chapter 37: Smiling As The Plot Goes By
Kit smiles, Boba just curses at it in Mandalorian...
Corran Horn's boots clicked on the dark floor of the Death Star, and this sound floated into the silence with crisp finality. A narrow shaft ran perpindicular to a lighted hallway, a catwalk led through it and out to the other side, and Corran's hand waved in front of the eye-pieces of two stormtrooper's helmets, his mind telling them that he had every right, every possible reason, to be here.
"I have access to this control surface."
Just a look at his uniform had them agreeing, even wondering why he hadn't assumed it, and Corran moved past them to a circular control console.
He got a surprise; it was as easy as pulling a lever that said 'Main Shield'. He could have done it from his station--apparently Darth Vader had given him access codes a-plenty, because they were in his recent but not his past memory--but it would have been a ring harder to convince a roomful of Imperials that what he was doing was good for them.
The lever clunked into its downward position; a row of red light points flickered off. Corran checked his position with the Force and moved again, forsaking the shadows for the confidant march of an Imperial officer within the safety of his people's greatest triumph.
All instinct, and more pressing than this, all training, told Kit Fisto to jump back to normalcy. But below, there, that was the past, and though he'd never thought it, the past has a way of calling you to dwell there.
To go back? To live--and die--in the world that called to him? He balanced on the edges of a knife blade and did not know it.
To stay here and continue in this fight? Here the company was better, the galaxy slightly more stable, and the combat less imminent.
And the former two greatly outweighed the unfortunate latter.
Kit Fisto pulled himself up, gave a smile to the past, and jumped straight vertical.
He landed on the surface of the floor slicked with melt, and got his hand to his lightsaber in seconds. One clash, an overhead parry, a second strike, thruumm, quick visual of wild-eyed Mara Jade with her hair all around her face, another line open and not wuick enough covered. Kit stepped back and away, switched his upper hand on the cool ridged metal of his lightsaber, and slid the plasma blade into Mara Jade just below the breastbone. For a moment the dark side colored the woman's eyes, then her face went blank. He retracted the lightsaber, a slight sadness touching the Force to him as the exstacy of Form I faded. The dark Jedi fell to her knees and lay, face down on the ice. Kit Fisto gave her a minute bow, touching one heavy hand to his forhead, and then he turned and smoothly ran from the room, back to the corridors.
Beside the dead, the great pit faded without sound back into its truth in the past.