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Chapter 8
Stagger
Miler darted through the garage, looking for a vehicle. Most were too small. He raked his hair back, hand trembling. Leona stuck in his vision like a skipping record. "C'mon!" he growled, smacking the speeder roofs. "There's got to be one!"
"Is it much further?" rasped Obi-Wan
Padme's stomach clenched at his agony. She scratched his neck soothingly. "Hang in there..."
"That one!" Miler shouted.
It was a family airspeeder—beat up but sturdy. R2's stature would make the fit comfortable.
Miler climbed in, leaning under the console. He pried open the panel and tore out some wires. He sparked the copper from two green and red ligatures. The speeder came to life. The computer lit blue.
"How about that," The Man said with a smirk.
Miler shrugged. "Picked it up—"
"On the mean streets?"
"The academy."
"Imagine that," The Man mumbled.
He helped Padme lift Obi-Wan into the seat beside her. The Jedi grunted, leaning against her. She pushed some hair from his face, touching her forehead to his. Even sweaty and bloody, he had a comforting scent. They'd never shared such closeness. She tensed when a voice told her they never would again.
R2 boosted from the ground, easing into the speeder. Eisley and The Man sat in front.
Miler looked at Padme. "All set, ma'am?" She lifted her head, flashing him a frown. "Nothing t'worry about," he said.
"Are you going to snap your fingers and end the apocalypse?"
Miler forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's like the Gen'ral says: fortune isn't random." He took the controls, breathing deeply. The speeder lifted before lurching back. Then spinning around, it shot through the garage.
Things had quieted on the ground. The civilian slaughter was in its last throes. The survivors had taken refuge; save a few stragglers, only the dead remained in the streets.
The air was chaotic. Speeders soared drunkenly to unchosen points. They swiped and collided, falling from the sky. Screams echoed from plummeting fireballs. Miler cut through the madness expertly.
Each dive and jerk heightened Obi-Wan's pain. Jagged breaths spilled from his mouth. His mind wandered as he tried to stay awake. He pictured the dead, here and on other worlds, now and tomorrow and millennia past. He was a cog in the machine, like trillions before him.
"Hold on!" Miler shouted.
The Man's eyes cracked open. All around was the stench of death: burnt flesh coupled with super-heated metal.
He pawed clumsily at his face. It came away slick.
A blurred figure appeared over him wielding a blaster. The Man rolled his head to find rubble and wreckage. He hissed as a boot pressed on his chest.
"Answer the question!" the trooper snarled. The Man grunted, seeing Eisley and Padme in a motionless heap. "Which one of you is Kenobi? Tell me now!"
The Man would've answered, but he saw motion behind the trooper. He grinned, rasping, "I am. Wanna see a trick?"
Obi-Wan grabbed the trooper. Spinning him around, he smashed his face with a blaster. The trooper crumpled at his feet.
The Man lifted his head, catching Obi-Wan's eye. The Jedi, barely lucid himself, tossed the blaster aside. He mumbled "uncivilized" before dropping to his knees.
Miler began to stir. He climbed to his knees, looking at the speeder. It was a swirl of smoke and fire, lodged between two concrete slabs that had formed the post of an archway.
A grim whine drifted to his ears. At first, it sounded like the air raid sirens. But as he peered into the distance, he found a wall of bright orange swallowing the sky. Miler shielded his eyes.
Obi-Wan forced himself up. He looked at Eisley, finding her head badly swollen. Behind them was R2, circuits protruding from every orifice. The Jedi faced the inferno as it blasted out in every direction.
"I could've been a farmer," Obi-Wan deadpanned.
