Transport Shuttle Designation KX-771, Hyperspace | 19 BBY
The blue tunnel of hyperspace had always felt like drowning to me.
Not literally. The physics of faster-than-light travel were stable enough that you didn't feel motion or acceleration once the initial jump settled. But something about the way reality compressed around the ship, the way stars became lines and space became something that existed outside normal perception, triggered a primitive response in my hindbrain that whispered this is wrong, this shouldn't be possible.
Master Drallig had told me once that Force-sensitives experienced hyperspace differently than baseline humans. That we felt the distortion in ways that instruments couldn't measure, sensed the fundamental wrongness of skipping across light-years in heartbeats. He'd been right. Three years of war had meant thousands of hours in hyperspace and I'd never gotten comfortable with it.
The transport I'd booked passage on was civilian registry, a mid-range shuttle that ferried passengers between Outer Rim worlds for reasonable rates and didn't ask uncomfortable questions. Twenty-three other beings shared the passenger compartment with me. Mostly Twi'leks returning to Ryloth from business elsewhere, a few humans who looked like merchants or low-level corporate functionaries, one Rodian who kept to himself in a corner seat.
I'd taken a position near the back where I could watch the exits and the other passengers simultaneously. Old habit from the war. Never sit where you can't see threats coming.
Cham Syndulla's invitation had come through Sabetha's network, encrypted and cautious. The message had been brief: Heard you're competent. Could use competent people. Come to Ryloth if you're interested in making a difference. No promises, no details about what making a difference actually meant. Just an offer wrapped in enough vagueness that it couldn't incriminate anyone if intercepted.
I'd accepted because the alternative was returning to Nar Shaddaa where an Inquisitor now knew my face and Force signature. And because something about Syndulla's message had resonated with the part of me that still remembered being a Jedi, still felt the pull toward purpose beyond simple survival.
The Force stirred around me, currents shifting in ways that made the hair on my neck stand up.
Something was wrong.
I extended my senses carefully, reaching beyond the shuttle's hull into the hyperspace tunnel around us. Felt the other passengers, their life forces bright against the void. Felt the crew in the cockpit, focused on navigation and systems management. And felt something else.
Something cold.
The darkness I'd sensed in the warehouse on Nar Shaddaa, the presence that marked Inquisitors and dark side practitioners. It was close. Getting closer. Moving with purpose through hyperspace in a way that should have been impossible because ships in hyperspace didn't interact with each other, didn't occupy the same physical space.
Except when they did.
The shuttle lurched violently. Artificial gravity failed for three seconds and my stomach dropped into my boots before compensating systems kicked in. Somewhere in the passenger compartment, a Twi'lek woman screamed. The lights flickered, died, returned as dim emergency illumination.
The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, trying for calm and not quite achieving it. "Passengers, we're experiencing technical difficulties. Please remain seated and..."
The transmission cut off as something massive slammed into our hull.
Not a collision. A grappling connection. I felt it through the Force before the mechanical clang echoed through the ship's superstructure. Magnetic locks engaging, hull breach protocols activating, the desperate scream of metal being forced into configurations it wasn't designed for.
We were being boarded.
The system erupted across my vision without warning.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
EMERGENCY THREAT DETECTED
MANDATORY QUEST ACTIVATED
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
QUEST: DEFEAT THE INQUISITOR
Rank: CRITICAL
Description: An Imperial Inquisitor has tracked your presence and intercepted your transport. Survival requires elimination or escape.
Objective: Survive the encounter
Failure Condition: Death or Capture
Reward: Massive XP, Rare skill unlock, Title
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Enemy Detected: Imperial Inquisitor (Fifth Brother)
Level: 22
Threat Assessment: EXTREME
Recommended Strategy: Evasion, Environmental Advantage
Current Survival Probability: 31.4%
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Thirty-one percent. Better odds than Order 66 had given me, but not by much.
