EPISODE VII

A Brush with the Dark

"So, do you know where you're getting assigned yet?" Luke asked over breakfast.

"Not yet," Ciena admitted. "Cadets don't find out where we're going until graduation day. Usually about an hour or so before the ball. Gives us a chance to seek out who we'll be serving under and try to get acquainted with them."

Luke had known this would be coming. Ciena and Thane were in a different class than him; they'd already been deep into their training when he arrived. It only made sense that their graduation group would come before his.

"I'm going to miss you both," he told them sincerely. They were the first friends he'd made at the Academy, after all. Their classes didn't have much room for overlap, but they always ate together at meals and went on runs up and down the Sky Loop or ran flight simulations with and against one another.

"Galaxy is smaller than you think," Crask offered. They'd started eating with Luke and the others after they and Luke had made friends. "Might see each other again." Luke had to nod his agreement at that.

"Didn't take you for an optimist, Crask," Thane observed with amusement.

"Nonhuman enrolled in Imperial Academy," Crask pointed out. "Need to maintain positive outlook, else go mad." The four of them laughed at that, but it was the sort of joke that made Luke a little uncomfortable. It did feel unfair the amount of criticism that Crask got, not just from the other cadets, but even from the officers. It was like everyone wanted them to fail.

"What are we laughing at? What did I miss?" Oiva asked as she took the empty seat next to Luke. A young Chiss woman from Luke's enrollment group, her full name was Obrerjo'iv'akokriv. But it was agreed by all to just call her Oiva. Unlike many of her species who had very sharp, almost angular features; Oiva had a soft, rounded face that one would even call cute. Well, one wouldn't, unless one wanted Oiva to throw something at one's head. But one could. She was a study partner that Luke and Crask had met in their course on "Faults and Findings of the Old Republic''. Where Luke was hoping to make it to the front lines and Crask was training to be a field medic, Oiva planned to stay far away from the action as a Chief Strategic Officer. While Luke might not have loved the idea of staying on the bridge for himself, for Oiva that sounded perfectly safe and sane. Though she bore absolutely no relation to him, everyone placed a great deal of pressure on her due to the incredible success of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Which Luke saw as particularly unfair. That would be like placing expectations on him based on the successes of Grand Moff Tarkin.

"Ah, we were just talking about the Graduation Ball coming up at the end of the month," Thane said with a shrug. Oiva pushed a lock of black hair out from in front of one of her solid red eyes and tucked it behind an ear.

"I've never understood those," she admitted while cutting into some of the fresh fruits she'd selected for her breakfast. "I mean, I understand some kind of ceremony for the graduates, but to have a whole event about it every other month seems sort of wasteful, right? Especially when we're at war."

"So, does that mean you won't be attending ours next month out of protest?" Luke asked with a smirk.

"Now, I never said that," Oiva protested as she popped a green wedge of fruit into her mouth. The juice ran down the corner of her mouth as she chomped away and Luke and Crask laughed.

"If nothing else, like I said, it's a good opportunity for you to make an impression," Ciena reminded them. "You three've got another month before final exams to do something to distinguish yourselves. Get a Grand Admiral or Moff or someone to really notice you."

Luke chugged down his milk with a grin and Thane put a hand to his temple. "Oh, no," he groaned as he leaned his elbow on the table. "I know that look. Luke, you can't be thinking about going again." Luke just kept grinning. "Luke, you can't keep doing this to yourself. It is designed not to be won!" Without a word, Luke went back to eating and the other four just sighed.

"Alright," Oiva muttered, "Fine. We'll be there at free period to watch you waste an hour of your life again."

"I've got a strategy this time," Luke insisted around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"What did you have last dozen times?" Crask asked. "Blind luck?"

"Something I noticed that no one else has. Not the ships, not the cruisers. There's an asteroid field in the simulation, not too far away. Not outside the range where the system would automatically shut down because it registers you leaving the conflict."

