling his blaster. The snap-hiss of the Jedi¡¯s lightsaber woke Reese from whatever contemplative stupor he was lost in. ¡°Kiddin¡¯ me¡ª" He tried to step out of the way, but he was far, far too slow. His head soared through the air, free of its body. Once again, the nightmare was repeating itself. Jest¡¯s eyes strained just to make out the fetters of her cloak whipping about behind her. He got two shots in. Both missed, one flew over her left shoulder and the other hung way to the right. His aim was not this bad. Why was she so difficult to hit? She was almost within striking distance. ¡°No!¡± Desperate, and fearing the pain of decapitation, he half-ducked, half-fell out of the way of her strike. What he did not account for, however, was her knee driving itself into his gut. Thwack. How her bare knee could exert such force and remain intact after colliding with solid plastoid was beyond him. His body sailed through the air before colliding heavily with one of the stone pillars holding up the archway not far from where Reese died¡ªagain. He felt something rising in his throat as he tried in vain to pick himself up off the ground. He got as far as lifting his arms, but the rest of his body refused to budge¡ªsomething important was definitely broken. ¡°¡ªYeah. No problem. Just a couple of bucketheads guarding the entrance. I¡¯m almost there.¡± ¡°Damnit¡­¡± He choked up a mixture of blood and vomit that pooled along the interior of his helmet. He was rapidly losing feeling in his extremities. His blurred vision landed on a fuzzy object resting a few paces away from him. A ball? His mind derailed to thoughts of his childhood; muddy ball games waged on the grassy fields of Dantooine. A father leaning against a parked land-speeder watched his son ready at his position. The Kath hound whistle that signaled the start of the match. He passed, he ran, he received, and passed again. In a moment of clarity, his eyes refocused. The ball deflated into a familiar shape. It was a stormtrooper¡¯s helmet. ¡°If it isn¡¯t Reese¡­¡± He coughed up a mouthful of blood. ¡°Finally¡­ huk. Finally, g, got ahead of yourself, eh?¡± he chuckled. The helmet¡¯s distinctive scowl seemed to deepen. ¡°Ha¡­¡± His thoughts returned to Dantooine, of kids throwing and punting the ball¡ªnow Reese¡¯s severed head¡ªup and down the pitch. The kids no longer had faces but wore little, kid-sized stormtrooper helmets. They no longer had names, but numbers. 152 passed to 201, and 480 made an interception before tossing Reese¡¯s head high, raining down blood on players and spectators alike. His helmet shifted, the soup of blood and vomit bottled up inside rode up along his face and seeped into his eyes. Squinting through the stinging pain, he could just make out the Jedi looking down at him. There was nothing in that gaze. No malice, no hatred for the enemy. It was the kind of gaze one might give a rock or¡­ a crumpled-up piece of paper. Nothing in her gaze suggested that she was looking into the eyes of another intelligent lifeform. Her lips moved, but he couldn¡¯t hear her. It didn¡¯t matter¡ªhe knew exactly what she said. So long. Buckethead. Chapter 3 On his 17th birthday, Jest¡¯s parents revealed to him the dire financial situation that afflicted their family. His father¡¯s medical bills for one, the mortgage on the homestead for another. There were many holes of different sizes and shapes siphoning funds from their account. That same evening, Jest got sidetracked from his mission to make a sizeable deposit at the bank and may have imbibed one-too-many Corellian sunbursts at the Drunken Houk¡ªa Dantooinian watering hole. Afterwards, he wandered into a nearby casino after mistaking it for the branch office of the banking clan. An overly friendly Rodian employee prompted him to make a deposit in an upcoming swoop race. Deposit. That was where the misunderstanding arose. Addled as he was, he ¡®deposited¡¯ over a thousand credits on Bluebird: a then unknown, mid-rim swoop racer. This race would be his debut, and the odds were stacked against him. Completely unaware of what he had done, Jest waltzed out of the betting house in blissful ignorance and returned to his family¡¯s rural homestead. Upon waking up the next day, he would discover two things: 10,000 credits sitting in his account, and that he had expended a lifetime¡¯s worth of luck in a single moment. Bluebird won, and he kept winning; spawning heated cries of ¡®bet on blue¡¯ to follow him wherever he raced. Up until the day they died, his parents believed the sudden windfall was due to a ¡®Wisely-placed investment in an offworld trading company¡¯ and that their son was possessed of ¡®great foresight¡¯. That is why, on his ¡®third life¡¯, Jest concocted and executed operation: Bluebird. He could have simply called it ¡®operation: run-for-your-fraggin¡¯-life-as-fast-as-you-can¡¯¡ªbecause that is all the operation entailed¡ªbut the former