Star Wars: The Ancient Force

C H A P T E R . 8 -- Base vs. Jedi

LAYERS OF ELECTRONIC HUMMING and muffled clanging is all that fills the base now. The sound of emptiness is in every room, every hallway, every office, every closet, and cafeteria. Or nearly every room.

"This would've been easier if you brought your droids," Han says, reclining bored at a computer station, using his frustration to jab keys. "They probably—maybe—wouldn't be detected by the sensors guarding the main computer."

Luke's tired, calm eyes glance at him from another computer, agreeing. But enough time had passed for a touch of wry to come out, "I'll let them know that next time—when my powers are busy—" tossing an eye up to suggest the crane, "—that you've volunteered to carry them up every set of stairs." Han looks at Luke but Luke was playing it cool for another second before looking over, both smirking on the inside.

Han returns his eyes to the screen and takes a bite of his early lunch, a reluctant bite, as it was something tough and bitter. "Well, we still have 30 minutes to disarm all the traps, before the troops decide the building has killed us, according to her."

"According to the General." Wait, did I just stick up for her? Luke thinks.

Han eyes him, but not with concern. He now had faith in her ability too. "Though I'm... concerned, about what their plan will be when they realize we've changed all the codes and they can't get in." Then he plops his head into his hand to prop it up and grumbles, "Now it's asking for an Orange code, whatever that is. Go ask her if she read that too." He sighs, "At least I'm almost done."

Luke exits into the next room and sees Chewbacca chewing on snacks while gathering boxes of things: datacards, a few blasters, Imperial uniforms—anything of possible value on the market. Even cups and napkins—but those were from lunch. "Traps around the good stuff I take it," Luke mutters towards Chewbacca—towards, not to, because what good would a reply do.

Luke realizes Terigo was no longer with Chewbacca, but his essence points him down a hallway. He finds her at the entrance of a locker room with her lightsaber ignited— "What are you—"

"Oh hey," Terigo says cheerfully—pzeww woomzt— "Come try this out—"

"What's—What's going on." Blaster fire had shot at her from the end of one row of lockers, but she had deflected it with carefree whimsy.

—Pzeww pzeww—more shots fired. She calls towards the lockers, "There's no challenge if it's in the same spot. I practically held it still."

"What?" But Luke sees her open her palm from her lightsaber and focus to hover it in the air.

Two more shots fire and she tries to float her lightsaber to deflect them but misses and almost drops her saber when trying to catch it. "Nice try, but your friend had better aim."

A tired, furious stormtrooper jumps out from behind lockers and shoots—missing completely—saying, "He wasn't my friend!" then hides in a different spot. "And these are mass-produced pieces of crap! They shoot randomly! They're impossible!"

She exaggerates an eye-roll for Luke to see, and—

"You're still fighting those stragglers, or are these new, or—?" Luke says.

"Yeah, don't wana waste 'em. We have time," Terigo says. "I read what I needed to. Nothing new from anyone with the General. So now I'm trying to train controlling inanimate objects. My father doesn't—He didn't teach this sort of thing. Our religion's concern was always people, not things." Luke saw a layer of her fiery, determined will among her uplifted spirit. A determination to become stronger, a determination with a hint of desperation and hatred.