"So what?" Ciena asked in exasperation. "They're simulated asteroids! None of it's real! You'd probably be able to fly right through them because they weren't programmed to have mass!"

Luke just gave them all another grin and they groaned, facepalming in unison.

OoOoOoO

"Well, good afternoon, Cadet Starkiller," Sergeant Broog greeted them with what could only be called sarcastic pleasantness when they arrived at the flight simulation room. "I nearly called sickbay when I didn't see you yesterday."

"Apologies, Ma'am," Luke told her with a smile. "I had an exam to study for. Some things have to take priority, of course." Broog just shook her head.

"And the rest of you couldn't do anything to stop him?" she asked.

"We've tried, Ma'am," Thane assured her.

"We always try," Oiva added. Broog shook her head again and opened the simulator cockpit.

"Hop in, Starkiller," she told him. "Gives me an hour to read my holonovel and enjoy my caf."

With all the confidence of a man who had invented the blaster while the rest of the world was still throwing rocks at one another, Luke climbed into the cockpit and pulled the simulation helmet onto his head as the door slammed shut and sealed with a hiss. For a moment there was darkness. Then, the galaxy came to life. The sea of infinite stars stretched out before him and a single blue-and-green world hung beneath him. He was relatively sure, after running this simulation so many times, that it was Dantooine. Oh, and a truly obscene amount of Rebellion starships. At least three dozen starfighters; a combination of A-Wings, B-Wings, X-Wings, Y-Wings, R-22 Spearheads, and R-41 Starchasers. As well as two Muurian transports, an X4 gunship, and MC80 Liberty Type Star Cruiser. One of the Rebellion's strengths, if you could call it that, was that they took whatever ships they could get their hands on. There were some Imperial pilots who said they'd crossed paths with fighters from the clone army.

And all Luke had was a single TIE Fighter.

"Imperial Pilot, this is Red One," came the voice of the simulated Rebel on his comms. "You can't win this one. You are ordered to land on the planet below and submit yourself to surrender."

"Are you kidding?" Luke scoffed as his gloved hands tightened around the controls. "This is where the fun begins." He fired shots at one of the X-Wings, nailing one of its engines before diving down through the cloud of starfighters, rolling and dodging between blaster bolts and ships that screamed past him. The movements of the simulation TIE Fighter were like second nature to him by now, as real and as weighted as if it were the real thing. Each touch of the control, each turn of the stick, bringing him in and out of a deadly dance with a new partner at each turn. A handful of starfighters burst into blossoms of flame that were quickly snuffed out as they burned out whatever oxygen they had, but he was still vastly outnumbered. The sheer speed of an Imperial fighter vastly outstripped nearly all craft that the Rebels had available to them and it was time for Luke to put that speed to the test.

Luke broke out of the cloud of enemies and made for the asteroid field with all speed, zipping between the massive, spaceworn rocks before any of the simulated rebels could get anywhere near him. Not surprisingly, they didn't engage. If they were anything like sentient pilots, they likely figured it was easier to wait for Luke to simply run out of power than risk bringing their fighters into the field with him. Which was why Luke was going to make himself a nuisance. Using the asteroid field as cover, he came out at a completely different angle, near the X-4 gunship. Luke grit his teeth and yanked on the controls to flip himself upside down, blasting along the ship's underside and weaving just in and out of reach of its cannons. His sensors blared as the fighters prepared to swarm him again and he continued to fly along the ship's underside, waiting for them to get closer. At the last moment, when he heard the proton torpedoes locking onto his ship, he broke into a tight spiral, weaving around and around the gunship. Starfighters were caught in the blast from the turrets and their own proton torpedoes grazed past his hull to blow chunks out of the gunship. He imagined the order from the MC80 screaming at the starfighters to disengage and allowed himself a smirk before breaking away from the relative safety of the X4. The starfighters flew after him again and this time a handful of them followed him into the asteroid field, trying to match his weaving, breakneck maneuvers and shattering themselves to pieces on the rock before the rest peeled off to avoid meeting a similar fate. So far, so good.

