Chapter 1: Rain
When my master and I were walking in the rain he would say, "Do not walk so fast, the rain is everywhere."
– Jedi Master Shunryn Suzuki
The rain fell steadily, as it had for hours. The air was crisp and cold; combined with the rain it created an inescapable chill. Ben Skywalker shivered despite his many layers.
The rain is good, the young Jedi told himself. It's an extra layer of cover. Another source of distraction.
He glanced at his chrono, for the tenth time in as many minutes. He futilely tried to suppress another shiver as he slowed his breathing. He forced himself to ignore the weather and focus completely on the task at hand. He had to calm himself. He focused on softening his breathing, softening his muscles, softening everything until he faded into the Force. If the other Jedi sensed he was up to something, the whole plan would be ruined. He may not get a second chance.
After a final excruciatingly slow breath he glanced at his chrono again. And smiled. It was almost time.
Three blocks from Ben, Dankin stared at the ground, watching the rain form little streams and puddles in the aged ferrocrete. He couldn't bring himself to look up, for fear of seeing the man who had saved his life so many years ago. The man he loved like a father. The man he'd betrayed.
For good measure, Dankin's hands were bound behind his back. But the cuffs were not his primary restraint. Jagged Fel, a muscle-bound military officer, had his hand resting on the back of Dankin's neck. A few inches over and it would have been a friendly gesture, a pat on the shoulder. But as it was, with his fingers pressed against the nerves of Dankin's neck, it was a none too friendly restraining hold. If Dankin tried to escape he was sure the larger man wouldn't have a bit of trouble throwing him to the ground.
"They're coming." The voice came from a few feet to Dankin's right and, still not looking up, he shifted his gaze to the knee-high leather boots of Jedi Knight Jaina Solo. She'd been pacing restlessly, splashing through puddles and kicking up water in all directions, since they'd arrived at the abandoned landing pad twenty minutes ago. She finally stopped for a moment, facing toward Jag, but the heel of her boot continued to tap the ground in agitation.
"Is she with them?" Jag asked. The hand on Dankin's neck shifted ever so slightly as he spoke, the only outward signal that the stoic solider behind him was as agitated as the Jedi Knight.
Though Dankin didn't see it, he surmised Jaina nodded in response because Jag tightened his grip and pulled Dankin closer to him.
Dankin lowered his head still farther. Until now he'd held onto the faint hope that they didn't really have Tahiri, that she was still free to roam the galaxy. That perhaps she would even come to rescue him.
Not that he actually expected Tahiri to come for him. But hopes and expectations did not always align.
As the smugglers led her along, Tahiri Veila knew she had to escape before they got to the Jedi. The smugglers had taken her lightsaber and slapped a set of vibrocuffs tightly around her wrists. They carried heavy blasters, but in a fight she much preferred her odds against a handful of partially trained smugglers who had been grumbling about the rain since they left their ship, to her odds against Jaina and however many other Jedi and soldiers she had with her.
Tahiri was barefoot and wearing short sleeves, but she didn't even notice the pouring rain. The biting cold and penetrating dampness barely registered to her body, hardened by years of torture and anguish. She used the Force as an additional sense that more than made up for any limitations the dark, leaden sky and falling water put on her vision.
As she ran through options in her head, searching for the right time and place to make her move, Tahiri noticed a subtle but familiar Force-signature nearby. She had a friend she hadn't counted on. A friend her captors would never see coming. She may yet be able to pull this off. Save herself and maybe even Dankin too.
It was time. Wiping rain out of his face and taking a final deep breath, Ben moved forward, his lightsaber gripped tightly in his right hand.
He stood before the cell door thinking—not for the first time—how excessive it was. Four-inch thick, blaster-proof titanium and rigged with a dozen different sensors to detect damage, sound, and motion. No one went through the doorway without the security team knowing. That meant Ben would have to move quickly—even with Ben's careful timing, they would have less than two minutes to get out once the threshold was broken.
It was now or never. Ben ignited his lightsaber and with a few quick slashes he had eliminated the hinges and locks on the door. He held his hand up and used the Force to pull the top of the door toward him. It fell forward heavily and landed at his feet with a loud thud. There was no other sound—the alarms were silent—but Ben had no doubt the security team was on its way.
He quickly strode across the door and into the dark room beyond. His boots left sloppy wet footprints on the shiny metal surface.
Scanning the familiar room for its lone resident, Ben smiled. It felt good to be in control of his life for once.
