Part 14

If you cut off the head, the body will die. If you cut off circulation to a limb, the limb will die. If you kill the nerves of an area, it can't feel what is being done to it. Surgical, precise. A quick snip, and suddenly the brain doesn't even remember what a left leg was, much less how to use it. A quick burn and no one is wise to the arteries being torn asunder. Control the fluids, make sure nothing falls, be positive nothing can make a sound.

A motorized vehicle, like an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer for instance, is much like any other living being. There are vital parts, but the ability for these parts to stay connected to each other is often just as important as the parts themselves. What good is a major industrial plant if there's no way to get carriers to or from it?

What good is a massive back of thrusters if they're no longer connected to a generator? Even if those were connected, what good were they if the navigational controls weren't connected to anything that might control navigation? Quick cuts, an intricate knowledge of each point and the strike point only. One slip, one missed stroke with the blade, the wrong thing is cut and suddenly the brain knows what's going on. It knows what just went wrong. It knows where you are. The worst part of all of it? Having no idea if the "brain" knew where you were yet.

Several concurrent streams of thought ran through Ben Skywalker's head, all being rigorously kept far enough in the back of his head to only hear the occasional errant shout of doubt or concern. This was a mission, he was a soldier, and there was a target. Unfortunately, the target was not only in front of him, but beside him, behind him, above, below, completely encompassing him. The target was the very warship that was supplying him with oxygen and protecting him from the onyx vacuum outside.

Killing something from the inside-out was not an un-heard-of tactic. For centuries, the idea of using spies and munitions behind enemy lines was considered sound and exercised frequently. But when the enemy lines are three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around you horizontally and vertically, and the area outside is even more deadly, the idea of killing the target from the inside-out was a very unappealing one.

But that was just another train of thought he was forcing to a muffled part of his head as the brought the silver hilt of his lightsaber out, pressed it directly against a pipe twenty centimeters in diameter, and thumbed the weapon's activation switch.

An audible crack immediately followed by a static-filled hum, the familiar sound of a Jedi's signature weapon, filled the small service hallway. Ben quickly raised and lowered the blade in a single graceful motion so as to completely cut the pipe and nothing else but the empty bulkhead behind it. Another flick and the blue beam disappeared back into the hilt. A feint smell began to emanate from the two open pipes, a familiar mixture of a fresh meadow's breeze tainted slightly by rotting vegetation.

Concentrated Tibana gas. Though it was perfectly harmless when inhaled so long as your mouth wasn't sealed directly to the valve, the smell was easily-recognizable by many, especially those in the military. Concentrated, pressurized, and given a slight charge, this was the stuff that powered nearly every weapon in the galaxy. Valuable, to say the least.

It was no wonder people were willing to convert countless planets' entire atmospheres into giant farms for the stuff.

So, as he had done eight times before, Ben took the metal panel lying on the floor, positioned it back in place, and called on the Force to press the panel firmly enough to create an air-tight seal. Considering the distance between this point in the Tibana gas circulation system and its designated weapons battery, several banks of turbolasers were going to be dry in about thirty seconds.

At that point, the Anakin Solo would be down a ninth bank of turbolasers, and his former master would be that much more frustrated. Perhaps he wouldn't be frustrated at all, not even surprised. Perhaps Jacen knew exactly what Ben was doing and was waiting for the right moment to spring some trap.

Another shout of dissent, more doubt that the young Jedi had to quiet before it consumed him. But then another thing entered his mind, this one much louder and clearer. This was a frequency his mind had been tuned to for some time now, and the signal was coming back. It was the Force letting him know that people were approaching. Concentrating on the second awareness, Ben felt two presences headed his way at a brisk pace along another corridor perpendicular to the one he had just be cutting into.

They would round the corner in a few seconds and see him. His loose-fitting Alliance jumpsuit would only give the two crew members only a second's pause before recognizing him as someone who was very much not supposed to be there. Forgetting the possibility of them being armed, even spotting him would bring this whole scheme to a quick stop. Then Jaina's, and possibly Zekk's, sacrifice would have been in vain.

Jaina. His loving cousin. More violent thoughts threatening to ruin his chances.

Ben hurried to establish a quiet link to the minds of the two Alliance members. They were a man and a woman, their personalities somehow familiar, both of them professional and intent on their duties. He could tell from the state of their minds that they were prepared to do something grim. It was something that they didn't exactly want to do, but would do nonetheless without hesitation Something violent. They were on the hunt.

Eleven seconds and they would be in his line of sight, and he in their's. Not enough time to make himself invisible in their minds. It had to be dark, fast. Ben looked up at the corridor's light panels, six of them from one end to the other. Seven seconds. He couldn't focus on their wiring and circuitry and destroy them with the force, that kind of work was far too small and precise, especially when it was hidden behind ceiling panels. The lights would have to go. Four seconds. Ben focused more intently on their minds and established a connection to the lights in the corridor. Ben saw the first inch of a black boot come into view.

Using a good portion of the limited control he had on the Force, Ben forced the sound of an explosion and a sudden loss of balance into the soldiers' minds. In the same moment, the Jedi reached out to the lights lining the ceiling and closed his fist. Glass and transparisteel exploded, filling the hall with shrapnel, and then darkness. A sharp pain shot into Ben's right arm as a chunk of transparisteel about half of the size of a key card lodged itself just below his shoulder.