From outside the craft, the other four could only watch in amazement. "His reflexes… his reaction speeds… that shouldn't be possible!" Ciena gasped.

"The systems can barely keep up," Thane remarked in astonishment.

Sergeant Broog continued to sip at her caf and waited for Starkiller to get himself blown up again.

Back inside the reality of the simulation, Luke had decided he had made the virtual rebels wait long enough and prepared to make his next move. As the gunship had taken heavy damage, they no doubt expected him to attack it again to finish the job. They seemed to be expecting Luke to do just that, as the majority of their starfighters were arranged around it in a defensive position. And even with his plan, a direct assault on the MC80 was suicide. Which left…

In a blur of activity, Luke burst out of the asteroid field to fire on the starfighters not protecting the X4 to get their attention, then flew directly toward one of the Muurian transports, specifically the one that wasn't alongside the MC80. He pressed down hard on the firing triggers of his TIE and pushed the throttle forward until he could feel his teeth vibrating. Muurians were fast. They knew they were fast. He was counting on it. Because he knew he was faster. He dodged and dipped through their fire at speeds that made him need to hold down his breakfast, but he just managed to evade their laser cannons and even managed to blast their proton torpedoes before they could impact him.

"Come on," Luke growled through his teeth, "Come on!" The whole universe seemed to bend to his will as he moved in just the right way to get the rebels to accidentally fire upon one another, decimating their own forces. Of course, he helped them along with some blaster fighter of his own here and there. The second Muurian broke off from protecting the X4. His sensors screamed in panic and Luke's lips turned up into a grin like a Krayt Dragon. He remembered his studies, counted off the proton torpedoes the Muurian transports had available to them, feeling them whizz past his TIE Fighter. As sweat beaded down his forehead and matted his hair, he knew their reserves were spent and made a sharp turn. Now he had them.

"How?" was all Oiva asked. "How?" Any other pilot should have died a hundred times over by this point. Luke had died dozens of times in dozens of simulations already!

Sergeant Broog looked up idly from her cave, saw the monitor, and sprayed caf all over her datapad. She coughed, sputtered, and swore as she got up from her seat, wiping caf off herself and watching with the others in amazement. A small crowd had begun to gather from passersby in the hallway that couldn't help but stop and stare at Luke's progress.

Two cadets came charging into the library, sprinting past officers and to the tables where students were studying. "Starkiller's running 'The Hero's Last Stand' again!" one of them cried.

"Then it must be a day that ends in 'y'," Lancer replied, unimpressed and not looking up from his study materials. Honestly, what did the idiot think was going to happen? If he got the special high score, he'd graduate out of the academy as a commander? Ludicrous. Time wasted that could be better spent applying himself to tangible studies.

"That's the thing," the other cadet said. "He's winning."

Lancer's pen snapped in half in his hand and one of his eyelids twitched.

Turbolaser batteries easily as wide as Luke's entire ship missed him by fractions of a centimeter as he continued to evade fire from the MC80. He responded with his own fire, which bounced harmlessly off of the cruiser's deflector shields. Which was fine. His cannons weren't the real weapon. No, his real weapons were the Muurians tailing right behind him, trying to blast him out of the stars without striking their precious capital ship. Luke shoved the controls down into a nosedive toward the MC80, plummeting straight for the ship's surface. A slow-moving craft with limited maneuverability, the cruiser would never be able to move before Luke impacted with it. But this wasn't a suicide mission.

Not for Luke, anyway.

At the last possible moment, Luke yanked back sharply. He felt the buckle of the very edges of his TIE's wings scraping the hull of the ship, but he managed to escape in one piece. The other ships were not so lucky. Both of the Muurian gunships smashed against the hull like proton torpedoes as well as several of the remaining starfighters. He knew that the shaking around him inside the simulation chamber was only meant to mimic the vibrations he'd feel from those ships exploding so close to him if this were reality but it felt like the whole galaxy was shaking apart, as if what was happening wasn't supposed to be possible.