The other passengers were panicking now. Proper panic, the kind where rational thought shut down and animal instinct took over. People pressed toward the exits even though there was nowhere to go. The Rodian had drawn a blaster and was pointing it at nothing in particular. One of the Twi'lek men was shouting in Ryl, words too fast for my limited understanding of the language.
I stayed seated and reached for the Force.
Felt the boarding tunnel connecting our ship to whatever vessel had intercepted us. Felt figures moving through that tunnel with military precision. Stormtroopers, their presences bland and uniform in the Force, trained but not exceptional. And behind them, the cold darkness that marked the Inquisitor.
The Fifth Brother. The system had named him like we were acquainted, like this was a reunion instead of an execution. I searched my memory for any mention of that designation during my training but came up empty. Maybe he was a former Jedi...and that's why?
Regardless, the Inquisitors were new, created after Order 66 to hunt the survivors. Former Jedi twisted by the dark side into weapons pointed at their own kind.
The thought made me sick.
The shuttle's main hatch exploded inward with enough force to send shrapnel screaming through the passenger compartment. Someone near the front took a piece of metal to the chest and went down without a sound. Others dove for cover that didn't exist. I threw up a Force barrier on instinct, felt the impacts ring against it like hail on transparisteel.
Stormtroopers poured through the breach. Six of them, moving in practiced formation with blasters raised. "Everyone on the ground! Hands visible! Comply or be terminated!"
The passengers complied. Most of them. The Rodian tried to raise his blaster and took three shots to the chest before his finger found the trigger. He collapsed in a smoking heap while the smell of burned flesh filled the recycled air.
I stayed in my seat and let the Force blur the edges of my presence. Made myself uninteresting, just another terrified passenger frozen in shock. The technique wouldn't hold against Force-sensitive scrutiny but maybe the stormtroopers would overlook me.
The Inquisitor entered through the breached hatch and destroyed that hope immediately.
He was massive. Not tall, exactly, but broad across the shoulders and chest in a way that suggested either natural physique or extensive augmentation. His skin was gray, marked with ritual scarring that formed patterns I didn't recognize. Probably Pau'an ancestry mixed with something else. His eyes were yellow, bright with dark side corruption, and they swept across the passenger compartment with predatory focus.
Those eyes found me in three seconds.
"There you are." His voice was deep enough to feel in my chest. "The Jedi signature that's been causing such interesting complications."
I stood slowly, hands visible, trying to project calm I absolutely didn't feel. "I'm not looking for trouble."
"Too late for that." The Fifth Brother gestured and two stormtroopers moved to flank me. "You killed the Tenth Brother on Nar Shaddaa. The Grand Inquisitor is most interested in how a mere Padawan managed that particular feat."
The Tenth Brother. The Inquisitor I'd fought in the warehouse sub-levels. I hadn't killed her, had barely escaped with my life, but apparently the Empire believed otherwise. Maybe she'd died in the flooding. Maybe someone else had finished what I'd started.
Either way, I was getting credit for a kill I hadn't earned.
"That wasn't me," I said, which was technically true in the ways that mattered.
"Your Force signature was all over that scene. And now here you are, fleeing to Ryloth where rebel elements are gathering...how convenient." The Fifth Brother took three steps closer, and his presence in the Force pressed against me like a physical weight. "The Empire offers clemency to Jedi who abandon their failed Order. Serve the Inquisitorius. Hunt your former brothers. Live."
The offer hung in the air like poison gas. Around us, the other passengers stayed pressed to the deck, trying to become invisible. The stormtroopers maintained their positions, blasters ready but not actively threatening.
This was a recruitment pitch. The Fifth Brother genuinely believed I might accept.
"No thanks," I said simply.
Something flickered across his expression. Not surprise. More like satisfaction, as if my refusal confirmed an expectation. "Then you will die."
His lightsaber ignited. Not the elegant single blade I'd trained with but a double-sided monstrosity that spun in his hands like a machine built for killing. Both blades burned crimson, painting the passenger compartment in shades of blood.
