"Sir, we've lost squad two."

The Captain could tell the trooper was in a bad state, just from his voice over the comlink.

"The target is confirmed as using a light sabre but it's not usual." The troopers voice was ragged, "It's got a blade at each end."

The Captain looked down at his control console within his command vehicle. The trooper's locator was at the far side of the warehouse. The trooper was the last in his second squad. All he had left to the perimeter guard. There were no reinforcements available.

"Sir, He's coming."

There was the sound of a blaster.

"The blades are yellow …"

A light sabre strike and then a scream. The Captain grimaced as the comlink went dead.

It was a tactical standoff. Any unit he sent into the warehouse was liquidated, but his quarry wouldn't break cover. The Captain reasoned his target probably wouldn't want to face a whole squad at once. This left only one option but he wanted to double check his orders to make sure he had the option available to him.

You are ordered to the Morris Sector to find and eliminate a code 10549 reported in the sector. This threat has to be removed at any cost and you are authorised to requisite any assets available.

"Burn the warehouse." He ordered.


"Bloody Hell Alison, I'm cold."

The man was crouched behind one of the many stacks of cargo crates. He was making a valiant effort not to shiver but he hadn't slept, eaten or drank in the last 48 hrs. It was beginning to take its toll.

His clothes were in tatters. There were a couple of minor blaster burns where shots had gotten past his defences. His only possession was his sabre staff, which was deactivated and held close to his side.

"Is this where it ends, love?" He muttered under his breath.

He reached out using the force but it was silent. There was no hint of guidance. He gripped the sabre tighter. There was always an extra option but deep down he knew not to use it.

"If this is it, then I'm not scared. I'll be with you soon."

He left that thought, giving him a little pleasure, and focused back to the present. He could sense new activity outside. He moved from stack to stack and jumped up to one of the many first floor windows along the side of the building. He glanced out. There were some of the troopers modifying some of they're weapons.

Another Assault? The man wondered, ducking down out of sight.

One of the troopers raised his weapon and fired. Not at him but through a window further down the building. It was some kind of projectile. It smashed through and landed near the stack he'd been resting by.

He didn't hear the explosion.

It was the stench that woke him. It took him a little while to realise it was coming from him. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He couldn't see but he could feel. He was lying, face down, in rubbish. He turned over. There was no light or sound apart from his breathing. How long had he been out? Had those troopers buried him alive?

He could feel the panic begin to well up inside. Willing himself to be calm, he reached out with his hands and found a barrier just above him. He gave a gentle push, it moved. It was a lid. The panic subsided. He was in some kind of garbage dumpster.

He allowed himself a smile at the irony of his situation.

He raised himself up and, while raising the lid slightly, peeked out. It was still evening, the troopers were milling about. The dumpster was underneath the window he'd been looking out from. The warehouse itself was in flames. He realised the only reason that this dumpster hadn't caught fire was because of the wet sodden rubbish he was lying on top of.

He knew the troopers would search the area after things had cooled down but that was hours away. If he could time it right, he would be able to slip away under cover of darkness. He lied down on top of the rubbish to ponder his next move. His clothes were now little more than rags, half of them blown off in the explosion. A quick search in the muck and he located his sabre staff.

He lied in the dark and planned.


The Captain monitored the fire. He was sure that no living being could have survived but he believed in being thorough. He'd order his troops to wait until the fire was out and then he'd order a full search. There was nothing to do but wait until then. He lazily looked over his squad's layout. He suddenly started up in alarm.

"Trooper 3-82" he called into his comlink. "Why aren't you at your post?"

There was no reply. He keyed in the spy cameras. He could see both Trooper 3-82 and his companion 3-83 milling around near the far side of the warehouse.

"Trooper 3-82, Report."

There was no reaction.

"Trooper 3-83, Report."

There was a reaction from the second trooper. He suddenly looked about and then clutched the side of his helmet. The other trooper who appeared to looking the other way didn't notice. The Captain turned to his aide.

"Take 3-100 and 101 and go relieve those troopers. Escort them back here." He ordered.

The aide acknowledged and left. The Captain monitored his progress. The two troopers seem to indicate that there was a problem with the comlink. The two new troopers started their patrol and the aide brought the others into the command vehicle.

"Have you troopers got bad comlinks?" The Captain asked.

"No." Said one trooper and raised his hand.

Both the Captain and his aide went for their weapons but it was too late. They both froze. The Captain found he could breathe and move his eyes but that was about it.

Neither of them could move as the other trooper collapsed on the floor. The remaining trooper took his helmet off. He wasn't a clone.

The man looked between late thirties and early forties. He had a short crew haircut, brown eyes and weathered features. He flashed the Captain a grin.

"Oh you won't remember any of this. As far as you're concerned, the Jedi died in the warehouse."

Oh really, thought the Captain, we'll see about that.

"He managed to get these two troopers before the fire took him." The man said while still smiling.

The Captain thought that the man was mad. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smile of his face. His adversary rifled through the command centre, found some spare cash and a tech uniform. The Captain began to frantically look around for other options. The Jedi then bent over the computer console and made some modifications to the console.

"Oh, I'm so kind to you." The Jedi smiled that infuriating smile again, "I've updated all your admin work. You planned a tactically superb operation with a successful conclusion. Your superiors will be very impressed."

"You won't get away with this Jedi." The Captain managed though clenched teeth.

"Jedi?"

The other man's smile changed. It made him look slightly unhinged.

"I'm no Jedi!"

The man suddenly darted forward. He slapped his open hand against the Captain's forehead, forcing him against the back wall of the command vehicle. The Captain could hear the other man, but he wasn't talking.

"You will remember only what I tell you."

It was beginning to hurt when everything went black.


"Sir?"

The Captain stirred and then suddenly woke. He'd been asleep on duty?

"The fire is out sir. It took a lot longer than expected."

The Captain looked up at the Tech who was leaning over him.

"How long have I been out?"

The tech looked up at the clock and the command screen.

"A couple of hours, sir. You were practically dead on your feet." The tech looked a bit nervous, "I took the liberty of erm… maintaining your posture in the records."

"That's illegal Tech!" The Captain stared at him and then smiled, "but in this case I'll overlook it."

The tech breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you Sir!"

The tech saluted, picked up his small backpack and left the command vehicle. There was something about him that the Captain couldn't put his finger on but he let it go. It had been a long but productive night. It would come to him eventually.

The man in the tech uniform left the command vehicle. As he mused at his close escape, he passed through the security cordon without a problem. The Imperials would pack up and leave soon, believing they'd eliminated another Jedi threat. He wondered if anybody else would come up with the bad transmitter trick.

He, on the other hand, had a new disguise, enough credits for a change of clothes and a ticket off this planet. However most important of all, he still had his sabre staff. He knew it was a very old weapon. How it still managed to work was a mystery to him. In the two years since the creation of the Empire, it had never let him down.

It didn't take him long to reach a main transport route. The force must have been with him as he flagged down a taxi. On the way into the city, he pulled the light staff out of the holdall. He rolled it over and over in his hands and looked again at the name carved into the side of it. Who was this Bastila Shan?