Luke Skywalker was quickly learning that the difference between impossible and possible was a simple matter of will.

The heavily-damaged MC80 abandoned the rest of its fleet to make the jump to lightspeed, revealing the rebels as the cowards all true Imperials knew they were. Most of the remaining starfighters did so as well, but Luke managed to pick off some of the stragglers before they could. When the fighting stopped, only Luke and the X4 remained.

"Rebel craft," Luke broadcast on his comms, "This is Luke Starkiller of the Imperial Navy. By order of the Galactic Empire, I command you to land planetside and prepare to surrender." The stars went out and the whole galaxy went dark.

Then, in enormous, interconnected yellow block letters, "YOU WON!" filled Luke's entire field of vision as a triumphant snippet of the Imperial anthem rang out in his ears. Luke pulled the helmet off of his sweat-soaked face and the simulation door opened itself for him. To Luke's astonishment, there was an enormous crowd waiting for him when he stepped out into the light of the real world again. They let out a roaring cheer of victory as if Luke's triumph had been real. The first people to rush toward him were his friends. Ciena and Thane patted him on the back before Crask threw their arms around him in a hug, lifting Luke bodily off the ground. Oiva, the shortest of the three of them, leaped up to loop her arms around Luke's neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he beamed from ear to ear. Before he could celebrate the moment too much with his friends, however, a throng of cadets pushed through, as if they wanted to rip him out of their arms. They hoisted Luke up onto their shoulders and he couldn't help but crow out a cry of victory, throwing his head back and pumping his fists into the air. Sergeant Broog even looked proud of him. This was the greatest day of Luke's life.

Just outside Luke's field of vision, Lancer Creel seethed with hatred and plotted vengeance.

OoOoOoO

It had been difficult to return to class for the rest of the day and maintain his focus, especially with people whispering about the impossibility of what he had done, how he should have collapsed from exhaustion from the duration of the simulation alone, but somehow Luke had managed. In fact, the rest of the week seemed to go by as normal and Luke assumed that this was merely something that would be brought up at the end of his time with the Academy as a special mark of commendation or something. Then, benduday morning came up. It was a normal breakfast in the mess hall. At first, Luke didn't even notice as everything gradually grew quieter and quieter. Not until the conversation at his own table stopped dead.

"What is it?" Luke asked as he picked up a napkin. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Cadet Starkiller?" asked a voice that sent a chill straight down Luke's spine. He moved to stand up so hastily that he banged his knees on the underside of the table, wincing as he pushed away from his seat at the table and spun in a tight circle, bringing his feet together and saluting sharply.

"Sir, Grand Moff Tarkin, Sir!" he answered. The old man gave him a smile that was nearly pleasant.

"A pleasure to see the young man with so much promise," Moff Tarkin said. Luke felt his heart stop beating for a moment. The Grand Moff knew about him? Wanted to see him? "I came to Coruscant to attend a Mofference," he explained, which did take the wind out of Luke's sails a bit, "And thought I should visit the Imperial Academy. I must say, your record would be exemplary even without your achievement in the flight simulator." Luke beamed. "I did not even know it was possible," Tarkin admitted with a tone of amusement in his voice. "We will have to see if you can replicate such success in live combat, won't we?"

"Sir, yes we shall, Sir!" Luke agreed. Tarkin actually chuckled at that!

"Several of my fellow high-ranking officers have been talking about you, Cadet," he told Luke encouragingly. "We will watch your career with great interest." He gave Luke a pat on the shoulder and a nod. "As you were." He turned and walked out of the mess hall and oxygen seemed to return to the hall in a rush of conversation. Luke's legs buckled beneath him and Crask moved quickly from his seat to catch him.