I drew my own weapon and the blue plasma snap-hissed to life in answer.
The stormtroopers opened fire.
I moved before conscious thought, let Ataru carry me up and over the initial volley. Bolts carved through the space I'd occupied and punched holes in the shuttle's far wall. Decompression alarms shrieked.
The Fifth Brother came at me through the chaos, his spinning blade creating a barrier that deflected friendly fire as easily as enemy attacks. I met him in the narrow aisle between seats, our weapons clashing with that distinctive shriek of plasma on plasma.
He was strong. Stronger than the Tenth Brother had been, stronger than most Knights I'd sparred with in the Temple. Each strike carried enough force to jar my bones, to send shockwaves up my arms that threatened to tear the lightsaber from my grip.
I gave ground because staying stationary meant dying. Flowed backward through the passenger compartment while his attacks carved seats into smoking ruin. Around us, passengers scrambled to escape the combat zone. One Twi'lek woman didn't move fast enough and the Fifth Brother's blade took her head without him even glancing in her direction.
Collateral damage. Acceptable losses in pursuit of his target.
The casual murder ignited something in my chest. Not rage, exactly. Something colder. More focused.
I stopped retreating and attacked.
Form IV at full commitment, the way Master Drallig had taught me. Become the blade. Become motion and momentum and controlled aggression. I launched into a Hawk-bat Swoop that carried me past his guard, slashed at his exposed side, missed by centimeters as he twisted with inhuman speed.
His counterattack nearly took my head off. I ducked and felt the heat of his blade pass above me close enough to singe my hair. Came up inside his guard and drove my fist into his solar plexus, putting Force-enhanced strength behind the blow.
He grunted and staggered back two steps. First real sign of pain I'd managed to inflict.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
COMBAT ANALYSIS UPDATE
Your HP: 1,087/1,200
Enemy HP: Estimated 2,340/2,500
Stamina: 71%
Warning: Prolonged engagement heavily favors enemy
Recommendation: Create opening for escape
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Escape. The system was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I couldn't win this fight through direct confrontation. The Fifth Brother had eight levels on me, decades more training in how to kill, and the backing of an Empire that would send reinforcements if he called for them.
But escaping required space I didn't have. We were trapped in a damaged shuttle connected to his ship via boarding tunnel. Even if I could disengage from the duel, where would I go?
The answer came as the shuttle shuddered violently. Whatever damage the boarding had done to our hull, it was cascading. Systems were failing. The artificial gravity fluctuated, creating momentary pockets of weightlessness that sent loose objects floating.
And the hyperdrive was still engaged, trying to maintain a tunnel through space-time while the ship's structural integrity collapsed.
I felt the wrongness through the Force before my conscious mind caught up. Felt reality straining, the fabric of hyperspace tearing around a vessel that shouldn't still be traveling at light-speed with a gaping hole in its hull.
We were going to crash. Not crash-land, exactly. Crash-exit. Drop out of hyperspace prematurely in whatever system happened to be closest when the drive finally gave up.
The Fifth Brother sensed it too. His eyes widened fractionally and he reached toward the breached hatch, probably intending to retreat to his ship before things got catastrophic.
I didn't let him.
Reached into the Force and found a damaged support beam above his head. Pulled at the weakest point with everything I had. The beam tore free and crashed down between us, separating me from the Inquisitor and blocking his path to the boarding tunnel.
He roared something that might have been words or might have been pure fury. His blade carved through the beam but by then I was already moving, sprinting toward the shuttle's aft section where emergency escape pods waited.
The stormtroopers tried to stop me. I deflected their bolts without slowing, sent one flying with a Force push that slammed him into the bulkhead hard enough to crack his armor. The others dove for cover.
The escape pod bay was chaos. Half the pods had already launched, jettisoned automatically when the ship's sensors detected critical damage. Three remained. I threw myself into the nearest one, slapped the emergency release, and felt the pod eject with enough g-force to gray out my vision.
