Kallus watched the pistol spin across the floor. It came to a rest halfway between them. It was followed by the harmless looking tube of the Jedi's lightsaber. He smiled in satisfaction. He would add that to his collection. A second, maybe two, then the tall, lean figure of the young Jedi stepped out.
Kallus studied the man's face thoughtfully, keeping his pistol steady. He didn't trust a Jedi. But Jarrus had his hands up behind his head as demanded. There was anger in the depths of those eyes. A simmering heat that made him pause, just for a moment.
"Kneel," Kallus said. "Slowly."
The Jedi watched him silently, then lowered to his knees, his hands still fixed behind his head.
Kallus stepped forward, his finger just dancing on the edge of the trigger. He bent slowly and picked up the Jedi's pistol. It was making him uneasy the way Jarrus was watching him.
"Sensible choice," Kallus said, tucking the pistol into his belt.
"You are going to end this day in a lot of pain," the Jedi said softly.
Kallus paused, and rose an imperious brow. "Really? And who is going to do that? The kid? The Lasat? You?" he scoffed. "Hardly."
The Jedi leaned forward, dropping his voice barely above a whisper. Kallus had to strain to hear him. "You are going to regret this."
"What? Regret nipping this pointless little rebellion of yours in the bud?" Kallus snarled. "I don't think so."
The Jedi shook his head. "We aren't a rebellion. We are just trying to make some money in this slow economy. You know…the economy that the Imps have a stranglehold on."
"What are you doing here then?" Kallus narrowed his eyes.
The Jedi shrugged. "Oh, you know…waiting long enough for Zeb to deal with the bucket heads so he can sneak up behind you." His glance ticked over Kallus' shoulder.
Kallus hesitated, was this a ruse? , and turned his head in time to see the towering purple Lasat grinning horribly at him. He barely caught the blow being delivered by the Bo-rifle on the edge of his pistol, turning it aside.
Kanan leapt to his feet, pulled his lightsaber toward him. He had to do without his pistol. That was time he couldn't waste. Anger snarled through his veins as he paused, watching Zeb and the Imp Agent engage in brutal hand to hand combat.
He would like nothing more than to end the Imp, but he had his Padawan to save.
"You good, Zeb?"
"Go," Zeb grunted. "Save the kid."
Kanan hesitated again. And turned to go. Ezra was his priority.
"Spectre Five, you there?" Kanan shouted into his earpiece for Sabine as he raced down the corridor toward the door he needed.
"Yeah, Spectre One. What's the go? I can hear shots." Sabine's voice was tense.
"We need extraction in five. It's a bust. There are no refugees. I'm getting Spectre Six. Coordinate with Spectre Two for the pickup. We will probably have company on the way out. And not the good kind."
"You got it, Spectre One. Leave it to me. Spectre Five out."
The door opened and Kanan dove through the open portal, and came up under a hail of fire. He barely had time to breathe. The bucket heads were taking pot shots at him as he headed up the corridor, his lightsaber whirling in defence. He force pushed two of them into the ceiling, letting gravity take it's toll when he shut it off. They landed with pained grunts. Another one fell under a blow as his blade melted the plasteel of the armour, his weapon falling from nerveless fingers.
A sharp, hot pain seared his arm and he took another shot to the pauldron on his shoulder. He lifted the crate two bucket heads were cowering behind and slammed it down on top of them. Their cries of pain did nothing to shake his focus.
Two more crouched behind a side turned table, no doubt yanked from a nearby room for cover. He pushed it, the force flowing through his body as the table scooped up the bucket heads and slammed them into the bulkhead, the metal legs crumpling. He flicked his hand and the table slid sideways. They crashed into a room. Kanan slammed his hand down on the controls and shoved his lightsaber into the mechanism after the door shut. He could hear their shouts of anger and was pleased.
One more. The bucket head was firing fiercely at him, slowly backing up, keeping up a hail of fire that frustrated Kanan's attempts to advance. Kanan crouched behind a crate. He took a breath, pictured the stormtrooper in his mind, and rising up on one knee, threw his lightsaber in a whirling arc toward the hapless soldier. It could him high in the chest, knocking him back and down. Kanan caught the lightsaber on it's return path and stood breathing hard for a moment. The door at the other end of the corridor was his target.
He stalked forward, limping just a little. One of the bastards had him him in the leg and it stung like a bitch.
Using the force, he yanked the door off it's mountings. It crumpled beneath the force of his rage.
"I could feel your anger from here." The smooth tones of the Inquisitor filled the room, his long, rangy figure standing in the centre.
Kanan entered, his lightsaber humming comfortingly in his hand. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Ezra was dangling in the force grip, his movements little more than a tiny gizka struggling in the mouth of a fyrnock. The Inquisitor had his lightsaber in hand.
"Let my padawan go," Kanan said softly.
"Oh. I don't think so."
Kanan glanced again at Ezra. The boy's eyes were full of pain and panic. And he noted for the first time the blood that was pooling at his feet. A steady drip, drip, drip that was weakening Ezra's will to fight.
"I'm here, Ezra," Kanan said. "I won't let anything happen to you."
He had been around Ezra's age when he had watched his Jedi Master die. A kid more innocent than Ezra had been. When Order 66 had come down, it had been brutal and stunning and it had carved a piece out of his soul to feel the agony that had sharded through the Force that day. He never wanted to feel that again.
But watching Ezra dangle there, helpless and dying, he knew he could not let it be this day.
He turned his lightsaber in a slow arc, trying to ease the agony in his wounded shoulder.
"Let my padawan go."
The Inquisitor smiled, the twist of his mouth a humourless rictus. "So easy. You have walked into your end at my hands. My master will be interested in the boy though. He shows such potential for darkness."
Kanan's hands knuckled white on his lightsaber. "Let…my…padawan…go." His calm was slipping.
"And I can sense it in you. You must have been but a child when we saw to the end of the Jedi Order." The Inquistor ignited his lightsaber. "A child who knows little more than the rudiments of your master's training." He paused, and flicked his fingers. Ezra crumpled to the ground, slipping in his own blood and lying twisted and staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
"No!" Kanan snarled and leapt at the Inquistor.