"In, out," they instructed him jokingly. "Remember breathing?" Luke laughed and gave his friend a playful shove.

Lancer Creel swore to himself that Luke Starkiller must be destroyed, one way or another.

OoOoOoO

Classes were done for the night and every cadet had about an hour of free time before curfew was meant to start and send them all back to their rooms. Luke had the music room to himself and tuned a Seven-string hallikset, idly plucking its string. Though Luke had only ever seen holovids of Naboo in passing, he had felt an odd connection to this native instrument. It brought him a strangely peaceful feeling. It was probably just the songs. Luke seemed to have discovered an ear for music in the last month and a half. As he played his drifting tune, Luke wondered just what he was going to do with all the extra time he wouldn't be spending in the simulator. It would free up more time to spend with his friends, for one thing.

Like an ill omen born upon the wind, the door hissed and slid open and Lancer Creel entered the room. Luke scowled but did his best to ignore him. It's not like it would be impossible for them to be in the same room at the same time. Lancer had just as much right to the music room as he did.

Lancer promptly picked up a chair from the opposite end of the room and dragged it noisily across the floor, spinning the chair so the back was facing Luke, sitting down in front of him, and laying his forearms over the back of the chair.

"Hello, Starkiller."

Luke let out a heavy sigh and set the hallikset across his lap. "Hello, Creel," he replied. "What exactly is it that you want?"

"A fight," Lancer told him bluntly. Luke gave him a dubious look. "Not right now, obviously. But tonight. Midnight, to be more specific. In the sparring room."

Luke carefully put the hallikset on an empty seat and sat back in his chair. "Now why would I do that?" he asked.

"Come now, Starkiller," Lancer said with a tone of faux amicability. "I don't like you, you don't like me. If fate should have it that we wind up serving on the same Star Destroyer, it wouldn't do to still be at each other's throats, would it? For the Empire, remember?" Lancer reminded him with a not-so-gentle punch on the arm. "Why not simply beat it out of one another and be done with it, and finish the rest of our time at the academy like civilized beings?"

Luke looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment before he gave Lancer a shrug. "Still not much motivation for me to be out of my dorm after curfew and assaulting a fellow cadet outside of a sanctioned sparring match. If we get caught, I could get put in a holding cell. Or worse."

Lancer shrugged right back. "Well, then. If you won't do it for the good of the Empire… what about the good of your friends?" Luke sat forward immediately as his expression became deadly serious.

"What do they have to do with us?" Luke demanded. "What are you going to do?" Lancer gave a devilishly demur smirk.

"Well, you know the Trandoshan only has so much goodwill. Not their fault, of course. People expect the worst of their kind. It would be a shame if, after all that hard work, we were all proven right about dear Crask, wouldn't it?" Lancer suggested. Luke's hands tightened into fists. "If, for example, evidence were to be submitted that Crask had previously been involved in… slavery? Or trafficking illicit materials."

"You're lying," Luke spat. Crask would never be involved in that sort of thing. Luke would know. The Trandoshans might have a reputation but Crask was different!

"Maybe I am," Lancer conceded. "But it wouldn't be too hard to submit forged data that looks official enough to fool any Officer looking for an excuse. Especially if their locker were searched and it was discovered that they had Sweetblossom in their possession." Luke ground down his teeth. "As for your blue friend, well, that part's even easier. I have many friends, Starkiller," Lancer reminded him, "And when she isn't in your company, the Chiss does prefer her periods of solitude, doesn't she? So easy to learn her schedule. Track her movements. Learn when she's at her most… vulnerable."

Luke leaped out of his seat and grabbed the front of Lancer's bodysuit to drag him up to his feet. "You leave my friends alone, Creel!" he snarled through gritted teeth. Lancer clucked his tongue and shook his head.