was more auspicious. He clambered awkwardly down the stairs with no destination in mind. Just, away. Away from her. The hard edges of his body armor, specifically, the plating covering his thigh prodded and dug into his hip with every step. It was a long and treacherous hike to the bottom. Apparently, whatever ancient civilization built this ruin did not think for a moment to install any handrails. Despite this, It was an unwelcome sight to see the stairs taper off; he wished he could follow them into the ground and escape to a hidden, underground fortress unreachable by the Jedi. Looking around, the basin was a little more cramped then he would have liked. Apparently, the chamber¡¯s walls tended inward the further down one went. The area at the bottom of the chamber was far smaller than the vast emptiness above might suggest. His internal clock told him that Reese was probably dead by now. The poor guy refused to come along with him, insisting instead on guarding the entrance. There just wasn¡¯t any time to explain, every second he spent in vain trying to persuade Reese, was a second closer the Jedi got. Sure, a court martial for abandoning post was bad, real bad; but it was a hell of a lot better than dying¡ªagain! A small tent bearing an imperial insignia was pitched not far off from where the stairs ended. He could make out two humanoid figures within. He approached. The two¡¯s conversation was a refreshing tonic that soothed his taut nerves. ¡°That¡¯s what I am trying to tell you, lieutenant! Break through the jamming!¡± A hoarse, angry voice. It was familiar. How many times had that voice screamed into his ear through the comms this mission alone? It could only belong to one man; his commanding officer: Captain Darada. ¡°But Sir¡ª¡± The squirming young man in an officer¡¯s uniform made a face. ¡°¡ªNo buts! It will be our butts, our asses mounted on the inquisitor¡¯s wall if¡ª¡± ¡°Pardon the *gasp* intrusion, Sir.¡± Jest interrupted. ¡°¡ªyou fail¡­. Ugh. DAMN¡ªWhat?!¡± Darada spun around. He had a face that could put the fear of the emperor into even the bravest men. Judging from his lack of reaction, either Jest was braver than most, or he was wearing a helmet that masked his horror. ¡°Sir! *gasp* J, Jedi¡ªhaaa¡­. Jedi spotted!¡± Only now did he realize how gassed he was from running down all those flights of stairs. He was only semi-coherent, but the gist seemed to be relayed to the captain as his scowl immediately flatlined at the mention of ¡®Jedi¡¯: ¡°You. What the fuck is your designation?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°TK-902. Sir¡± ¡°Great.¡± His scowl returned even deeper. ¡°Alright, chuckles, where¡¯s the Jedi? The post you abandoned?¡± ¡°Yessir!¡± Jest said without a smidge of shame. Darada¡¯s eyes never left his helmet, he raised a hand to activate his in-ear communicator: ¡°TK-127. Come in¡­ TK-127, this is Captain Darada, I repeat, Come in. What is your status?¡± [Bzzzt¡­. Zzt.] Jest balled his fists. The static was suffocating. Darada turned off the communicator. He might have been grinning, but the way his deep facial scars intersected with his lips made his expression appear anything but pleased. He raised his hand, Jest thought he might lash out and braced himself. But the impact never came. Darada¡¯s hand was now at his chin, stroking the misshapen patches of graying facial fuzz that grew interspaced between the scarring like weeds. It was not cut to regulation, but then again, nothing about Darada was regulation. He remained like that for several drawn out seconds. His gaze alternated from the stairs, to the distant monolith, and back again. Jest and the fidgety young officer remained silent all the while, awaiting orders. ¡°Nix that last order Jenkins. Go to the lower floor and report to the Inquisitor that the forces stationed outside have been wiped out.¡± ¡°W, Wiped out? The rearguard¡ªS, Surely¡ª¡± ¡°Go. Now.¡± ¡°Yessir!¡± ¡°Haaah. That explains why we haven¡¯t heard from them, I guess.¡± Captain Darada sighed deeply as he watched Jenkins run off in the direction of the monolith. His expression softened for a moment before turning rigid like stone. ¡°With me, soldier.¡± Jest had questions about this ¡®lower floor¡¯, but he did not need to be told twice. He straightened his back and followed his captain into the tent. ¡°According to standard protocol, you should have called it in. However, considering the gag-order issued by the inquisitor for her experiment¡ªyou did not technically break any rules in running the intel down here on foot. But, of course¡ª¡± He said, stopping at a weapon rack and removing a large, bulky object before turning to face Jest. ¡°¡ªWe both know why you fled down here.¡± Jest did not like what he was insinuating; still, he silently received the object. A C-49x Flamethrower. It was heavy¡ªweighing many times more than the E-11 strapped over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m rather old-fashioned, you see.