Jacen Solo inhaled sharply, abruptly ending his mediation. Something bad was about to happen—No, it had already happened. His breath came in short, shallow gasps. Opening his eyes, Jacen saw dim light spilling into the small room he now called home. He scowled. He'd made it perfectly clear to Ben that he did not want his company, yet the child refused to cooperate, refused to act like a being who possessed even a shred of rationality.
What part of I killed your mother did the kid not understand?
With a groan, Jacen got to his feet. It was then that he noticed the door lying broken on the floor. His heart stopped. He looked to Ben, standing casually a few steps inside the doorway.
"What have you done?" Jacen demanded.
"Come on," Ben replied. "We have to go."
"I'm not going anywhere," Jacen snarled.
"You have to go!" There was genuine fear in Ben's voice. Apparently he'd expected Jacen to just play along with whatever insane scheme this was. "They'll kill you if they find you now. You know they've been just waiting for an excuse."
That part was true enough. In fact, Jacen had dedicated the last year and a half of his life to avoiding giving "them" such an excuse. It looked like that was just about to be all for naught. Which was, of course, the crux of Ben's plan, Jacen could see clearly. Ben was attempting to force Jacen to go with him or face certain death. So many people had been clamoring for his demise, that when an official execution had been thus far denied, half the galaxy was hoping Jacen would make an escape so it would be open season on former Sith Lords.
"Jaina'll get here first," Ben added, a note of desperation in his voice. This fact, it was clear enough to Jacen, was not true. Or at least Ben did not believe it to be true. But Ben, his intentions ever so easy to read, knew that though Jacen did not fear death, he did have a strong desire to not be struck down by his twin sister.
Jacen hesitated, knowing he had only seconds to make a decision that would almost certainly determine whether he died within the next few minutes. Panicking at Jacen's reluctance to play along with his plan, Ben grabbed one of the few pieces of wooden furniture in Jacen's room and threw it as hard as he could across the room. Jacen observed as it crashed into the far wall and splintered into several pieces. He was faintly aware of the fact that he'd spent many days building the piece with his bare hands, and here Ben had destroyed it in a matter of seconds.
Next, Ben went to the dishes stacked neatly beside the small cistern. He picked up the entire stack and tossed it high into the air. Shards of ceramic burst out from the point of impact with the floor in all directions. Jacen felt a surprising pang of loss at the broken plates. It was only recently that he'd been allowed ceramic plates instead of the flimsy paper kind and he'd become quite fond of the delicate designs that had been painstakingly painted around the rims.
"Anger," Ben explained with a devious grin. He seemed to have overcome his panic, although Jacen didn't much care for the new direction his emotions were taking. "She won't think twice about putting you down once she sees you've succumbed to your anger."
Jacen hardly needed the narration. As he'd noted before, Ben's intentions were painfully easy to read. But Jaina wasn't coming for him, not right at this moment, so Jacen may yet be able to control the situation.
"Stop it," Jacen said as Ben surveyed the room in search of something else to destroy. "Get out of here." Jacen grabbed the boy by his upper arm and hauled him toward the open doorway.
"Happy to," Ben replied. Jacen released Ben's arm with a shove out the door and spun around, trying to decide how he would clean up the mess before anyone saw it. However, Ben had other ideas and grabbed the back of Jacen's tunic, pulling him along as Ben fell backward through the doorway.
As soon as they crossed the threshold of the door, the hallway erupted with blaster fire.
Jacen twisted in the air, throwing himself between Ben and the blaster bolts, all the while cursing himself for letting Ben catch him off guard. Together they hit the ground and rolled.
A barrage of panicked thoughts peppered Jacen through the Force: Wait! That's Ben!—I see Jacen!—He's turned! He's turned!—Don't hit the boy!
Panic was Jacen's friend. When people panicked they got sloppy. This was going to be far easier than Jacen would have ever imagined. Letting go of Ben and turning his roll into a slide, Jacen adjusted his trajectory so he came to a stop at the feet of the security squad. With a flick of his wrist, he yanked the blasters away from each of the security men, six altogether he noted absently, and tossed them casually out of reach. Then Jacen leapt to his feet and plowed through the group, which was now so utterly disconcerted they hardly provided more of a barrier to his escape than a small herd of nerfs would have.
One solider, apparently with quicker wits than the others, pulled a vibroblade from his belt and attempted to sink it into Jacen's side. But Jacen's hand darted out to intercept and bat the blade away without him even breaking stride.
And that was that. Jacen Solo, former Sith Lord and convicted war criminal, was roaming the open streets of Coruscant, his young liberator close on his heels.