"Now, now, now, Starkiller," he chided, "Luke. I have no intention of harming your friends. They're merely bargaining chips in our game of Sabacc. You know my parameters. Accept them and your friends shall remain unmolested." Lancer wore a look of supreme arrogance while Luke looked capable of murder.

"Fine," Luke spat as he released his grip on Lancer. "Tonight."

Lancer nodded and dusted himself off, smoothing out the creases in his bodysuit. "There's a good womp rat," he said mockingly. He got to the door and stopped, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at Luke. "Come alone," he added. He walked out and the door slid shut behind him. Luke's whole body trembled with rage as he squeezed his fists tight. He didn't even notice it but spiderwebbing cracks began to emerge across the durasteel windows behind him.

OoOoOoO

When the lights went out and everyone else went to bed, Luke did his best impression of falling asleep without actually falling asleep. Once he was certain everyone else in his dorm had turned in for the night, he silently slid out from beneath the covers. It was as if he could will his footfalls not to make any noise as he opened the door and moved through the halls, hugging corners and waiting for surveillance droids to pass him by. He left the room a little before midnight, not trusting Lancer to look for the slightest excuse to hurt his friends, no matter what he said. He reached the door to the sparring room and paused for a moment, wondering how he would open the door without it getting recorded. Then the door opened itself and Luke assumed it had to have been done from the other side. He stepped into the low-level purple maintenance lighting and into the heart of darkness.

Lancer Creel was there, waiting and leaning against the far wall with a smirk. He was also, Luke noticed, not alone. In the complete opposite of a surprise, all of Lancer Creel's friends were human. The Atrisian, Ron Dak; aside from a jaw so square it made his head look like a cube, he and Lancer might have been brothers. The pale skin, swept-back hair so blond it was nearly white, and a slightly different shade of purple in his eyes. The same sneer. The Tionese, Ferren Derrek; she had dark skin, and green eyes, and wore her long hair in two thick braids like the headstalks of a Twi'lek. Though she was half a head shorter than Luke, he'd heard that she'd smashed another cadet's eye out of his head with the palm of her hand. The Lothalite, Perun Milak; with a stocky build, he was copper-skinned like nearly all Lothalites, with a head shaved bald and a dark blue chin beard so pointed he could probably stab Luke with it. He cocked one eyebrow at Luke as he cracked his knuckles. And the Pamarthen, Zee Long; slender as a knife, her heart-shaped face had red eyes full of mischievous hate, a cruel smirk on her lips, and her head shaved in such a way that hair so black it was almost purple ran down in a single strip no wider than three of Luke's fingers from her brow down to the back of her neck.

"I thought you said we'd be alone," Luke remarked. Lancer smirked and pushed off the wall before he unzipped and removed the top of half of his bodysuit.

"No," he told Luke, "I told you to come alone." He handed his discarded shirt off to Perun, who folded it neatly into a square and set it on the floor while Lancer put up his fists.

Luke let out an annoyed huff and pulled his own shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. "Whatever," he grunted. "Let's get this over with." He put up his own fists and walked to meet Lancer in the center of the room.

Despite himself, Luke's gaze couldn't help but flit to Lancer's friends watching them. This all felt like a trap. That lapse of focus cost him as Lancer made the first blow, swinging a crushing body hook that slammed into Luke's ribs. Luke buckled from the blow, dropping his guard enough for Lancer to drive a brutal uppercut under his jaw that snapped his head back. Luke staggered back and Lancer pressed the attack with a vicious overhead blow that Luke just managed to block with the raised point of his elbow, taking control with two jabs and a cross before driving a hard kick into Lancer's chest. Lancer planted his feet to keep from giving ground and the two stood there in the box, trading punches to the face and body, only occasionally turning to block the shot with their shoulder, forearm, or elbow. The stalemate came to an end when Luke twisted his hips, pivoting to the side of one of Lancer's blows, and drove the point of his elbow hard into the side of Lancer's head. The Corellian backed away groggily and seemed ready to crumple from that one blow. Luke made ready to charge, looking to finish things when his arms were suddenly pinioned behind him.