¡± He said. Turning his attention back to the weapon rack, he plucked up another flamethrower, one identical to the one in Jest¡¯s hands. ¡°Current imperial military dogma states that abandoning one¡¯s comrade in the advancement of the Empire¡¯s agenda is an acceptable, if not laudable act. However.¡± He sneered at Jest. ¡°As I said, I¡¯m old-fashioned. So, as a reward for your strict adherence to code, you now have the honor of assisting me in flushing out the Jedi.¡± Click. He racked a slide along the flamethrower in his hands. ¡°Toss that E-11 and strap on a couple fuel packs. Time is critical.¡± ¡°Yessir.¡± Jest replied mechanically. He shrugged off his E-11 and hoisted two large fuel cannisters onto his back¡ªone over each shoulder. The interface was relatively simple, and he had learned how to operate one of these back at the academy¡­ In theory, anyways. Theoretical knowledge was enough to get the tanks connected, but which cord was he to connect to the weapon itself, and where? Somehow, trapped in time and place in this godforsaken pit, fearing for his life and addled with adrenaline; this obscure, niche piece of information evaded him. ¡°Look here.¡± Darada slapped the back of his helmet to get his attention. He jolted before waddling his body around to see the man¡¯s aged and weathered body was not only holding up the entire apparatus without issue, but a small gout of pilot flame flickered out the nozzle of his flamethrower, signaling that he had managed to put it on correctly. ¡°You need to connect this cord to the receptacle¡ªhere.¡± Jest stood by as Darada forcibly connected the weapon to his right fuel tank. ¡°When the tank runs empty, flick this nob here to cycle tanks. Got it?¡± ¡°¡­Yessir¡ªerr. What¡­ Do I do if both run out?¡± ¡°Pray?¡± He scoffed, cracking another one of those fiendish grins: ¡°You could always try swinging it like a hammer. It¡¯s pretty damn heavy, after all.¡± ¡°Oo-kay then. Maybe I should take my E-11¡­ y¡¯know: just in case.¡± His eyes moved to the spot where he had deposited his trusty blaster rifle. Darada shook his head. ¡°Absolutely not. You¡¯ll get us both killed. Blasters are nothing but a liability when fighting Jedi. Now then. If there¡¯s nothing else¡­? we¡¯ve got a Jedi to fry.¡± He turned and walked out of the tent. Jest followed along, reluctantly leaving behind his E-11. His hands coiled around the textured grips of the C-49x and his index finger traced an anxious path around the trigger guard. A liability? Jest considered what the captain had said. ¡°What about the Inquisitor?¡± He asked, hope seeping into his words. ¡°What about the inquisitor? She won¡¯t help us. Our lives are nothing next to the success of the experiment.¡± ¡°¡­Nothing?¡± Jest muttered, too low for Darada to hear. What was it with force users disregarding his life as expendable? He entrenched himself behind a stack of imperial crates located not far from where the stairs ended. Darada hid himself in the shadowy recess of a stone overhang with an angle of fire perpendicular to his own. Ideally, they would catch the Jedi by surprise and in a crossfire. The Jedi should have few other options as the Imperial encampment was situated at a choke point in the chamber; sandwiched in between two large walls. Unless one had the means to travel through the air, the only way to reach the monolith and alleged ¡®lower floor¡¯ from the ground was through this bottleneck. Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Jest felt like he was back on guard duty. It was dead quiet, and he was just waiting, watching and listening. He wanted to crack a joke at Reese¡¯s expense to pass the time, but his mind could only grasp in vain at the empty space that his friend¡¯s presence once filled. Reese was gone¡­ Or was he? He braced himself against the crates; they did not budge, which was a relief. Whatever was inside weighed a lot more than he did. He watched the stairs. If he threw up his arms and gave up¡ªif she slashed open his neck and his life poured out, could he un-spill the milk and go back? if he did, could he change anything? Probably not. Had he stayed behind, that would be two dead stormtroopers, and Captain Darada would be no wiser of the Jedi¡¯s presence. He pictured Reese¡¯s body, the cauterized flesh still smoking but the rest of his body cold to touch; his lifeless eyes were wide with a mixture of awe and terror. He died alone, miles beneath the surface of a nameless planet in a backwater star-system. It was 50-50 whether his body would be collected. His family would not receive notice of his ¡®heroic death¡¯ until months after the fact¡ªsuch was the backlog of imperial deaths that still needed to be reported. He was not sorry, and he did not feel like lying to himself. Stormtroopers were not owed ¡®heroic¡¯ deaths. Most just died, pointlessly, like dogs. The heroic ¡®boys in