He bit back any natural reaction to the pain and continued to focus on the minds of the Alliance soldiers, who had just fell to the floor of the intersection of the two corridors.

For a split second, Ben's concentration was broken. It wasn't the chunk of material piercing his loose jumpsuit, but instead the uniforms, as well as armor and helmets of the two men who had just come into view. They were Gallactic Alliance Guard, the secret police of Darth Caedus' new government. What was once a public security force established to fight domestic terrorism had become an elite unit of killers who came and went noiselessly, leaving only dead dissidents. Ben Skywalker had once been a high ranking member of the division.

Visions of slicing open the front doors of homes and being met with the horrified looks of huddled families began to fill his consciousness. He physically threw his head back and mentally beat the memories into submission, then reestablished his connection to the GAG soldiers. From what Ben could tell from their minds, they bought his ruse. From what they could tell, some part of the ship somewhere had just exploded and the shock had taken out the lighting in a hallway, possibly more. Ben kept his sigh of relief silent as the operatives rose to their feet.

But the soldiers didn't continue to their destination. Go, Ben thought. Go, Ben tried to make them think. You have somewhere to be, he wordlessly said to them. One of the soldiers began to turn and continue on his way, but the other grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around. This was different. Ben could feel something different in their minds. The two soldiers certainly weren't Force-sensitive, but some part of their awareness was keen to Ben's intrusion. They didn't turn towards Ben's location, but instead raised their weapons and began a slow sweep of the three directions of hallway around them. Then one of them spoke.

"This is Gamma Four and Gamma Five. Did anyone else feel any sort of violent vibration or hear an explosion?"

Ben closed his eyes and exhaled, concentrating on the inch of space between the inside of the helmet and the soldier's ear.

"Negative, Gamma Four. No sudden movement or distinct noise among the ship within the last ten seconds."

No, Ben thought. If only he had known they were GAG before he had attempted the stunt, he would've known they would be second-guessing anything like this. Ben had slipped past various crew members and successfully hidden from patrols ten or twelve times using similar, though more subtle, tricks up to this point. But this time, it didn't look like his shell game was going to do the trick. He heard the soldier speak into his helmet's comm again.

"Roger. We just heard an explosion and went down. Incident may have been localized. Confirm, Gamma Ace?"

This time, a woman's voice came over the soldier's helmet. It was a woman, just younger than middle-aged from what Ben could tell. It would have been a beautiful voice if it weren't filled with restrained ferocity and... and there was something very familiar about the voice to Ben. And then it hit him, and his heart sank.

It was her.

"This is Gamma Ace. Confirmed, your experience was isolated. Shadow target possibly located. Double-check blasters set to stun and move in immediately. Myself, Six and Seven are on the way."

"Confirmed, Ace. Proceeding."

The GAG soldiers raised their weapons down the darkened hallway and began slow, steady pace in Ben's direction. He knew what came next. Two faint whines came from the men's helmets as their thermal vision activated and instantly filtered out the background heat of the ship's regular functions. For the briefest moment, all that was left in their vision was the distinct heat signature of a young male biped rising to his feet. Then the Jedi reached out with both hands and let out a quick shout, and the two soldiers rocketed from their feet and soared backwards into the solid bulkhead behind them.

Before their bodies hit the floor, Ben turned on the balls of his feet and was off. Calling upon the Force once more, he turned the corner at the intersection at the opposite end of the darkened hall and broke into a full sprint. His feet were light and he took long strides. Ben deftly slipped between two technicians exchanging notes, not bothering to pull any sort of Force trick on their minds. With any luck, they would think he was just another panicked crew member.

On pure instinct, he took a left turn, then a right and continued at full speed. He had a decent idea where he was, and the armory and barracks would be coming up on his right in a few seconds. If he could make it to the barracks, there were countless places where he could hide and then continue his sabotage mission. He turned right and a stairway came into view. Ben took and a quick full breath and leapt the entire set of stairs.

He had just enough time to register a black-clad leg before his left side flooded with pain. His momentum was violently redirected and Ben bounced against the wall to his right, his left leg caught on the stairs' railing, and he fell awkwardly down the last three steps. Finally coming to a stop on the floor below, Ben groaned loudly as he rolled over and looked up to the top of the stairs. Fierce pain was coursing throughout his body, emanating from various places: his head, his left ribs, his right arm, his ankle, and another dull ache was just starting to form in his chest.

Ben's vision was blurry and the room had a fierce unsteadiness, but he forced himself to focus on the figure at the top of the stairs, the one who had delivered the fierce kick to his side as he was still in the air. However, when she spoke, Ben recognized her before she came into focus.

"This is Gamma Ace. I have Shadow target. He is wounded but conscious. Blunt force, no stuns or blasts. Converge on my location immediately."

Ben clumsily reached for the lightsaber at his waist and held it out, but didn't activate it. Allowing himself a rare swear, he slowly scooted a meter back, but didn't stand or take his eyes off "Gamma Ace". Finally he summoned the strength to stand, but his left ankle was definitely threatening to let go. He spoke, but his words were desperate and wavering.

"Tahiri, please, this is wrong! I don't know what he did to you, but he's-"

Ben's pleas were cut off as Tahiri flicked a black metal cylinder into her had from seemingly nowhere and activated a meter-long blade of glowing red.

"Dead or alive, Jedi. Your choice."