Through the pod's small viewport I watched the shuttle tear itself apart. Saw the Fifth Brother's ship trying to disconnect from the boarding tunnel. Saw the moment when hyperspace couldn't sustain the damaged vessels anymore and reality snapped back with catastrophic force.
The shuttle exploded in a bloom of fire that shouldn't have been possible in vacuum but was, briefly, because hyperspace physics were complicated and violent.
The pod's tiny thrusters fired, orienting me toward the nearest gravity well. Through the viewport I saw a planet. Brown and red, marked with the kind of harsh terrain that meant limited water and hard living.
Ryloth. We'd been close to the destination when intercepted. Close enough that the emergency exit had dropped me into the system rather than deep space.
Small mercies in a galaxy that seemed determined to kill me.
The pod shook as it hit atmosphere. Heat shields engaged but I could feel them failing, smell something burning that probably shouldn't be burning. The system had gone quiet during the fight but now it erupted across my vision with urgent warnings.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
EMERGENCY QUEST TRIGGERED
QUEST: SURVIVE THE CRASH
Objective: Survive atmospheric entry and landing
Warning: Pod damage critical - manual intervention required
Reward: +1 LUK, Survival
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Manual intervention. The pod's control panel was sparking, half the readouts dead or displaying garbage data. I had maybe thirty seconds before we hit the ground at terminal velocity.
I reached into the Force and felt the pod's descent. Felt the air resistance, the angle of entry, the rotational forces trying to tear the small craft apart. Tried to influence them, to create lift where physics said there should only be fall.
It wasn't telekinesis in the traditional sense. More like a cushion, a Force-bubble that surrounded the pod and fought against gravity's grip. Master Drallig had never taught me this. It wasn't in any of the seven forms. This was pure desperation wrapped in whatever scraps of ability I could cobble together.
The ground rushed up to meet me.
I pushed with everything I had.
The pod hit hard enough to shatter the viewport and send me slamming against the crash webbing. Something in my chest cracked with a white-hot spike of pain. My head bounced off the headrest despite the restraints. The world went fuzzy at the edges, sound and sight compressing into a narrow tunnel.
Then everything stopped.
I hung in the wreckage, breathing in shallow gasps that sent knives through my ribs. The system's notifications flickered weakly.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
QUEST COMPLETE: SURVIVE THE CRASH
+1 LUK
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
QUEST COMPLETE: DEFEAT THE INQUISITOR
Status: Objective achieved through tactical retreat
+800 XP
TITLE EARNED: Inquisitor Slayer
Effect: +5% damage vs. dark side users
Rare Skill Unlocked: Force Cushion (Rank 1)
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
WARNING: CRITICAL INJURIES DETECTED
Current HP: 487/1,200
DEBUFFS ACTIVE:
[Broken Ribs] - Stamina regeneration reduced by 40%
[Concussion] - Wisdom reduced by 3, vision impaired
[Internal Bleeding] - HP drain 5/minute until treated
Immediate medical attention required
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
I tried to laugh at the absurdity of the system telling me I was dying as if I couldn't feel it in every screaming nerve. The attempt turned into a cough that brought up blood.
Not good.
I fumbled with the crash webbing release, finally got it open, and half-fell out of the pod into Ryloth's harsh afternoon sun. The heat hit me like a physical force. Dry air, the smell of dust and hardy vegetation adapted to survive in minimal moisture.
Behind me, the pod smoldered in a crater its impact had carved into rocky soil. Around me, nothing but barren landscape broken occasionally by rock formations.
I took three steps away from the wreckage before my legs gave out.
The ground felt surprisingly comfortable against my cheek. Cool compared to the sun-baked air. I lay there and watched the sky spin lazily above me, watched shapes that might have been clouds or might have been hallucinations drift across my field of vision.
I'd survived. Somehow, against impossible odds and an Inquisitor eight levels above me, I'd survived.
The victory felt hollow.