white¡¯, dauntless protectors of the Empire, was a fabrication¡ªpropaganda concocted by men and women in clean, ironed uniforms from the safety of Coruscant. Reese? The next of kin would be the end of it, and his parents would live and die without knowing just how their little boy was ground up in the gears of the imperial war machine. Too much thinking. He was feeling bloodthirsty. He wanted her to shed scalding tears and her flesh to fall away in charred tufts. He wished for her to appear now so he could grill her like a slab of nerf over an open pit. Jest was an ordinary human and a stormtrooper. The Bluebird incident aside, he was hardly a creature favored by whatever cosmic will held the galaxy in its thrall. How nice it was that today at least, the universe saw fit to fulfill his wish. He heard footsteps. Faint ones that grew louder as the seconds ticked by. She must have been vaulting down the stairs at a rate of five or six per stride. With that kind of dexterity, it was a wonder she had not arrived at the basin before he did¡­ What kept her? He peeked in Captain Darada¡¯s direction, and he saw what he believed to be the grizzled captain nod back¡­ Maybe not, it was dark, after all. He chose to believe it was a nod as it was just the spark he needed right now. It was the spark that would light the fire that would burn down the Jedi¡ªif he could help it.Stolen novel; please report. The Jedi¡¯s figure cleared the bend of the stairs. His heart lurched into a full-on sprint. He could see her. She was in front of him. She was basically dead, basically ashes. Just¡­ a few more meters. All the clocks in the galaxy ticked forward. ¡°Huup!¡± She leaped, clearing the last flight of stairs entirely. She knows. Instinct at the wheel and impulse on the throttle, Jest grit his and teeth lunged out from behind the stack of crates. His body fought to keep the weighty fuel tanks from knocking him off balance. The heat-treated durasteel of his flamethrower¡¯s nozzle heated up as a cocktail of fuel and propellent flooded the ignition chamber. A blinding flash of white and blue flew over his head, missing him by about half a foot. The airborne blade of light embedded itself in the side of one of the reinforced crates behind him. She was fast, but he expected that much. He led her falling body with the nozzle and held down the trigger. FWOOOOSHHH. A gout of flaming mortar spewed across the ornate flooring, creating a fiery landing for the Jedi. He was torching a museum-grade fresco, but he did not care. This whole planet could burn. ¡°Gah!¡± She cried out, less in pain and more in surprise. The hem of her robe caught sparks as she contorted her body mid-air to avoid landing in the inferno. By the time her feet touched the ground, her outer robe was ablaze, and she was left with no choice but to shed it. Hot. Hot! HOT! Even with his body-glove and gauntlets, holding the flamethrower was like grasping the sides of a cast-iron pot filled to the brim with boiling water. He ground his teeth. It took every drop of will he could squeeze out just to keep the weapon level and his finger pressed down on the trigger. How did he end up with the buck, fighting a Jedi?! He was just a rank-and-file stormtrooper; one of billions. Another gout of fiery death howled towards the Jedi. Darada had joined him in the fray. It was anyone¡¯s guess how he was operating the flamethrower in his officer¡¯s uniform¡ªspecial gloves, or something. Together, they attempted to barbeque the slippery eel. He swore she was slowing down, clearly tired from the constant acrobatics that kept her out of the flame¡¯s path. Jedi were hardly indefatigable. Hadn¡¯t the fall of their order proven that a thousand times over? She shrieked. That was odd: He got her. I actually got her. Jest watched in awe as the fair skin covering her left hand was coated in a glaze of mortar and erupted into flames. He seized the opportunity to press the attack, a fit of delirious laughter seizing him as he washed the world around him in flames. The power to pull such a lofty figure down to his own level was intoxicating. Even as his skin burned through contact with his superheated weapon, his lips twisted; it was nothing. It was all nothing compared to the pure joy he felt. Behind him, the lightsaber embedded in the crate twitched. He wished dearly that he could pull off his helmet so she could see his toothy sneer, but he was not taking any chances¡ªno matter how satisfying. He took a step forward, forcing the Jedi back a step. Oh, how the Jedi was glaring at him, now. Where was the apathy? The indifference? Where¡ª ¡°¡ªHuh¡­?¡± That was odd, when did she get her lightsaber back? Wasn¡¯t it stuck in the¡ª His body folded over in two. By the time he hit the ground, he could not feel¡­ anything below his waist. Where his hips and legs once were, there was now just a feeling of airiness. He screamed all the way into the void.