Perun and Ron each had one of Luke's arms, twisting and bending them at the wrist to hold him painfully in place while Ferren drove her fists into his back and kidneys again and again. Luke couldn't stop himself from crying out in pain as blood started to drip from his mouth and onto the floor. Zee kicked the back of his knee hard enough to make Luke collapse and the two men pushed down hard to keep him from getting up off his knees.

Lancer smirked as he strode toward Luke, wiping the blood from his nose and his busted lip. "See now, Starkiller?" he told him. "This is where you belong. I'm sorry we had to resort to some… barbaric methods to drive the point home but you really are far too stubborn for your own good." Luke looked up hatefully at Lancer and let loose a string of colorful Huttese swears and slurs that would have made Jabba himself blush. Lancer's eyes widened in mock surprise. "My, my. All it takes is a little push and you reveal yourself for the backwater Outer Rim thug you really are. What a shame." He spat in Luke's face and Luke tried to surge to his feet before Ferren smashed her elbows between his shoulders with all her weight and kept them there to keep him held in place. "I think we've just about proven our point. Let's finish up and leave him here for the custodians, hmm?" Lancer took a few steps back and charged forward to kick him square in the face.

Luke dropped down so that the kick brushed past his head, kicking Ferren instead, the blow hard enough to break her nose and send her sprawling. Luke looked up at Lancer, his whole body trembling with rage. Luke could never remember being so angry in his life. Though Lancer couldn't see it in the lighting, his eyes went bloodshot and his irises turned yellow. With a strength Luke didn't know he had, he pushed himself up to his feet and ripped his arms free. With an animal sound, Luke whirled around on Ron and grabbed his face, biting the bridge of his nose hard enough to draw blood before throwing him into the wall with a sickening "THUD!" He spun to Perun as the other charged at him and spat a mouthful of blood, his own and Ron's, right in the Lothalite's eyes. Perun flinched and Luke ran, driving his shoulder hard into the other's stomach until they both crashed into the wall. He grabbed Perun's bald head and slammed it into the durasteel over and over until he went limp and collapsed to the ground. Zee Long tried to leap on his back but it was as if Luke had known she was coming before the idea even formed in her mind. He whirled around, stepped back, and jabbed his fingers into her throat as soon as her feet touched the ground before dropping her with a hook across the jaw. Ferren came at him with a palm strike, aimed for the side of Luke's head, just below his orbital bone, looking to pop his eye out. Without flinching, Luke grabbed her wrist to stop her and squeezed until something broke. Then he kicked her in the groin so hard that she only let out a sputtering gasp before she collapsed.

Slowly, Luke turned to face Lancer, whose mouth was hanging open and whose eyes were wide with fear. That was good. Luke liked that he was afraid. "That's the thing about being a backwater thug living in a hive of scum and villainy, Creel," Luke taunted him in a voice that was low and ragged. "You have to learn how to fight to win." Lancer reached one hand behind his back, going for the waistband of his suit. Luke crouched, coiled and prepared to strike.

The harsh daytime lights snapped on suddenly and broke the spell of whatever had come over them. "What is the meaning of this?!" a voice demanded. Luke gave a start and blinked rapidly, shaking his head as his eyes returned to normal. The voice belonged to Sergeant Dilap Manoya, the officer in charge of the night watch. A Chalactan native, he had a bronze-like tan and wrinkles of fury around his eyes. His close-cropped black hair was filled with flecks of gray and he had a large, teardrop-shaped red mark between his eyes. He entered the room flanked by two Stormtroopers and, just behind them, Luke could see Oiva and Crask. Both of them looked terrified. Sergeant Manoya looked furious. "I demand an explanation!"

