Kenobi Chronicles

Episode 9 (part 1)

The sky was growing bluer from its black expanse. The night was vanishing—and with it what little cover they had. Kenobi strode down the streets, occasionally looking over his shoulder for the shadowy form of the Inquisitor.

His spine tingled as he hurried on. There was a trace of frustration in his thoughts. The Inquisitor had seemed so strong for one so young. Had he really lost so much of his own skill—Lost so much as to not put up a proper fight with an enemy?

A movement at the corner of his eye drew his attention to it—but it was only some creature in the alley looking for some food. The hair raised on the back of his neck. He felt like he was losing his mind, again. Cere Junda was right. Cutting oneself off from the Force did have its repercussions. And it wasn't just falling to the dark side.

"Quickly, inside now." Kenobi whispered as he pushed Leia towards a rundown tavern, oddly still open this early in the morning. Leia obeyed, still quite frightened from their earlier encounter.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, her shoulders trembling. Kenobi shut the door behind them.

"We will be all right. But we haven't as much time as before. Come." He lead her over to where the bartender was making a few last preparations for the morning, before ending his night shift.

"What'll you have, traveler?" He asked. Kenobi leaned over the counter.

"Please, sir. I need off this planet as soon as possible—" Kenobi began. The bartender froze and stared.

"This ain't that kind of joint, my friend." The bartender's voice was heavily accented. Kenobi recognized it immediately as one from Coruscant.

"Normally, I am not so direct." Kenobi attempted to back pedal. Of course, the bartender would be put off from one seeking help so boldly. He held up his hands defensively. "Please, I need passage under the Empire's radar for me and—" he turned to Leia who stood just behind him.

"I'm his daughter." She said quickly. "Please, the white-suits are after me—they think I have force powers." Kenobi winced just a little at her oversharing. He slowly turned back around to look at the bartender.

"Force powers, eh?" The bartender asked. He looked the young girl up and down suspiciously. Then he tilted his head to the side to look back at Kenobi. "You say she's your daughter? Looks nothing like you."

"She looks more like her mother." Kenobi muttered. At that moment he had wished he had taped the young princess's mouth shut so that she had remained silent. But instead he looked back at her and added, "A spitting image, in fact."

Leia met his gaze with a questioning look.

"You'll have to talk with the boss—" the bartender said.

"Please, we haven't much time—" Kenobi began to protest.

"That's good—cause he's in there—" the bartender gestured back towards a door next to the counter. "Just go on in—he's there."

Kenobi took Leia's hand and hesitantly approached the doorway. He pressed the panel at the side of the door, and his stomach tensed—not knowing who or what would be facing him just beyond the door. It sighed open, and he quietly reached for his lightsaber.

The room was dark save a solitary green lamp sitting at the edge of the desk. It shrouded the bartender's 'boss' in complete shadow, only casting light on the white shirt and red leather jacket the figure wore across its broad chest.

"What is it, Johnny?" The figure asked, his large lumpy hands moved about in the shadows. Kenobi and Leia stepped inside, the door sighing close behind them. The figure grew annoyed.