A microcosm existed for each inhale and exhale. All of Haigara and its embattled peoples vanished, mere memories on past breaths. Battle cries faded as the sound of blaster bolts fell silent.
For Obi-Wan Kenobi, there was nothing beyond the moment as fingers that held so tight, loosened, and readied to release the hammer.
There is no death—
Drawing an unsteady breath, he focused his thoughts, connecting with the vast energies of the Force. There was comfort in the currents. The fear at the edge of his consciousness was washed away.
Cries rose up from the surrounding soldiers as blaster fire and the hum of an engine ripped the Jedi from the moment. Tightening his grip on the detonator, he then risked raising his head form the ground. Through a forest of dark armored shins and ankles, he spied the white form of a Clonetrooper speeding toward him.
"The Force is with me," Obi-Wan whispered, feeling a surge of relief at the vision. His heart thundered as he pulled himself from the wreckage of his speeder, only to feel the bite of a wounded ankle. Balancing on his good foot and stole a quick glance as his scuffed boot before drawing his lightsaber. Activating it, he held it high, signaling to the lancer trooper.
Obi-Wan was caught up in the moment that he was surprised by the clatter of treated wood and leather armor. Dropping his arm to his side, he turned slowly toward the orange skinned being in the red plating just beyond his extended reach. He could not see the face for the flared helmet and face mask. The air about this Sarujaa warrior was of determination and anger. The blaster rifle that was gripped in the warrior's three-fingered hands targeting the Jedi painted a more than a clear picture.
"Bossoru," the Sarujaa growled in a deep voice that barely contained its fury.
Moving slowly, Obi-Wan held the thermal detonator out for examination, showing that his touch was all that stood between them and oblivion. The rifle muzzle trembled, then lowered slightly. The aura about the Haigara soldier changed, reflecting his mounting fear.
Unknowing as to whether his words would mean anything, Obi-Wan spoke slowly, "Run, while you still have a chance."
"Bossoru!" the being growled raising his rifle again. "Bossoru!"
Obi-Wan stood motionless staring at the masked warrior. He moved slowly, clipping the silver and black hilt of his lightsaber to his utility belt. "You should have run."
The hum of a speeder bike's engines roared over the distant sounds of battle as a lancer trooper swept the long weapon about, knocking any obstacle out of his way. "General!" the filtered voice called out.
At the voice, Obi-Wan shifted, resting his weight on his good foot. "Be quick," he prayed before lobbing the thermal detonator toward the sonic cannon.
Praying that it was enough to permanently put the cannon out of commision, he reached out, grasping the hot metal frame of the bike as it raced passed. The heat was not enough to make him let go, not when it was the difference between life and death. He could live with any burns that resulted. His arm was nearly wrenched from its socket as he was ripped away from the ensuing explosion.
A flash of pale blue, electric in its intensity filled his vision as it swelled over the battered valley floor engulfing the massive sonic cannon. Stunned by the brilliance that he likened to the glow of the Bearer Star, he was nearly unaware of the roughness of the rescue. The engines strained as the destruction bubble nearly engulfed them.
He drew in a pensive breath, feeling the power of the explosion as a concussion wave slammed into them. Fingers slipped. He was floating, airborne for what seemed like an eternity. The white light took everything away as he was engulfed.
For a moment, ever so brief, Ob-Wan wondered if this was the Force's welcoming embrace.
It was so bright.
And hard.
A grunt followed by a thud as he smashed to the ashy surface of a stone bier. The speeder bike and his rescuer were gone as he caught a quick glance about before tumbling over the edge. The soft, ash covered ground buffered his fall as the bier shielded him from the blast.
•
Shouchi'nuru!
Rage, as bright as a star in the night sky, echoed in their cry: Kill the Generals! It was only equaled by the fervor in which they threw themselves at the Jedi Knight.
The crush of bodies surrounding Obi-Wan was suffocating; threatening to steal away his very breath as more flocked to the scene.
He fought, for he had no choice, the only option that remained would be to give in and die. He stumbled over the battle-marked ground, nearly tripping over the Sarujaa corpses. The ones made at his own hand as they impaled themselves on the tip of his weapon.
Were all the battle focused on him, he wondered as the roar of voices demanding his death drowned his thoughts out. They came at him from all directions, determined to take his life or die at his hand.
If only he could stop them, push them. Flee.
But they would not listen.
Their madness made them deaf.
Panting as the smoke thick air clouded his lungs, making each breath more difficult than the last, he struggled against the onslaught. The muscles in his arms ached, nearly refusing to obey his commands as he drew his weapon about, slicing through the enemy that surrounded him.
Obi-Wan ducked, feeling the whoosh of a metal sword breeze dangerously close.
Exhaustion was taking its toll; he was letting them get too close.
He would make a mistake soon.
Stepping over the uneven ground, careful not to put too much weight on his twisted ankle, he sought out just a little space, a little more leverage, and room to fight. His foot caught on a motionless form at his feet and he stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. If only that had been the end to the shock.
The white armor, partially blown away from the body of a Clonetrooper filled his vision. "No," he gasped, stumbling back.
"Hisai Jee-dai!" a feral voice ripped into his shocked thoughts as the tip of a short blade slit his tunic.
He tried to pull away but was not quick enough as his attacker lunged at him again, slicing into his upper arm before he could respond. The burn of the wound was so intense that it stole his voice as he stumbled into the throng of Sarujaa.
Fighting the pain, he swung his weapon wildly about, desperate to drive his would-be killers back.
Spinning about searching for his attacker, all Obi-Wan could see was a sea of the dead and dying. The soil was littered with bodies and those standing that had yet to fall in battle, but they would, in time.
All of them would.
"Shouchi'nuru!" the wild, high-pitched voice tore over the grunts and growls of battling men once more. Over the crush of bodies, a flash of gold drew Obi-Wan's attention. He turned, throwing up his wounded up arm defensively as a small figure flung herself at him. The glint of the blade glittered in the dying sun.
It was a pop, startling as the blade slid between the twin bones of his forearm. He cried out, instinctively responding to the attack, using his assailant's momentum against them, he twisted and threw his elbow back, firmly connecting with a chin. There was no hesitation, years of battle readiness kicked in as he completed his turn, and in a close quartered move, he brought his weapon about driving it through his attacker's armored chest.
Wood and leather was hardly an obstacle for a Jedi's lightsaber.
Heaving, he shifted to a more offensive stance before retracting the electric blue blade. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of mortally wounded before him.
The being was young, merely a child by his estimates. Her dark eyes met his. There was neither fear, nor pain in them. Only hate.
She was Kuiin Otome, Ranshin's teenaged daughter.
There was no sound, as if the battle had suddenly come to an end. As if all knew, one of their greatest had suffered a mortal blow. Obi-Wan exhaled slowly as he watched her crumble lifelessly to the ground in slow motion.
"No," he whispered, but the word fell on deaf ears.
Warrior or not, she was still a child.
Glancing about, he saw the Sarujaa surrounding him had retreated, forming a circle just beyond the reac0h of his blade. They paused there only briefly before vanishing into the drifts of black smoke that lingered about like phantoms.