"Sir," Luke answered, "Lancer and his friends lured me into a fight. They–"

"He's lying!" Lancer insisted. "You can't trust him, he's an animal! Look at what he's done to my–"

"Cadet Starkiller spoke first," Sergeant Manoya snapped at him. "You will be silent for now, Cadet Creel." A vein pulsed in Lancer's forehead as he forced himself to close his mouth. "Stand straight when you talk to me, boy," Manoya ordered Luke. "I am your superior officer."

Luke stood at attention and squared his shoulders. "Sir, Lancer challenged me to a fight after curfew, sir. He threatened the well-being and academic careers of my friends if I refused. He promised to forge documents, plant drugs, and cause them harm. When I arrived, he had friends with him. They ganged up on me. I was lucky to win. And," he added, "I believe he has a weapon on him."

Sergeant Manoya furrowed his thick black eyebrows as he turned on Lancer. "Cadet Creel, do you deny any of this?"

"Of course I do–"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" The Sergeant demanded sharply. "I am not some underling at your father's business that you can bully."

Lancer swallowed down his rage and stood at attention. "Sir, everything he's said is a lie. Cadet Starkiller entered the room and assaulted my friends, sir. He's dangerous. He is a threat to his fellow cadets and would be a danger to the Empire."

Sergeant Manoya nodded. "What exactly were you all doing here outside of curfew?" he asked. "How did Cadet Starkiller know you would be here?"

"We were putting in extra reps in sparring, sir," Lancer lied. "We want to push ourselves to be our best. I don't know how he found out we would be here, sir," he said. "Who knows what these Outer Rim types are capable of, sir?"

"I am only from the Mid Rim, Cadet Creel," Sergeant Manoya reminded him. Then he gestured to the Stormtroopers. "Search him," he ordered. The Stormtroopers moved on Lancer before he could protest. They found three holdout blaster pistols on him. One in the waistband of his pants and one in each boot. "I've seen all I need to see," he declared. Luke couldn't help but smirk as Lancer seethed. "Two demerits and a night in a holding cell," Sergeant Manoya decided. That didn't feel like enough… "And one demerit for each of your friends," Sergeant Manoya added. Then he turned his gaze on Luke. "As for you, Cadet Starkiller, you will return to your dormitory." That made Luke breathe a sigh of relief. "Where you will remain for one full week. You are under house arrest."

"What?!" Luke practically squawked in disbelief. Lancer gave a sneering laugh as he was escorted out of the room. "But sir, I–"

"You should have come directly to a superior officer and reported Lancer's actions, Starkiller," Sergeant Manoya told him harshly. "It's only your exemplary record that keeps this from being worse for you, given the condition you've left your fellow cadets in."

"Sir, I…" Luke swallowed thickly. "I'll miss the cadets' Graduation Ball." He obviously wouldn't be a proper attendant as he hadn't graduated yet, but Thane had offered to take him as his guest. If he spent the whole week in house arrest, he wouldn't get a single chance to see Ciena and Thane before they graduated. He might never see them again…

"That is why it is a punishment, cadet," Manoya told him condescendingly. "You are dismissed. Return to your quarters."

Luke bowed his head. "Yes, sir," he muttered softly. He picked up his shirt and stuffed his hands into his pockets, sulking out of the room. Oiva and Crask were still waiting for him and walked back toward the dorms with him.

"We are sorry, Luke," Crask offered. "Oiva woke me up. Said she had feeling you were in danger."

"He was, Crask," Oiva insisted, "You saw how many blasters Lancer had on him. Luke's lucky he wasn't killed!"

"Still…" Crask trailed off.

They walked in silence for a bit before Oiva spoke up again. "I'm sorry you got in trouble, Luke," she told him sincerely. "I didn't know the Commander would do that."

"It's okay," Luke told them unenthusiastically. "You guys did the right thing. Thank you." Crask and Oiva exchanged a look and watched Luke return to his dorm without a word. He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and flopped onto his back. "At least it can't get worse…" he muttered into the dark.

It was going to get much worse.